by Cassia Leo
“Is this yours?” Warner calls out to me.
I blink a few times and squint my eyes to get a better look at the object in his hand, and my heart stops when I recognize the light-coral phone case.
He races toward me, the sunlight glinting off his braces as he grins broadly. “I found it in Ethan’s office,” he says loud enough for the entire dining room to hear.
I flash him a tight smile, not bothering to look in Mario or Ethan’s direction as I take the phone from Warner’s hand. “Thanks.”
Chapter 14
ALICE
“Grab the bottle of champagne from the fridge,” my mom says as she stirs the pot of pozole, a Mexican soup made with tender chunks of pork shoulder, hominy, and a spicy broth.
“Damn, Mom. Champagne and Dad’s favorite soup? What’s the occasion?”
Grabbing the bottle of champagne, I reach for the cupboard above the dishwasher to retrieve some glasses.
My mom tastes the broth, then reaches for the salt shaker. “I thought you knew.”
I get a strange uneasiness as my imagination runs away with me, and my head fills with visions of my father asking my mom to help him celebrate his last days as a free man before he murders Ethan.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, placing the champagne and the glasses on the dinner table.
She stirs the soup and tastes the broth again. “Your restaurant did well last week. They’re moving into the final phase of funding.”
I sidle up next to my mom so she can feed me a spoon of the soup. “A little more salt,” I say, heading for the cupboard above the toaster to retrieve the bowls. “Why are we celebrating something so boring?”
“The tortillas are in the warmer behind you,” she says as I hand her the bowls. “Because your dad’s boss offered him a bonus last week if it moves into the final funding phase.”
I place a head of cabbage on a cutting board and slide a large santoku out of the knife block. “Why is he offering him a bonus now?”
My mom shrugs her delicate shoulders. “As an incentive to close the deal, would be my best guess.”
I silently consider the timing of the offer as I thinly slice the cabbage. “And all of this has to do with opening night going well?”
“How do you know it went well?”
My dad’s voice startles me as he walks into the kitchen and goes straight for the cupboard above the dishwasher.
My heart pounds against my chest as I almost slice into my finger. “Ollie told me,” I lie.
My dad loosens his tie with one hand as he uses his other hand to grab a bottle of Modelo Negra beer out of the fridge. I reach into the drawer and toss him the bottle opener. He pours the beer into his glass and rinses the bottle before he throws it into the recycling bin under the sink.
“So, you’re getting a bonus?” I ask casually.
“Why are you talking to her about work?” my dad says, addressing my mom as if I wasn’t the one who asked the question.
She smiles as he plants a kiss on her cheek. “She’s paying rent now. She deserves to be part of money discussions.”
“Thank you,” I say, placing my knife in the sink.
My dad rolls his eyes and holds out his glass of beer to me. “Fine. You want in on this?”
I smile as I take the glass. “Thanks.”
He pours himself another beer and begins helping me set the table. “Your boss submitted the figures for opening day last week and…”
I set a spoon down on the dinner table. “And…what?”
“And this morning, the trustee approved the amendment to their funding contract. They submitted an amendment adding a bonus for me when we reach the final phase of funding.”
My father is practically glowing. He hasn’t looked this alive since before he lost the restaurant.
“What kind of bonus are we talking about?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the number.
He smiles as he takes a bowl of hot soup from my mom and places it on the table. “Six figures.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my skull. “Are you kidding me?”
He looks smug as hell as he takes a seat and begins piling toppings on his soup.
“So, does that mean I don’t have to pay you rent?”
My mom laughs as she sets her bowl down on the table and sits next to me.
My dad looks up from his soup long enough to shoot me a look that says, “Fat chance.”
I shrug as I grab a wedge of lime and squeeze it into my bowl, stirring it into the steaming red broth before I give it a taste. “Whatever. I got paid yesterday, so I was going to text you the rent money today, anyway.”
My dad glances at me a few times as we eat in silence. “If you were planning on spending that money on something important, you can pay the rent next week.”
It’s not as if I can admit to my dad I was planning on using some of my first paycheck to buy some expensive lingerie.
“I’m fine, Dad, but thanks for offering.”
“Of course, mija.”
“Should we open the champagne?” I ask when I’ve drained my glass of beer. “I have something to celebrate, too.”
“Do you?” my dad asks as he reaches for the frosty bottle and begins peeling away the gold foil.
“Yeah, I start training in the kitchen next week.”
My dad eyes me suspiciously as he works on loosening the cork. “So soon?”
“Yeah, you said it yourself. The opening went well, and that’s the deal I made with Ethan.”
“Your boss.”
He doesn’t phrase it as a question. He’s reminding me that Ethan should not be referred to as Ethan. He’s my boss. A subtle but significant difference.
“Yes, the deal I made with my boss was that I would get to train in the kitchen if the opening went well.”
It occurs to me that the deal Ethan and I made in front of Minka’s apartment, when he begged me to come back to work at Forked, was that I could be promoted in ninety days instead of six months. But he never promised I’d get to work in the kitchen if opening night went well. That was something Ethan offered more recently, but my father doesn’t need to know those dirty details.
My dad puts down his spoon and sits up straight so he can look me in the eye. “Why are you blushing when you talk about him?”
“What?” I say, reaching up to touch my cheeks. My skin is indeed on fire. “I’m not blushing. This soup is spicy!”
His mouth is pressed into a hard line. “Don’t lie to me, Alice. Are you—” But before he can finish his question, his phone starts ringing. He slides it out of his slacks and sighs. “Hello?” he answers as he rises from the table and heads toward the kitchen door to take his phone call outside on the back patio.
I hold my breath until he’s gone, then I turn to my mom. The smile on her face catches me off-guard.
“What are you smiling at?”
She shakes her head. “Opening night went well?”
I shrug, unsure where this question is leading. “I guess. Why?”
“Tell me about it. Tell me everything.”
I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Only if you promise to talk some sense into him. I know he thinks there’s something going on between me and Ethan, and there’s not.”
She nods. “Sure. I’ll talk to him.”
By the time I’ve finished telling my mom about opening night—everything except the kiss—my soup is cold, but I don’t care. I hardly feel hungry anymore.
“That was nice of him to stand up for you like that,” my mom says, grabbing my bowl as she takes hers to the kitchen.
I follow behind her. “It was. It… It felt really good to be taken care of without being expected to give something in return.”
She places the bowls in the sink and turns to me. “You mean, unlike the way your dad takes care of you?”
“I didn’t say that. I know you guys can’t afford to support me. And dad takes care of me in his own way.”
; She tilts her head as she studies me. “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”
“Of course he does. He’s my dad.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not talking about your dad.”
My mouth goes dry as my mind clambers for a response to this, another half-truth, but I’m drawing a blank. I’ve never been able to lie to my mom.
She knows. She always knows.
“It was just a kiss,” I insist.
She smiles as she places a gentle hand on my arm. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your dad.”
“I promise I’ll be careful.”
My mom waves off my promise. “Be careful when you step on a wet floor. Don’t be careful with love.”
I smile at this reminder of one of my mom’s favorite sayings.
“But you have to promise me one thing,” she says, fixing me with a serious expression.
“What?”
“Promise me if he hurts you the way Edward did, you’ll twist his huevos into a pretty bow.”
“Jesus Christ, Mom. You should try using some Spanish words other than the curse words.”
She shrugs innocently. “It’s the first words your dad taught me. They stuck.” Grabbing both my arms now, her gaze bores into me. “Promise me.”
I roll my eyes. “Trust me. If Ethan hurts me, I’ll turn his huevos into scrambled eggs.”
She nods with approval. “That’s my girl.”
As she takes me into her arms, I can’t help but think about the Le Cordon Bleu internship I’ve yet to tell Ethan or my parents about. If I don’t come clean soon, I may be the one who breaks hearts this time.
Chapter 15
ETHAN
Misty rips the order ticket off the printer and secures it with the clip in front of Alice. Then, she turns toward the swinging double doors as a server enters the kitchen to pick up an order.
“We need runners!” she shouts at the server. “Tell Ollie to pace the tables. We’re getting killed back here.”
Without hesitation, Alice glances at the two tickets in front of her and shouts out a request for venison, duck breast, and a Tomahawk. All the while, her hands continue stirring butter into the plum sauce she’s preparing for our last order of duck breast.
Warner returns from the walk-in cooler with the meat she requested. “Only one Tomahawk left.”
“86 Tomahawk!” Alice shouts at Misty, who shoves her way through the double doors to find Ollie, who will warn the rest of the servers.
My chest fills with pride as I watch Alice and Mario confer on the timing of preparing the rare venison and the medium-well duck so they’re plated at the same time as the Tomahawk. As they do that, Shanice requests the aged Montassio she needs for an after-dinner cheese course while she prepares two lamb carpaccios for another table. My three sous chefs—well, two sous chefs and one trainee—work together like a well-oiled machine.
Chuffed to bits as I may be, I can’t take all the credit. Actually, I can’t take much credit at all.
When Alice quickly proved her mettle on her first day in the kitchen, Mario’s initial reaction was to be even more afraid of being replaced. But after taking him aside and assuring him that was not going to happen—and after being bailed out more than once by Alice when we got slammed with tasting menu orders last night—Mario has settled into a rhythm with Alice.
I’ve since heard him reluctantly complimenting Alice’s work ethic when he wasn’t aware I was listening. Unfortunately, I’ve also caught him stealing glances at the way her jeans hug her arse in all the right places.
But I’m not worried about Mario making a move on Alice. She’s made it clear how much she craves my hands on her perfect curves. And as she glances at me while reaching for a plate on the shelf, the subtle wobble of her breasts makes me want to plunge headlong inside her.
She narrows her eyes at me as I watch her, my gaze blurring as I adjust the crotch of my jeans.
For a moment, I believe she’s going to chastise me, but then her eyes widen.
“Behind you!” she shouts.
I blink away the spell she’s cast on me, then I spin around.
A thick plume of smoke billows from the wood-fire oven, and I curse as I remember I had a steak in there. Pulling out the cast-iron skillet, I angrily chuck the blackened meat into the nearest bin.
Warner quickly abandons the line to grab the last Tomahawk out of the dry-aging fridge. Alice and Mario make no attempt to hide their laughter, though Alice’s cheeks are flushed.
I slide in next to her to whisper in her ear. “I reckon you’re blushing, love. Keep taking the piss out of me, and I’ll give you something to blush about.”
I smile as her hands begin to tremble. “Better keep an eye on your meat,” she murmurs.
“I’d rather you keep an eye on my meat,” I whisper, fully aware I’m pushing the boundaries of impropriety. “Meet me in my office at closing.”
As if summoned by my dirty thoughts, Alice arrives at my office door shortly before midnight.
I quickly add the final item to tonight’s produce order and close the lid on my laptop. “Come to bid me goodnight?”
She glances over her shoulder into the staff corridor, then she casts a sultry look in my direction. “I was wondering if we could continue that lesson we started a couple weeks ago. The menu-planning app.”
I keep my expression quite serious as I nod. “Of course. Please shut the door. We wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Yes, Chef,” she coos as she closes the door behind her, remembering to turn the lock.
I curl my finger to beckon her to me. She tiptoes in my direction with her hands clasped behind her back. When she’s on my side of the desk, I lean back in my chair, widening my knees. She can’t be more than five-foot-two, as we’re almost eye-to-eye when I’m sitting in this chair.
“Who’s left in the kitchen?”
She purses her lips as she thinks about this for a moment. “I think it’s just Emilio mopping the floor, and I saw Andy taking out the trash.”
“Warner’s gone?”
She nods excitedly.
“Mario too?” I ask, unable to hide the note of jealousy in my tone.
She shakes her head. “You really need to stop burning food or people are going to get real suspicious.”
I finally allow myself to crack a smile as I reach forward and grab her hips. “Can’t help it when I have this in my face all blooming day,” I say, landing a soft smack on her arse.
She rolls her eyes. “So, quit your job and start a religion dedicated to worshipping my ass. Problem solved.”
I shrug. “Hmm… I reckon I might need to see it before I take such drastic measures.”
Her body tenses and she takes a step back. “We can’t keep doing this here. We’re going to get caught.”
I clench my jaw as I realize she’s hedging again. I’m beginning to wonder how much longer I can keep doing this back and forth.
“What do I have to do to prove to you I’m not him?”
Her eyes meet mine and she seems surprised I’m calling her out.
“Name it and I’ll do it,” I say without hesitation, and I mean every word.
A tentative smile curls her gorgeous lips. “Anything?”
I shake my head as I realize where this is going. “You agreed to a ninety-day probation.”
“But you know I can do the job,” she pouts.
“If I give you the job now instead of waiting ninety days, it won’t look good.”
“It won’t look good? What does that even mean?”
I stare at her in utter confusion. “If I fast-track you to the sous chef position, the staff will abso-bloody-lutely think we’re sleeping together.”
She winces at the reminder. “Right. Can’t believe I forgot that. But you’re the one who keeps ogling me and whispering in my ear. People are getting suspicious. We may as well just assume everyone knows.”
I let out a heavy sigh as I lean back in my chair again. “I
don’t care if the staff knows. But I rather prefer not to be murdered by your father.”
She smiles as she steps forward, raising one knee in the air as if she’s about to straddle me, when we’re both startled by a knock at the door.
“Take a seat,” I whisper to her, and she quickly sits in the chair on the other side of the desk. I rise and make my way to the door, opening it wide as possible, as if I have nothing to hide. “Yes?”
Emilio glances at Alice and back to me. “The floor drain in the kitchen is slow. I put some bio-crystals in the drain, so hopefully it will be clear by tomorrow, but whoever opens tomorrow will need to test it. I don’t know if we can open if it’s clogged. Code violation.”
I turn to Alice for confirmation of whether this is a health code violation, and she shrugs. “Bloody hell.” I ponder the situation for a moment before I realize Emilio is waiting for me to dismiss him. “Thank you, Emilio. Enjoy your evening.”
“You too, Chef.”
I wait until he’s left through the rear entrance, then I listen quietly for any sound indicating Andy is still in the building, but I hear nothing. Turning to Alice, I can’t help but smile as I realize we’re alone for the first time since we spent the night together in the hotel.
“Come with me.”
Chapter 16
ALICE
As I follow Ethan out into the corridor, I watch him slide his phone out of his pocket and tap the screen a few times until the restaurant’s sound system begins playing a Frank Sinatra song I don’t recognize. As we reach the staff door leading to the dining room, the lyrics say something about finding time to spend an evening together. I know where this evening is headed, and I’m one thousand percent on board.
Except for one thing.
“I’ll be right out,” I say as he holds the staff door open for me. “Just have to use the restroom.”
He smiles as he seems to know exactly what I’m going to do. “I’ll be at the bar.”
My limbs flood with a warm giddiness as I half-jog to the employee restroom and close the door behind me. Unbuttoning my jeans, I breathe a sigh of relief to find I remembered to wear a semi-decent black, lacy pair of underwear today. As I sit on the toilet to freshen myself up, my phone vibrates on the sink.
