The Marriage Recipe Read Free

That won’t change just because you and I are no longer engaged.”
    â€œBut in the future, it might. What if you choose to leave?” He tapped his fingertips again.
    â€œI have a six-month noncompete clause,” she reminded him.
    â€œYes, and six months is a mere drop in the ocean of time. If you go, all the money Alessandro’s has invested in you flies out the window. We run a business here, and as much as I’d like to be generous, Anthony’s right. We can’t let you take our property with you.”
    Now he was talking way over her head. She planted her hands on her hips. “Let me see. Either I marry you, or I turn over my recipes?”
    â€œMarriage to me wouldn’t be that bad,” Marco said with a smile. “At least you’d get something permanent in return.”
    â€œWho says I’d turn over my recipes then?” she demanded. The gall of the man.
    He seemed taken aback by her outburst. “As I’ve always said, husbands and wives share everything. And when you became pregnant and stayed home to raise our children, your replacement would continue your work. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
    Pregnant? Stay home and be barefoot in the kitchen? What had she seen in him? “You are archaic.”
    â€œTradition is part of my heritage.”
    â€œOh, please,” Rachel scoffed. She was sick of the charade. “Enough of this. You’re a third-generation Brooklynite whose trips to Italy are all for show. Give me a break. You’re not getting my recipes, which by the way originated from my grandmother’s cookbook. Not your kitchen.”
    â€œDon’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” Marco said. He stood and gestured. “You’re overwrought. Perhaps I shouldn’t have gone to Italy. I should have wooed you more. Made amends. I’ll call Anthony and have him cover for me tonight. We’ll go out. See a show. You can pick out a new piece of jewelry.”
    â€œNo.” Rachel placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward. “This is over. You and I are through. T-H-R-O-U-G-H. ”
    He stepped around the desk, as if sensing the situation was spiraling out of his control. “Rachel, please calm down. Be sensible. I’m not your enemy.”
    â€œNo, Anthony is.” Rachel waved the letter in front of Marco. “Well, we’re not playing this game. You will not steal my recipes.” She got up and stalked to the door.
    â€œRachel, this will get ugly,” he warned.
    She whirled around. “It already has,” she told him. “You’re an egotistical creep. The worst kind of human. I don’t want to be around you. I quit.”
    His indignation was immediate. “You can’t quit. Who will bake your cakes? And you won’t work anywhere. I’ll see to it.”
    She couldn’t contain herself. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Don’t kick a sleeping snake.”
    â€œYou and your stupid quotations. I always hated those. You’re like a walking Bartlett’s.”
    â€œGood, then hate this. You can’t threaten me. You have no hold over me. None. You won’t get my recipes, so just leave me alone, Marco. I’m out of your life.”
    She stormed out of his office, and didn’t realize he’d followed her to the kitchen until she heard his footsteps behind her.
    â€œYou will not walk out of here until you give me your recipes,” he shouted. “That letter says you must.”
    Faces appeared around stainless-steel pots and pans. The kitchen, normally a crescendo of clattering, quieted as spectators watched the show.
    â€œYou can’t demand anything from me. I just quit,” Rachel said, her voice notching upward.
    â€œI can and I will,” Marco warned. “You’ll deal with my lawyers. Anthony’s lawyers.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Please. Neither you nor your