Valentina's Feast: Valentina's Kitchen

By R. K. Clark and Kellas Donovan

Greg sits alone in a crowded ice cream parlor. Wounded from a devastating breakup, he looks to drown his sorrows in a cold sundae.

 

In walks Valentina looking for a table. Bubbly, friendly and witty, this young woman begins to coax the hurting Greg out of his self-imposed exile.

 

But he doesn't see the signs. The instability, the pressure and the violence -- everything that screams danger. The pleasures of the flesh have a way of crowding out common sense until it is too late.

 

take a seat at Valentina's Feast. the food is still warm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kellas Donovan
• Release date: Oct 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201656393

Book preview

For Claire

Copyright © 2021

Valentina’s Feast is a work of fiction.

Any similarities to people, place and events are

purely coincidental.

Names, characters, events and places are the product of the author’s imagination.

All rights reserved

1

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Greg sat in the plastic chair. He watched the rough scooped surface of the ice cream smooth out in the punishing August sun. Why am I here? he asked himself. Oh, right...Jake shoved me out the door with a ‘take a vacation, boy!’ and told me not to come back until Monday. Greg sighed and jabbed his spoon into the softening scoop of butter pecan praline. He means well, but I don’t need a vacation. He looked around. The ice cream parlor was packed on the hottest day of the season. He managed to get a table to himself by being quick enough to sit in one of the unnoticed and empty chairs.

His phone rang. He pressed the accept button with his thumb while digging his spoon into the ice cream. Hello?

Hey, Greggie. Siobhan’s voice curled into his ear like a threatening viper.

I can’t talk to you.

Aww...Greggie, you used to love it when I talked to you, she said. In his mind, she could see the cutesy pout she would make — the down curl of the corner of her mouth, the bottom lip sticking out. He used to like seeing it at times, because half the fun was trying to sneak in a kiss to break the mood. Look. Just drop the suit and give me the house. We both know it’s mine anyways. Do the right thing.

My lawyer’s offer is still on the table. Sell it, split the proceeds fifty-fifty and we both go on with our lives. Greg tried to keep his voice as even as possible.

Greg — don’t be a fool. That house is mine. Don’t embarrass yourself.

I’m sorry, but I’m going to have—

You’re going to get it rough, then. The line died on the other end.

He pulled out a small spoonful of ice cream and placed the spoon in his mouth. The cool sweetness felt heavenly in the face of the sticky heat of summer. Greg’s mind traveled from the buttery sweetness on his tongue to mulling over the rest of the weekend chores. Groceries, laundry on Friday...maybe some TV?... After that? He sighed.

Excuse me?

Greg blinked and looked up at the voice. The young woman standing next to him was thin and fit looking. He saw a peak of bare, hard and sculpted midriff and the muscles in her arm stood out as she held a small cup of ice cream. Greg forced himself to look up at the face. Blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, with a pair of round sunglasses perched atop her head. She smiled, the corners of her green eyes wrinkling with happiness. Oh, I’m sorry ─ I was just...thinking about stuff.

That’s fine, sir. I was wondering if I could share this table with you, she said, indicating the other chair across from him, and one of the few empty ones in the parlor.

Oh, sure. I’ll just take this ─ Greg stood up to leave.

No, sir. Please stay. I’m not trying to drive you out, and honestly, I could use the company. She sat down, scooting the chair up to the table. I’m Valentina, by the way. Valentina Sauville, pleased to meet you. She held out her hand.

Greg Hewitt, pleased to meet you, he replied, taking her offered hand. What do you do, if I may ask? He took another scoop of ice cream.

I don’t mind, she grinned. I’m a chef, and I am enjoying a rare day off. She took a large spoonful of her own ice cream. A small scoop of chocolate with bits of peanuts and a stripe of marshmallow trailed delicate fingers of humid fog as she put it in her mouth. She pulled the spoon out, closing her eyes in joy. I’m also saying goodbye to a very good friend today, so...

Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t ─

Don’t worry about it. It was an amicable parting, she said, taking another taste of ice cream. What about you? I hope I’m not prying or anything.

Greg shrugged his shoulders. I work in the I.T. department for a major law firm. Much like you, he fought the urge to frown, I’m going through my own separation, and it was less than amicable. Unlike you, my boss, he tossed me out with orders to not return until Monday. He took another bite of ice cream.

I’m sorry. She reached out and put a cool hand on his wrist. I’m sure he meant well.

Greg felt the corners of his mouth creep up into a rare thing for him these past few months: a genuine smile. Yeah, well ─ Jake was never a ‘do something halfway’ sort of person.

I’m guessing you’re more of a ‘bury yourself in work’ sort of person. Valentina withdrew her hand to lean back in her chair. This is good ice cream; I have to admit. She scooped out another heaping bite.

Greg looked down at his, melting into a shining puddle in the direct sunlight. Yeah...my mom and dad would take me here during the summer if I did all my chores. Mow the lawn, clean my room and such.

Valentina chuckled. I’ll bet your room was cleaner than most hospitals.

For their butter pecan praline, you bet. He took another bite. 

I hate to bring up work in a happy place like this, but you said that you work in an I.T. department, so you fix computers?

Greg picked up his cup to get some of the melted ice cream on his spoon. Yeah. Fix computers, manage the intranet and try to keep the company humming along.

Valentina set her cup down. You said you’d much rather work than mope, right?

Greg felt little prickles of heat work up and down his back under her gaze. Something like that, yeah.

My mom said two things to me: nothing cheers up a man faster than a good dinner, and God puts people in your path when you need them. I’m going to make you an offer. She set her spoon inside the cup and pushed it aside. My computer is doing odd things, and I’m afraid I’m going to lose a lot of stuff. Important stuff. If you’re all right with this, I’d like to invite you to my house to fix my computer. In return for your efforts, I’ll make you a nice, home-cooked meal. Sound good?

He put another small bit of ice cream in his mouth. Offer of food aside, it was going to be nice to have something to do. What’s happening to it?

Valentina grinned and put her hands together. It’s not...how do I put it...it’s not seeing the other drives I have in the computer. They’re all hooked up right, none of that has changed.

Greg’s mind happily switched to work mode. Do you hear some clicking when you’re working on the computer?

Sometimes, like something is popping loose.

Okay ─ we need to get some things first. How many hard drives do you have in your computer?

Valentina looked up and ticked off three numbers. One for music, one for pictures and one for my books. Three.

Do you remember how large they are? Greg scraped the last of the ice cream into his spoon.

Valentina’s forehead creased. Two or three...terry? Is that a word? I’m not good with all this tech stuff. My last boyfriend put this together for me.

Two or three terabytes. Wow, that’s a lot of memory for files, but we can work with it. This is something I can fix...but we need to stop by a parts store first. This is also going to be expensive. Might end up being cheaper to buy a new PC.

She set her empty cup down with authority. Cost be damned. I’ve got stuff I want to save. Now, my turn for questions. One, do you have any food allergies?

No.

Any foods you don’t like?

Greg thought about that for a second. Not a fan of peppers, really. His nose wrinkled. Don’t like spicy.

Right. Are you a vegetarian, vegan or a proud carnivore?

He grinned. More of an omnivore.

Good.

A little. May I make one request?

You’re fixing my computer. You can make all the requests you want. She quirked her lips a little, raising one corner up in a vulpine smirk.

Greg’s stomach fluttered at the look of an exposed canine. Umm...oh, wow...I forgot what I was going to say. He laughed to himself.

Valentina’s smirk changed into a goofy grin while she joined in on the laugh. How does garlic and rosemary pork chops, red mashed potatoes and a nice salad sound to you?

What kind of dressing do you have?

Dressing? I make my own. the goofy grin widened a little. Never liked the taste of bottled dressings. Do you mind?

Nope. You’re the chef. Greg dropped his spoon in the cup and set it to the side. And who’s car should we take?

Let’s take mine. I like to go fast. She flashed a guilty grin as she picked up the cups. She walked away, looking for a trashcan.

Greg turned in his chair to watch her. She wore modest, light green shorts that came down to mid-thigh, but clung to the ripples of her thighs. She was well-toned ─ the word sleek popped into his head as she turned and shoved the trash into the can. She wasn’t even really what he sought out in a companion. His tastes in women tended to be more buxom, rounder in the hip and redheads. Valentina was so far away from what he chased after, but she came to him.

She came to you because she wanted an empty seat. There’s nothing more to this than a woman flirting to get what she wants. Do the polite thing, fix her computer and get a nice meal out of it. He stood up as she walked back, fixing a smile on his face. Is there an electronics store near where you live?

She nodded. I think there’s one of those big box stores where you should be able to find whatever you need.

I didn’t mean to put you out or ─

Nonsense! She leaned in, the sun dazzling through her ponytail as she turned her head. To be honest, I like to cook for other people, and I haven’t had the opportunity in a while. We’re helping each other. A bit of her breath tickled the edges of his ear, making him shiver despite another blast of humid outside air from the door. She walked out of the parlor and turned left toward the parking lot. Greg followed behind.

Where’s you ─ Greg stopped in mid-sentence as Valentina fished out a key fob. The first thing that caught his eyes was the small silver statuette of a woman leaning forward, fabric flowing off her limbs in the wind. Is that what I think it is?

Valentine walked around the front of the sherbet red car. Yep. This lovely little lady right here, she trailed a finger along the edge of the windshield, is the Dawn model. It was my last little splurge for a while, so I wanted it to count. Hop in. She opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. Greg opened the passenger’s door and looked inside.

I feel like I should wipe my feet off or something.

Valentina chuckled. Nothing so formal. She started the engine as Greg sat down. She flipped a switch and the cloth-topped roof retracted. She backed out of the parking lot, giving Greg a little wink.

I have a friend of mine who’s into cars. He would have lost his mind by now. Greg hesitated to put his arm on the rest on the door. So... what restaurant do you work at?

Don’t work in a restaurant. I own a couple of high-end places here, and a couple more in other towns. Sometimes, I’ll come in and cook a shift to keep my hands dirty or make sure the quality is still up to snuff, Valentina said.

Greg looked around at the interior of the car. The wood was warm, the leather was soft, and everything looked clean. I didn’t know chefs or restaurant owners made this kind of money.

Do you know how to get a million dollars in the restaurant business? she asked when they stopped at a red light.

How?

Start out with ten million. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. I must admit my horrible sin to you, and if you want to leave...I’ll understand.

Greg turned to face her. We just met.

I know, but I can’t go on to lie to this sweet face. She nudged the car into gentle motion with her foot on the gas.

What is it? Greg tried to keep his face neutral.

I’m one of those...filthy...horrible...trust fund babies. She dramatically bit the knuckles of her left hand.

That’s it?

Yeah. My dad was a portfolio manager for a couple of well-heeled families. He managed his own on the side and made out a little bit better than his clients. He wanted to make sure that Mom and I were taken care of when he died.

Oh. I’m sorry to hear he passed.

Valentina shrugged. He died a while back, and he wanted us to be happy. I wanted to work to do something, and I discovered I like to cook. I also write cookbooks on the side. It’s not like I get to lie around the house all day and complain to Jeeves that my vichyssoise is getting warm.

What is that?

What’s what? Valentina goosed the car ahead onto the interstate.

Vishhy-swah? Isn’t that a fish soup?

No. It’s a traditional French soup made with boiled leeks, potatoes and chicken stock. It can be served either warm or cold. Her tone turned a little sharp as she piloted the car around a slowly moving church van.

Sorry, Greg said, shrinking back a little in his seat. Never knew what it was.

Cooking and food to me are...they’re better than sex, which is to say, I am extremely passionate about them. She stole a look at Greg. If you want me to turn around and take you back ─

No, thank you. I said I was going to help you, and I’m going to do that. Also, he absently fiddled with his hands, if I have one more microwaved meal, I’m going to be sick.

Valentina’s expression softened. This is turning into a mission of mercy, and it is a mission I am happy to accept. Let’s get that belly full. She goosed the car forward with another nudge of her foot.

*   *   *

Valentina looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He wasn’t her usual taste in men. He was scrawny, shy and certainly not the self-confident bordering on brash man she gravitated towards. Yet here he was in her car. It was a stroke of luck that he knew about computers. Her hunger nibbled away at the corners of her consciousness. No, she told herself. You’ll get something later. You need to space things out. She turned her head to look at him. He was busy staring out the window. He’s cute in an adorkable sort of way.

I don’t mean to pry, but are you seeing anyone right now on the rebound? If that’s too personal, let me know and I’ll understand.

Greg looked back at her. Not really. I’m...I just don’t think I’m good boyfriend material right now.

I get it. Valentina nodded as she changed lanes.

Greg nodded. Yeah. Thank you for those kind words.

Valentina turned her attention back to the road. Thinking about the other woman

She looked over at Greg again. He looked so frail and lacking in the seat of the car. Someone like him wouldn’t be deeply missed. He would be a pushover.

Are you hungry? She asked.

Not really. I just had ice cream.

Oh, she said. I just have one of those metabolisms, but I can take care of that when I get home. She slowed down to take the off ramp. And that’s in just a few minutes. I hope you’ll still have an appetite when we get in.

Greg smiled at her. I’m sure I’ll have some room by the time I’m done.

Valentina nodded. Good.

Her hunger agreed with the notion.

2

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Greg turned away from watching the dash to look out the window. They had left the suburbs a while back. Now, there were long stretches of forest-smothered hills with houses stuck on the side in wide clearings. A few office buildings and warehouses had sprung up off the exits like mushrooms after a good rain. They passed another exit, and the rest of the stretch was unbroken forests. On the side of the road, a brown road sign told them the exit for a national forest was a mere two miles away. You live way out.

Yeah, I am way out in the boonies most the time. Mom and Dad liked their privacy. On the days when I have to work, and I’m going to be there for a while, I have a little apartment downtown that I keep a change of clothes and a bed in. Makes everything easy. Valentina took the next exit, winding down the ramp to a sleepy-looking gas station to one side. No other cars were visible. Valentina turned right without hesitation, blowing by the gas station. The scenery around Greg changed again, almost grudgingly, to a more occupied look. Renovated farmhouses turned into dwellings sat on stretches of land bordered by polite but firm stone walls. Some of the land had giant rolls of hay sitting for the horses or cattle to eat; others had older-looking barns, and animals milling about.

Valentina turned another sharp corner, bringing her speed down to a less reckless number. Ahead, a shopping center took up land, squatting in place like someone’s drunk, fat uncle who didn’t realize his welcome had worn out. Among the stores, he recognized the tech storefront he had to habituate because of work. He pointed to it. There.

I know, she said, maneuvering the car through the obstacles of the lot. She found a parking spot far enough to discourage mischief but close enough to make the walking to the tech store less onerous.

Are you sure you want me to spend your money? Greg asked, twisting his torso to work out the last kink.

Valentina reached into her pocket and took out a small rectangle of plastic that Greg recognized as a wallet. She wedged it open with two fingers and drew out a credit card. It had the logo of a man in a Roman-style helmet looking ahead. Under the name of the company, stamped clearly was the word platinum. I appreciate your concern but trust me ─ I can afford it.

Greg’s Adam’s apple bobbed once. Right. Let’s get you fixed up. Valentina smiled and tucked her card in her pocket. The pair walked across the parking lot toward the store. I have to admit something.

Valentina stopped to pull out a bright blue cart. What’s that?

Sometimes, I feel like I should be skipping up to the door like I’m Dorothy in ‘The Wizard of Oz’.

Valentina shoved the cart back into the corral. She held out her hand. Let’s.

Really? Greg held back a giggle. She curled her fingers in a beckoning gesture. Greg reached out and touched her hand. The skin was soft and warm. Her grasp was gentle. Valentina started skipping like a small girl, making Greg hurry along or get dragged on the asphalt. He skipped with her, lifting her arm back and forth. Their laughter echoed off the white brick facade of the store. They stopped at the doors with a giant leap. He took another deep breath and nodded at her, holding out his hand to guide her through the doors.

Will we need a cart? she asked, pointing to the double rows of blue carts lined up next to them.

He picked up a small basket. Unless you want something else, like a new monitor or motherboard, this will be enough for what we need.

Then let us off, my good man. She pointed to the interior of the store. We have goodies to hunt.

The store was a temple to home technology. Televisions of sizes varying from charming little sets to put on your kitchen counter to behemoths made to hang on walls like gaudy trophies competed for attention alongside refrigerators in all colors and finishes. On the right-hand side were unending aisles of cell phones and accessories, with a salesperson at an island desk chatting with someone else. They wore the same corn blue collared shirts and matching bored expressions. Video games flashed colors on some monitors set up along a side wall opposite the televisions. Greg focused his attention on the back, where the computers and their associated parts and pieces sat waiting for his pleasure.

Greg started walking with renewed purpose. Valentina, mesmerized by a new DVD, put it on the display and trotted to catch up. Do you know what’s happening to my computer?

Your drives are starting to wear out. The clicking you’re hearing is the read/write head becoming disengaged. Do you sometimes turn your computer off then back on and your drives are visible again?

Yeah.

Greg nodded. They don’t have much life left then. When was the last time you did that?

This morning. Valentina’s eyebrows narrowed, furrowing her brow. Greg found the look both cute and dismaying. She looked back up at him. Does this mean little Timmy won’t play the piano again, doctor?

Greg blinked. Who’s Timmy?

Valentina’s cheeks darkened under the light tan. I’m sorry, that was a bad joke on my part.

That’s...that’s okay. Anyways, we can fix it by copying the files onto a new hard drive, but I’m going to get you SST drives rather than the old magnetic. Greg turned and started walking quickly toward the computer section in the back of the store. Valentina trotted to keep up with him. They’re a lot more stable, no moving parts, and the only downside is that you can’t defragment them or you’ll wipe the drive clean. On the upside, you shouldn’t need to defragment them at all. He stopped and turned around. Am I rambling?

You’re fine. I’m learning. So, just to be clear, she ticked off the points on her slender fingers, my drives are old, you can replace them with newer, spiffier ones, and all you need to do is copy the old info onto the new drives? Is this something I could have done?

Greg mulled it over for a second. Yes. If you knew what to do. He scratched a spot on his head.

Well, I didn’t, so I’m glad I ran into you when I did. Let’s get everything so I can feed you. She shooed him along the aisles. Greg’s pace slowed once they found the hardware. He stopped at the hanging displays of hard drives. He examined each plastic barricaded box, turning it over in his hands, reading the fine print on the side. He put it back, his face scowling. What is it? Valentina asked.

He pointed to the price. I’m sorry. I know ─

Valentina picked up four of the boxes and dropped them in the basket. There. I took them. If it’s too much, I’ll deal with it. I told you, I’m willing to spend any amount to keep my computer running. If I can afford a Rolls Royce, I can afford all this computer stuff.

Greg looked down at the boxes and nodded. I just ─

You’re a sweet guy, but you’re worrying way too much over this. She reached down and took his free hand in her own. What’s next?

Heat crept up his neck to nestle in his cheeks. I need to get an enclosure to put the drives in to make copies of them. He pointed to them with his nose. There.

Valentina let go of his hand, trailing her fingers on the center of his palm. Will you need more than one?

How fast do you want it done?

I’m in no rush, she purred. I have a dinner to make.

Greg dropped the one container in the basket. This should do it. He looked in the basket. Four hard drives, each two terabytes, and a USB enclosure. Do you remember if your hard drives were only two terabytes?

Valentina shrugged her shoulders and dove into the basket. She took out the hard drives and excused herself. Greg wandered over to where flash drives and keyboards stacked in orderly rows. He picked up a drive that looked like a cartoon bird wearing a cloak. He turned the package over in his hands. It was what his mother called a gewgaw ─ something pretty and flashy but ultimately not needed. He put it back on the shelf and slid over one step to look at the keyboards. These were not gewgaws. He picked up one of the wireless keyboards. I need you. He looked at the shelf where he got it, then looked down at the price. But I am willing to look elsewhere. He put it back on the shelf.

Put it in the basket.

Greg jumped at the growling voice behind him. He turned, heart jackhammering in his chest, to see Valentina looking at him, cradling four different hard drives her in arms and a hard look in her eyes. The keyboard fell from his fingers into the basket. He suppressed a shudder long enough to croak out a sentence. I just needed a new keyboard for my home set-up.

That’s fine. Her demeanor flipped from predatory dominant to sweet young lady in the span of a panicked heartbeat. Trust me, this and the dinner is the least I can do in return for saving my work. She looked over at the flash drives. Think I need one of these? She pointed to one with the word ‘rugged’ emblazoned in yellow and red.

Might not be ─ Greg watched Valentina pull one off a hook and pitch it over her shoulder. He scrambled back a step to make sure it fell into the basket rather than clatter on the carpet. Valentina looked over her shoulder and grinned.

Good reflexes, champ, she said. I think that’s enough for today, and I want to make sure I have enough time to make a good dinner for everything you’ve done. She sauntered past him toward the checkout aisles, digging into her pocket for the credit card. Greg followed behind, doing the math in his head.

This is over ─ he muttered to himself. Valentina opened the door to a refrigerated display case and took out a bottle of water. She pointed to another bottle. No, thank you.

Valentina set the basket down and started fishing everything out to give to the cashier. Greg’s stomach twisted with every muted thump. She bantered with the cashier, saying that Greg was her white knight today