Ryan Renewed: New York Ruthless: Book 5

The car rolls to a stop and I peer out of the window and smile. This is the little Italian restaurant in Brooklyn where we came for pizza the night the boys proposed to me. Back in Ireland, Shane made me an offer that his brothers still don’t know about and they never will. He suggested that I could marry Conor and have a regular life with a husband and babies, and he and the twins would step back if that was what I truly wanted.

It was the day of their father’s funeral when I finally gave him my answer – and that was that I wouldn’t marry one of them unless I could marry all of them. I have never been able to choose between the four of them and I never want to. I was happy to go on with the four of them as we were, because marrying four people is still illegal in the state of New York. However, I underestimated my husbands. I mean the Ryan brothers don’t operate within the limits of the law for anything else, why would they care about doing that when it came to marriage?

So one night shortly after we came home from Ireland, they brought me here. The place was lit entirely by candlelight and it was empty except for us and halfway through our meal, the four of them dropped to their knees and proposed to me. I have never said yes to a question more quickly in my life.

The place isn’t closed to the public tonight though, and there are diners sitting outside in the warm evening sunshine.

“You’re really bringing the big guns tonight?” I arch an eyebrow at him.

He leans forward, his lips dusting over my ear. “You’ve seen nothing yet,” he growls and my stomach flutters with excitement.

I’m about to ask what else he has planned when the car door is opened by our driver.

Shane climbs out first and holds out his hand to me. “You ready Mrs. Ryan?” he winks at me as I reach for him and my heart swells in my chest. I will never get tired of being called that.

“Sure am,” I grin as I step out of the car, pulling the hem of my short dress down once I’m outside on the street.

Shane slides an arm around my waist and we walk into the restaurant, where the owner, Tony, greets us enthusiastically and seats us in our usual booth near the back. He leaves us with our menus and then walks away with a huge smile on his face. He’s practically squirming with delight and I frown as I watch him walk to the kitchen. Tony knows us and he’s always smiley and happy to see us, like with all of his customers, but he is downright giddy this evening.

“Did he seem like super-buzzed to you?” I ask Shane as I turn back to him.

He is looking at his menu. “Hmm. Didn’t notice,” he mumbles without making eye contact.

“What are you up to, Shane Ryan?”

He looks up from his menu and I arch an eyebrow at him.

He doesn’t answer, instead he looks behind me. I turn in my seat and almost fall off it as I see who is walking toward us. No wonder Tony was practically squeaking with excitement.

“Is that Carl Paxton?” I whisper as I stare at the silver haired guy in a chef’s uniform making his way to our table.

“Maybe,” Shane replies.

“Oh. My. God! How did you swing this, Shane?” I gasp as I keep my eyes trained on Carl. He is one of the most famous chefs in the entire world. He’s been on a tour of South Asia recently for his hugely popular cooking show and he only got back to the States yesterday. I know this because I stalk him on Instagram. I spend hours salivating over the images of his dishes, because he’s not just a famous chef, he is world renowned for his desserts. This man can do things with butter and sugar that should be considered illegal. Mikey and I have tried to recreate some of them with varying levels of success.

Tony hovers nervously behind him as Carl finally reaches our table. Some of the other diners also notice him and they swivel their heads and their chairs so they can stare at him too. As well as being known for his incredible culinary skills, he can also be seen cooking shirtless with his toned, tattooed torso on full display to the delight of his millions of followers – both male and female.

Gasps and whispers rumble through the small restaurant as this superstar walks through it with a towel casually slung over his shoulder.

When he finally reaches us, he smiles widely, showing a set of perfect white teeth. Then he holds out his hand to me.

“You must be Jessie?” he says with a wink.

I take his outstretched hand but I don’t speak. I stare at him open-mouthed and he laughs softly.

“And Mr. Ryan?” his eyes drift to Shane and I remember that my super-possessive and jealous husband is sitting opposite me. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Well, my wife loves your show,” he replies and I glance at him, looking for any signs that he is annoyed with me for fangirling over a sexy chef, but his face is unreadable right now.

“You do?” Carl looks back to me.

“Yes. I watch it every week. Me and my husband make your banana waffles all the time.”

Carl glances back to Shane again. “Have you tried my passionfruit crepes yet?” he asks us both, understandably thinking that he is the husband I’m referring to and not one of my other three. Neither Shane or I correct him.

“Not yet, we’re working our way through your Naughty but Nice book first,” I babble. “We want to make sure we try every one so we don’t miss anything.”

“Wow! Now there’s a blast from the past.” He laughs again. “I almost forgot about that book.”

I stare up at him, aware that I have a huge goofy smile on my face but I don’t care. Since he got mega-famous, some of his dishes and his cookbooks got a little too pretentious and fancy for my tastes. I much prefer his earlier stuff that was the kind of food most ordinary people could have a go at making. Now you need three dozen exotic ingredients to make one of his recipes. I still have no doubt that they would taste just as amazing though.

“I love your old stuff,” I blurt out. “I used to watch your Cooking with Carl show all the time.”

He rubs a hand over his jaw as he stares at me, his brown eyes twinkling as he narrows them. “That was at least ten years ago. You really are a fan.”

“Yep. You’re like my hero,” I say and immediately regret those words. I didn’t mean like in any other way than making delicious desserts. Fuck!

He nods his head and puts a hand over his heart. “I’m honored.”

By now, some of the other diners have edged closer to our table, cell phones in hand, as they stand and wait for a chance to grab a selfie. He notices them and then rolls his eyes.

“Duty calls. I’ll just deal with this and then I’ll be back to discuss your options,” he says with a wink before he turns his megawatt smile back on and spins around to face his adoring crowd.

I turn back to Shane, wincing as I wonder how pissed he’s going to be.

He is staring at me but his face is still unreadable. “What the fuck?” he growls.

“I’m sorry. But he’s like…”

“Your hero?” He arches an eyebrow at me.

I close my eyes and suck on my lip. God, I really said that. I’m such an idiot.

“I only meant as like a dessert-hero,” I whisper.

“A dessert-hero?” he rests his chin on his hand as he continues to stare at me. “My mistake. I didn’t realize there was such a thing.”

I bite back a laugh. “You know how much I love dessert,” I whisper.

“Hmm. And I know why you used to love that show,” he says and I realize he’s not mad at all. When I was sixteen, I was kidnapped and held hostage by an assassin named the Wolf. I used to watch Carl’s show on morning cable TV because it was one of the few channels we had. I would pretend he was cooking just for me and answer his questions as though he was actually in the room. Back then he was warm and friendly – at least on TV. Now he sometimes comes across as an arrogant asshole, but he’s still a great chef.

“I didn’t mean to babble like a teenage girl,” I say as a blush creeps over my skin. “I promise I wasn’t flirting.”

“I know that, sweetheart,” he growls as he leans closer, placing his huge hand over mine. “Because if I thought you were, I would have bent you over this table, taken off my belt and your panties and spanked your ass right in front of him.”

“Shane!” I hiss even as wet heat pools in my center.

“Then I’d make you come on my fingers while he watched so that when you moan my name, he would know exactly who you belong to.”

I suck in a breath as heat creeps over my chest. “You’re a devil.”

He laughs softly. “You’re wet thinking about it though, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“But he was flirting with you,” he goes on.

“He wasn’t,” I shake my head. “He’s got like an army of adoring female fans.”

“Like you?” he frowns at me.

“I adore his cooking ability. Nothing more. You know that.”

We’re interrupted by Tony bringing a bottle of red wine to our table before he takes our order. I order a small fillet steak and asparagus so I can save plenty of room for whatever delights Carl is going to prepare, while Shane orders a T-bone with all the fixings.

When Tony has left, I look at Shane. “Thank you so much for this, Shane.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How did you even pull it off?”

“His agent owes me a favor,” he replies with a shrug.

“That must be some favor.”

“Hmm.” He takes a sip of his wine.

“Oh, God. You didn’t threaten to kill him or something, did you?”

“Jessie!” He frowns at me and I giggle.

“Sorry. I’m just messing with you.”

“You know I adore you, right?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

He leans closer, standing slightly until his lips brush my ear. “But make no mistake, if you flutter your eyelashes at Carl Paxton again when he smiles at you, I will spank your ass in the middle of this restaurant and then I will break every bone in his hands.”

I look at him and swallow as he sits down. He’s being completely serious now and it’s still as hot as hell. Not the breaking Carl’s hands part, obviously. I would die if he did that because of me.

“I’ll be good. Promise,” I whisper.

He nods as Carl makes his way back to our table. He stands beside us and claps his hands together. “So, I thought the zucchini and chocolate mousse with the cherry foam? What do you think?”

I swallow and look between him and Shane. I don’t want to offend him, but the sound of cherry foam makes me feel a little nauseous. I mean I just don’t get the point of foam on a plate. It’s like air. And zucchini is a freaking vegetable. It does not belong in a dessert. “Actually, I would prefer your churros with the peanut butter and chocolate dipping sauces,” I say.

He stares at me and for a second I wonder if I’ve deeply offended him, but fancy desserts really aren’t my thing.

He narrows his eyes at me. “You know, I don’t even remember the last time I made them.”

“The zucchini thing is fine if that’s all you have prepared,” I say quickly.

“No. Churros are good. I’ll make churros. And for you, Mr. Ryan?”

Shane shakes his head. “Nothing for me. I’ll try some of Jessie’s.”

“Then I’ll make extra,” he says. “I’ll leave you both to enjoy your wine.”

As soon as Carl has left the table, I give Shane my full attention. “You know I adore you, right?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Yes.”

“But you take one bite of my dessert and I will stab you with my fork.” I grin at him and he chuckles softly.

“In that case, I’m going to have to tell Mikey that you got all swoony over some asshole chef and told him he was your dessert-hero.”

I open my mouth in feigned indignation. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, sweetheart.”