All Chapters of Whisked Away : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The scent of buttered toast and spilled orange juice filled the air as Amara Blake darted around her tiny kitchen. A pair of sneakers hung from her fingertips, and her six-year-old son, Noah, was busy turning his cereal into a science experiment. He was giggling, spooning one cornflake at a time into the air like he was launching satellites.“Noah,” she said, balancing the shoes and grabbing a paper towel to mop up a splash of milk, “we are already late. Please eat like a human, not a rocket scientist.”“But Mom,” Noah whined, “this is research.”She shot him a look that said not today, and he finally took a bite, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. He had her eyes—and his father’s cheekbones. Not that the man had stuck around long enough to parent those features.After slipping on her work flats, Amara snagged the last of Noah’s lunch into his backpack. Mornings were always like this: rushed, chaotic, and somehow fueled by love and caffeine. She juggled her shifts at Rosie’s Dine

The next day, Amara stood in front of Terra e Fiamma again, this time in a simple but fitted blouse and clean jeans—not her usual catering blacks, and not her “mom at the supermarket” look either. She wasn’t sure who she was dressing for: herself… or Luca.Inside, the restaurant was a hive of activity. The long table was covered with samples—small, pristine dishes that looked too beautiful to eat. Truffle-dusted risotto, handmade pasta coiled like golden thread, and fresh burrata oozing beside heirloom tomatoes. The aroma was divine.Luca spotted her from across the room and waved her over with a half-smile that made her heart skip. He was in chef whites this time, sleeves rolled again, arms dusted in flour and herbs. Effortlessly magnetic.“You came,” he said, stepping toward her. “And with your own fork, I assume?”Amara pulled a silver fork from her bag with a dramatic flourish. “Never leave home without it.”He laughed. “Good. Let’s put it to work.”He guided her to a small table

For the first time in what felt like years, Amara couldn’t sleep.It wasn’t anxiety.It wasn’t Noah kicking her in the ribs in his sleep like usual.It was Luca.She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, recalling the way his hand had brushed hers, the heat of it, the way he’d listened when she spoke about her past—not out of pity, but with an understanding that felt rare. Real.What was this?She wasn’t naïve. Men like Luca didn’t end up with women like her—single mums working two jobs, barely holding things together with duct tape and late-night tears.But the way he looked at her?The way she felt when she was near him?It was dangerous.It was tempting.It was terrifying.The Next MorningAmara stood in Rosie’s Diner, flipping through receipts and trying not to check her phone every five seconds.“You okay?” Rosie asked, side-eyeing her as she wiped down a syrup-covered table. “You’re twitchy.”“I’m not twitchy.”“You’re vibrating like a hummingbird on espresso. Spill.”Amara sighed.

Two weeks passed like a dream.Luca and Amara found a rhythm—shared shifts in the kitchen, quiet conversations after closing, weekend pizza experiments with Noah. Luca didn’t just fit into their world; he wove himself into it like he’d always been there.He walked Noah to school once, carrying his backpack like it weighed nothing. He taught Amara how to make her own pasta by hand. He even fixed the broken sink in her kitchen without being asked.But perfect never lasted forever.One Wednesday afternoon, the peace cracked.It started with a knock on the back door of Terra e Fiamma. Amara was peeling carrots when a tall, slender woman in expensive heels walked into the kitchen as if she owned the place.Her presence was immediate. Icy. Polished.“Luca,” she called out, scanning the space.Luca appeared from the pantry, brow furrowed.“Sofia?” he said, voice hardening.“I just flew in from Milan,” she said, removing her sunglasses. “We need to talk. Privately.”Amara tried not to freeze.

The power returned the next morning, but something else had shifted overnight—something inside Amara.Luca had said he was falling for her.And she hadn’t said it back.Not because she didn’t feel it. But because she did—and that scared her more than any blackout or past heartbreak ever could.By the time she arrived at Terra e Fiamma for the day’s prep, her stomach was tight with nerves. Her apron string felt like it was tied around her chest, not her waist.Luca was already there, sleeves rolled, dicing tomatoes like the cutting board owed him money.“You didn’t answer my text,” he said without looking up.“Sorry,” Amara said, stepping around the prep table. “Noah had a stomach bug.”He paused. “Is he okay?”“Yeah. He’s fine. It passed.”But the tension lingered.Luca set the knife down, finally meeting her gaze. “Are you okay?”Amara hesitated. “I don’t know.”He waited.“I meant what I said last night,” she said, voice quiet. “But I need time. Time to figure out how this fits. Not