Accept My Baby

He took her camera bag and led her out to the kitchen, his humongous five star kitchen. She would not have been surprised if she saw it on Martha Stewart or something.

“Let’s just say that I am yet to find someone who gets me,” he said as she sat down at the counter. “But I am not giving up.”

“How does a man like you not get the perfect woman? You are the full package,” she said and suddenly felt her cheeks flush when she realized what she had just said. She had basically just flat out paid him a compliment that also came out as flirtatious.

“Why thank you,” he said, a smile on his face.

He walked to his wine rack and came back with two bottles of wine.

“So, what’s your fancy? Red or white?”

“I don’t know. You are the chef. How about you pick,” she said.

“I don’t really adhere to the traditional pairings but they are both great bottles. I mean, 1980 was a great year.” He looked at the two bottles separately and then placed the red wine on the counter. “I guess red it is.”

She smiled and watched him pour two glasses of wine.

“So, Mr. Imperioli,” she started as he put on an apron. “What exactly should I know about you? Now that I already know you are a man who loves throwing glamorous parties and live like like a king.”

“I would love to tell you but I think I like the whole ladies first thing. Tell me about you first and then maybe I can tell you about me.”

“And I like the first ask, first answered rule,” she said as he got a pack of ground beef from the fridge.

“I think you kind of tweaked the language on that rule a little bit,” he said smiling.

“What can I say?” she asked shrugging. “I kind of have a way with words.”

He laughed and took another sip of his wine before he put the ground beef in a bowl.

“Alright,” he started. “You already know that my name in Rafael Imperioli. Middle name Vicente.”

“Wow, you are going to start from the very beginning, aren’t you?”

“Isn’t that the best way to get started? Okay, fine. I’ll cut right to the good stuff.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said as she sipped on her wine.

“So, I guess on paper, the world thinks I am so perfect, right?” he asked and she nodded. “Well, it is far from it.”

She forced a laugh and shook her head.

“To be quite honest, I don’t disagree with you.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. It seems the world has this idea of who I am…or at least who I am supposed to be.”

“I blame the poor excuse for journalism the paparazzi pedal. It is and I am trying to be very polite here, pure sh*t,” Amanda pointed out matter of factly.

“That was you being polite?” he asked, laughing. “I would hate to be on your bad side.”

She watched as he got some vegetables from the fridge.

“What? It is true. All they do is use their credentials to invade people’s personal space and post terrible private photos and videos.”

“I guess,” he said in a soft voice. “I have been a victim a few too many times. I mean I am not safe in any country.”

“I think that has a lot to do with the friendship you forged with Paris Hilton back when she was still a little wild fire,” she said and he frowned.

“That was a low moment, wasn’t it?” he said and she smiled. “So, I am apparent heir to the Imperioli business empire, something that I didn’t ask for and definitely didn’t want.”

“Are you crazy? Anyone would kill to have the opportunity you have,” she said and he forced out a laugh.

“The opportunity forced on me, you mean…I mean, I rarely have any chance to make my own decisions, even personal ones.”

“What does that even mean?” she asked as he put a pot of water on one of the stove burners.

“The perfect picture that is my family, has been carefully cultivated by my parents. I mean nothing ever happens without them approving every single aspect of even the simplest of things. Like the color of the vase.” He grabbed a chopping board and began chopping up the vegetables.

“Need some help?” she asked and he smiled at her.

“My restaurant, my service. You just stay there and look pretty. You could be my muse.”

“Muse? You are painting now?”

“Food is as much an art as any other artistic form.”

“This is awesome. I could get used to this,” she said in a soft voice.

“I wouldn’t mind it if you did,” Rafael said looking up from the chopping board. “You always do that when you are a little uncomfortable…maybe when you are blushing,” he said after a long silence.

“Do what?”

“Bite your lower lip.”

She inadvertently bit her lower lip again and then pushed a strand of hair behind her right ear.

“You tend to do that too,” he pointed out and she got off the chair at the counter.

“Okay. I think I will just let you cook since you won’t let me help and we can have this little talk later,” she said as she began walking towards the living room. “I’m just hoping you have a decent movie collection.”