“Cooking?” he asked, as if it wasn’t already obvious.
“Yes, I have a guest over,” I replied. “I’d rather you say what you’ve come to and leave before he wakes up. We had a good time last night, and we’d rather not have our morning ruined by whatever agenda you have going on right now.”
He glanced at the entrance of the kitchen as if expecting my date to walk in right then. I shook my head at him and turned to removing the peel from the overripened plantains.
“Still cooking ethnic food, I see,” he remarked as if he didn’t just hear me ask him not to ruin my morning.
“I don’t reckon I’ll be stopping anytime soon. I hope you aren’t staying for breakfast, because I only have enough ingredients for two.”
Mashing the plantains in a bowl had never felt better. As a man of almost forty, my father shouldn’t still affect me so much, but I hated that he was here in my moment of failure. Where was he when I had been nominated Best Chef for the Northwest? I might not have won, but it had been a prestigious honor just to have been nominated and making it as a semifinalist.
“I’m not here to ruin your morning, Luke,” he replied, folding his hands on top of the island where he remained standing. “I’m here to offer you help.”
My father’s help was legendary in our relationship. It was never without condition. Back when I thought we could repair our relationship, he’d helped me to secure this house too. I would have never been able to buy it on my own.
“I’m listening,” I told him.
“I investigated and found out the extent of the damages to the restaurant,” he said, and I mashed the plantains harder. “I’ll pay off the damages. Rather, I’ll release the rest of your trust fund to pay off the damages.”
I stopped moving my hands to stare at him. “That’s not all, so why don’t you just come out with all of it? What do I have to do for this generosity?”
“Nothing. I’ll give you back your pride, starting with a new job.”
“Come on, Dad, we’ve had this conversation several times. I’m not interested in running the family business. I hate real estate. It bores me. All I’ve ever wanted was to cook.”
“Who said anything about the family business?” he asked. “I’ve friends in interesting places, Luke. One such friend, Garth Anderson, is opening up a restaurant next month. A lot has gone into it, and he’s willing to take you on as the executive chef.”
Grabbing the dish towel, I wiped my hands slowly. The offer was too good to be true. Garth Anderson was well-known in Seattle for his profitable investments. The man had his hands in just about everything there was to make money from. As much as I would like to think the old man had developed a generous streak, a leopard never changed its spots.
“You’re telling me that without even an interview, the job would be mine?”
“Exactly. I thought that would get your attention.”
This was huge. Executive chef was one place higher than the head chef position I should have landed. It would mean being at the same level of Lawrence-the-louse. The restaurant scene was competitive, and I’d sure like to serve him crow and gloat about it.
“What’s in it for you?” I pressed.
“Well, I don’t think my request is unreasonable,” he replied. “Really, it’s for your own good. I’m concerned about this lifestyle of yours.”
Ah, there it was. “I’m not going to suddenly be straight because that’s your wish.”
He waved his hand at me. “Oh, I know that, but you’re bisexual, so my request isn’t unpalatable. I want grandkids. As things stand, you do not want to take over the family business, and I’ve worked too hard for all this to go to some non-blood relative. If you won’t do your duty, the least you can do is to provide heirs that will be able to fulfill your role.”
Leave it up to my father to think he could give the command to breed and I’d find a woman to start popping out my babies. Since he listened to nothing but reason, I tried to use logic on him.
“Has it ever crossed your mind that any kid I have may not want to take over the business as well?”
“That’s a risk I am willing to take,” he answered. “As things stand right now, I’m desperate enough to take any measure to ensure our legacy stays in the family.”
“I’m sorry, Dad, but I won’t breed you heirs simply because you wish it.”
“You will do it!”
Locked in a staring contest with the old man, I was adamant not to be the one to look away first. I had to give him props. The old coot could still pack enough clout, but I wasn’t the nineteen-year-old he had impressed upon to study business because that was what he wanted. A job as an executive chef was a sweet deal. He knew more than anything else in the world that the position was a dream for me. He’d well and truly dangled the carrot this time, but he’d forgotten I wasn’t a goddamn horse.
“Ooooh, Daddy Luke.”
I froze at the singsongy voice that interrupted the frosty silence of the kitchen. Dad turned toward the entrance as did I to stare at the sexy fishnet-clad leg that flashed out in the opening. Had we been alone I would have sat back and watched the show, but all I could see was the way my father’s face turned red.
“I have something for you.”
“Jason, I’ve got…company.”
The last word ended on a whisper as he strutted into the kitchen completely naked except for the fishnet stockings, heels, and a pretty purple thong with bows at the side. He was wearing last night’s wig, his face lightly painted with makeup.
“Oh shit!” he cried, coming to a complete stop in the entrance. “Lucas, why didn’t you say something!”
Like I knew he was going to parade his wares right in front of my disapproving father’s face.
“Uh, well, I didn’t know you would come in the kitchen looking like that.” And by that I meant completely fuckable. If Dad wasn’t here, I would have taken him right there in the alcove of the kitchen entrance.
“I’m so sorry,” Jason said, placing his hands over his nipples.
I thought about telling him he would do better to cover his junk, but that would be calling attention to his erection and the fact that there was a wet spot right at the front of the sheer thong.
“It’s okay,” I said, reassuring him. “This is my father, Lucas Bronte Sr.” And although my father still hadn’t said a word, I gestured to the young man I had completely ravished last night. “Dad, this is…Jason.”
“Umm, nice to meet you,” Jason said with a smile and a little wave, trying to make the most of the situation.
“For God’s sake, go put on some clothes, kid!” Dad snapped at him.
Jason’s makeup was light enough that his flush showed. Anger surged through me having my father chastise him like he was a little kid who had done something wrong. I was just about to speak up when Jason squared those slim shoulders of his.
“Well, you’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” Jason asked. “I’m sorry I don’t meet your approval, but the surprise was actually for your son. I’ll go wrap it up until he can appreciate it when you’re gone.”
He actually flipped his ponytail as he turned, exaggerating the sway of his hips as he sauntered out, his ass cheeks beautifully bare and decorated with my love bites.
“The impertinent little—”
“You might want to think hard before you finish that statement,” I replied, trying to rein in my anger. “You’ve no right insulting my-my—”
“Your what, Lucas?” he snapped at me, finally bringing out the man I knew. “You’ve been shagging every damn thing from here to the next city, and it never lasts. You’re living a pathetic existence without a job and with a boy who’s dressing up as a woman. Why the hell can’t you do the right thing and get married to an actual woman? By that spectacle that just entered, you clearly don’t have a problem with a woman. Marry one. Provide the heirs needed to keep the company in the family, and that’s an ultimatum!”
“Or else
what?” I challenged him. “We’ve had this talk one time too many, and I’ve proven to you again and again that I’ll find my way out.”
“I’d like to see you find yourself out of this one,” he answered. “I’ve had a peek into your bank account, you see, and by my calculations, you’ll be broke once you finish paying off the restaurant. Not one respectable person in this city will hire you after what you did. Your life as a chef is completely ruined. I can make it all go away. And if you don’t, I compound the problem.”
“Are you threatening me?” I asked quietly.
“Let’s see how that opportunist you have in your bed likes it when you’re penniless, Lucas,” he said, heading for the exit. “Will he still be around when you no longer have this house because I feel like I want to cash in on my portion? After all, it’s not benefiting me. Think about it, Lucas. For God’s sake, think. I can give you your life back. You’ll be forty in a few weeks. Do you really want to start over from nothing?”
Speechless, I stared ahead long after he was gone. Stupid. I should have known one day he would use this house as leverage. I’d been so stupid when he’d convinced me to invest in this house and said he would match my amount to pay for it. At the time he’d agreed to me going to culinary school, so I’d trusted him. Both our names were on the deed for the house, and if he wanted to sell, there was very little I could do about it.
I had no doubt that Jason would stay. He wasn’t the opportunist my father made him out to be, but this was hardly what he’d signed up for. He didn’t deserve to be thrust in the landslide of my life, because I couldn’t see my way out of this one anytime soon.
Chapter Seventeen
Jason
“Jason, it’s time to get out of bed.”
I pulled the pillow over my head. “I don’t want to.”
“I know, but you’re going to be late for work if you don’t get up.”
Sighing, I allowed him to remove the pillow and turned over onto my back. He was always up early because most mornings he went for a run. He’d asked me if I wanted to run with him, but one day had been enough for me. Not only had I slowed him down, but my legs had been so sore I’d had to call in sick at work. For that reason alone, I didn’t want to go to work late. My supervisor already gave me the side eye every chance she got.
“Do I get a treat for getting up?” I asked him with a sleepy smile. I probably should have listened to him when he told me to turn the TV off and go to bed last night, but I’d been caught up in watching a rerun of Bad Girls Club, and those episodes had been addicting.
“Sure you do,” he answered. “You get to arrive at work early and not have your boss yell at you. Now come on. Get up. I’ve already started making you breakfast, so I’ll be finished when you’re dressed.”
“Hot chocolate?” I asked hopefully.
He smiled at me, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and my heart lurched in my chest. Ever since we’d had sex the first time—no, ever since his father had dropped by last week, he seemed somber, like he had a lot on his mind. He still hadn’t confided in me about what his father had wanted, and I hadn’t asked for fear he would tell me it was none of my business. Well, maybe not in those precise words. He was nothing if not polite and loving where I was concerned, but every day he grew a little more distant.
“Yes, I’ll have a cup for you,” he answered. “At the rate you go through my chocolate, I’ll have to start buying the processed pack.”
I peeled the sheet down my body. “Whatever is better for you. I’m easy to please.”
In other words, he was clearly worried about being unemployed, but I wasn’t in his life to add to the frustration. I tried to make things easier for him by distracting him as best as I could. Sometimes it worked and other days it didn’t.
“See you downstairs,” he said and walked out of the bedroom.
With a sigh, I climbed out of bed and stretched from the tips of my toes to my fingernails. They only showed me how badly I needed to get a pedicure. I probably should give myself one since I didn’t want to spend unnecessarily on things I could do without. Maybe not completely without, but I could get by without having the best.
As I showered, I marveled once more at the heightened sensitivity of my skin since I’d started sleeping with Lucas. I was now aware of places on my body I didn’t know could turn me on. Lucas just needed to give me the look and I’d be draped over his lap like his favorite afghan. I lived to please that man, and my only wish was that he didn’t shut me out like he seemed to be doing. I kept telling myself it was all in my mind.
Dressed forty-five minutes later, I entered the kitchen to a feast. He made breakfast for me whenever I slept over, which wasn’t often. Becca dropped me off at work in the morning, so he usually ran me home close to midnight. We didn’t have sex every night, but being around him and Miss Puss was the highlight of my days after work.
“Come on, sit. I want us to beat the traffic rush in dropping you off.”
I didn’t respond but watched how he moved around the kitchen like he was cooking for a host of people instead of just me. I could sense the restlessness in him, and it killed me I didn’t know what to do about it. I wasn’t good at solving people’s problems. I was barely any good solving my own problems. If I were, I wouldn’t be earning minimum wage at the worst makeup counter in Seattle, but I was still having difficulty pulling in my own clients.
Becca had gotten me a gig for a bride who couldn’t afford the cost of the makeup artist she truly wanted for her wedding. So, what if I was second-best? I was sure as hell going to make it count. That could be my foot in the door.
“Daddy.”
Luke was at the counter, but at the word he turned to address me. He always responded like it was urgent whenever I called him that.
“Something wrong with the breakfast?” he asked.
“No, I just want you to sit and eat with me.”
“Oh.”
“Please.”
He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and came over to the island to sit with me. What I never counted on was him staring at me so intently. He snuck a piece of bacon off my plate, and I playfully batted at his hand.
“The chef doesn’t get fed?” he asked me.
“The chef should cook enough for two,” I replied, guarding my plate with my hands.
He chuckled. “I already ate.” I scowled at him when he drank some of my orange juice. “That’s what you get for inviting me to sit with you.”
“I’m worried about you,” I said, biting off a piece of bacon. He’d done them crispy and crunchy the way I liked them.
“What?” He tried to laugh it off. “Why’d you worry about me?”
And I decided fuck it, I needed to know. “What did your father talk to you about?”
He shook his head. “We’re not going to talk about that. At least not now.”
I growled at him. “When, then?”
“When the time’s right.”
I sighed. “Daddy Luke, I hate seeing you like this.”
He scowled at me. “Like what? I’m completely fine.”
“No, you’re not. If you continue feeding me all this food, I’m going to get fat, and then you’re not going to want me anymore.”
“You’re not going to get fat, Jason. And I’d still want you.”
I reached across the granite counter to grasp his hand. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Will you tell me what’s wrong now?”
He let go of my hand. “I don’t think I need to spell it out. It’s quite obvious.”
“I want to hear it from you anyway. I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”
“Nice, but you can’t help me with my problems, Jace.”
He got up and paced the length of the kitchen. A part of me wanted to pull back time and stop what was about to come. Why couldn’t I have been content to pretend that nothing had changed and we were as happy as we had been the night we’d first mad
e love?
“Maybe I can’t help in one way, but I can help in another.”
“Sorry, Jason, but sex isn’t going to solve this.”
A part of me was hurt by his words. I felt dismissed, like he thought sex was the only thing I had to offer him.
And what else can you offer him? I could emotionally support him. Yup, swell job you’re doing there, champ.
“I’ve done two interviews,” he remarked, his motions more frantic. “I have another tomorrow, but I don’t even know why I’m going. Nobody’s going to hire me here. Not after every restaurant has been warned about who I am. Oh, they call me back for an interview, but I bet it’s at my expense so they can laugh about it later.”
“I’m sorry.” I stink at emotional support.
“Yeah, well, feeling sorry isn’t going to get me back into another kitchen to cook,” he stated. “Practically all my life this is what I’ve wanted to do, Jace. I chose this over my father’s business, invested my whole heart and soul into this, and because of one lousy blackout moment, I destroyed it.”
I got off the chair, leaving my half-finished breakfast to approach him. He didn’t even wait for me to get to him. He pulled me into his arms, holding me against him tight. He placed his chin on top of my head.
“Oh Daddy, I wish there was something I could do to make this better for you,” I told him. “The restaurant was unfair to you. I can completely understand why you did it.”
“I was a fucking idiot, that’s what,” he answered, his tone bitter. “I should have walked away. I’d be in a better position now instead of wondering how the hell I’m going to be able to keep you.”
I stiffened in his arms and raised my head, dislodging his chin. “It doesn’t take much to keep me. I’m yours.”
“I— Oh Jace, I can’t accept that when my life is a mess right now.”
My heart galloped in my chest, twisting painfully. “What are you saying? Are you trying to end us?”
He's Mine Not Hers Page 13
