Dirty Chef

by Bailey, Sarah

  Dirty Chef

  Dirty Series

  Book Three

  Sarah Bailey

  Dirty Chef Copyright © 2020 by Sarah Bailey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Please note the spelling throughout is British English.

  Cover Art by Sarah Bailey

  Published by Twisted Tree Publications

  www.twistedtreepublications.com

  info@twistedtreepublications.com

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Acknoweldgements

  About The Author

  To all those with dirty little fantasies involving someone forbidden, this one’s for you.

  Chapter One

  Riley

  The kitchen was extra busy tonight. A normal night at Haze could be described as hectic. This happened to be something else entirely. Usually, I loved the atmosphere and the heat of the kitchen, but ever since I started working here, all I felt was stress and tension. It had everything to do with working under head chef and owner, Lucien Dumont. Not only was he a highly respected chef, but he had a reputation for being a perfectionist and a hard arse. And boy did he live up to that. The way he barked orders at us, glaring with those harsh blue-grey eyes, which almost looked murderous in some lights, had half the chefs quaking in fear. Me included. If something wasn’t right, you’d know about it.

  Why did I want to work under such a terrifying man? He was a genius. The way he talked about food and developed his menus spoke of his passion. He was the beating heart and soul of his kitchen. Nothing went out if it didn’t obtain Lucien’s approval. He demanded the highest standards and for good reason. It kept diners raving about his food and coming back.

  I glanced over at him standing by the pass from my station. No one could describe Lucien as anything but striking. His chef whites were perfectly crisp. The way his muscles rippled as he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled had my mouth watering. Auburn hair currently slicked back off his face and a full beard made him eye-wateringly attractive. And completely out of my league. I doubted he knew my name even though he’d been the one to interview and hire me.

  Christ, get a grip, Riley!

  I may have a huge crush on my boss. Okay, more than a crush. I practically worshipped the ground he walked on when he wasn’t shouting at me. Lucien was just about the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on in real life. Everything about him screamed sex, lust, intensity and danger.

  Before I burnt the lettuce, I happened to be charring, I tore my gaze away from him and got back to work. The sounds of pots banging, knives slicing and choruses of “Yes, Chef,” permeated the air. This is what I loved about my job. The heat of the moment. Creating delicious plates which would soon be devoured by eager diners.

  Finishing up my two orders, I took them down to the pass, hoping I wouldn’t get an earful. I should’ve been better prepared when I set down the plates.

  “What the fuck is this?” Lucien barked at me, pointing at the first plate.

  I realised why. They didn’t match perfectly.

  “I… Uh…”

  “Not fucking good enough. Sort it out. Now.”

  I dragged the plates back towards me.

  “Yes, Chef. Sorry,” I mumbled, fixing both plates so they no longer looked messy.

  He barely glanced at me when I presented them again.

  “Service!”

  I hurried away back to my station, ignoring Glenn sniggering because I’d been told off yet again.

  Why does he always have to be a twat of epic proportions?

  I didn’t like most of the guys in the kitchen. They looked down on me because I didn’t have as much experience as them. So what if I’d only been in the industry for two years? Didn’t make me an amateur. They probably thought I was given the number of times I had Lucien giving me hell for something being out of place. I didn’t mind him correcting me since this was his restaurant. His reputation. His livelihood. I respected that even if I hated how his voice made me tremble when he raised it.

  When the evening drew to a close, I was about ready to drop dead on my feet. I stayed later than everyone else making sure the place was spotless. Plus I didn’t really want to go home to my empty studio flat. Ever since Beck and I split up and he’d moved out, I’d been lonely.

  I couldn’t exactly blame Beck for ending things. For the past year, I’d been fixated on getting a job at Haze under Lucien Dumont. It was all I talked about. When I finally did three months ago, Beck thought I might shut up about my boss. I hadn’t. It led to arguments which ultimately ended our relationship. That was four weeks ago.

  My epic crush on my boss on a personal and professional level had ruined my relationship.

  Worst part?

  I didn’t regret a thing.

  I loved Beck but not in the way you should love your boyfriend of four years. The thought of being intimate with him hadn’t appealed to me in a long time. Beck wasn’t a seriously ripped, blue-grey eyed chef who barked orders at me. One who had just walked into the empty kitchen and was staring at me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Is there a reason you’re still here, Riley?”

  My throat constricted. He knew my name. And he’d caught me in the kitchen after hours.

  Great. My boss doesn’t need to know I have no life.

  “Um… No. I was just about to get going.”

  He cocked his head to the side.

  “You hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  It might be after eleven and I had managed to wolf down a sandwich on my break, but I could always eat. What I didn’t know is why my boss was interested in whether I needed food or not.

  “Well, I suggest you go change and meet me in the back corridor.”

  Without giving me time to formulate a response, he left the kitchen. I stared at the door he’d just gone through.

  What is happening?

  Not wanting to incur his wrath, I dashed out of the kitchen and into the staff changing room. Pulling off my chef whites, I dumped them in my locker to take home later to wash before tugging on my jeans and plain burgundy t-shirt. I took my hair out of its ponytail and brushed it before washing my face and putting on deodorant along with body spray. I decided to forgo makeup since he’d only ever seen me without in the kitchen.

  I didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer than necessary, so I hurried out into the back corridor. He was nowhere to be seen. Had he been kidding about wanting to meet me here? I never knew what to expect when it came to my boss. I slumped against the wall, dragging my white Converse across the lino floor. I’d wait five minutes and if he didn’t show up, I’d get my bag and go home.

  A door I knew led upstairs opened and Lucien popped his head out.

  “Coming?” he asked when he spied me leaning up against the wall a few feet away.

  I shoved off it and walked over as he held the door open for me. Following him up
the stairs, I realised he was taking me to his place. I vaguely knew Lucien lived above the restaurant which is why he was here all the time. He rarely took a day off and if he did, it was to go check out the competition or a new opening. Lucien could only be described as a workaholic. I didn’t know much about his personal life, but I was relatively sure he didn’t have a girlfriend. None of the other chefs had ever seen him with a woman and they’d worked under him a lot longer than I had.

  He pushed open his flat door with his hip and ushered me in, taking it off the latch as he closed it. He brought me into a huge open-plan space that looked more like it had been an ex-warehouse than a flat. It had several exposed wooden beams running across the ceiling, bamboo flooring and white walls. There were splashes of colour with the teal cushions scattered across the light grey sofa. He had a huge dining table made of dark mahogany wood.

  Whilst the room itself was striking, it was the kitchen which caught my eye. The countertops were granite with light wooden cabinets. He had this massive centre island and the hob was stainless steel with six huge burners. I was in heaven, making a beeline straight for it and running my hand across the counter.

  “You can be my personal sous chef for the night.”

  I jumped, finding him standing right behind me. My face felt hot. I knew what he meant was innocent, but there was an undercurrent to his tone that had my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

  What do I even say to that?

  I’d never shared a conversation with my boss. Now I was in his flat and we’d be cooking together. Did he do this with any of the other chefs? I doubted it considering I’d never heard of Lucien inviting anyone upstairs after hours. It made me wonder why he’d asked me.

  “Okay, what are we making?”

  He walked over to one of the taller cabinets and pulled it out. I quickly realised this was his pantry. It was full of fresh veg, spices and various tins.

  “Squash is in season. We’ll roast them and make a salad. Something simple since I’m sure you’re tired after this evening’s madness.”

  He pulled a couple out and tossed them at me. I just about managed to catch them and place them on the counter. He was right. This evening had been madness. I was surprised I was still standing on two feet. I suppose the knowledge I’d be spending time with Lucien, my incredibly hot boss, kept me awake.

  “Dice those for me.”

  “Yes, Chef,” I mumbled, looking around for where the knife block and chopping board resided.

  “I’m not your boss right now, Riley. You don’t need to call me Chef.”

  I looked up at him. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but there was amusement in his expression.

  “Sorry, force of habit.”

  He pointed over to where the knives were situated as if noticing my hesitation to start on the task he’d given me. I walked over and selected an appropriate one before tugging over the giant wooden chopping board resting nearby and making a start on the squash. Before I’d even managed to cut one in half, I found a very solid body behind me.

  “Not like that,” he said, leaning over my shoulder. “Here, let me show you.”

  Lucien wrapped himself around my body and placed his hands on mine. I froze, unsure of what the hell to do. My boss was pressed against me. I could feel his taut muscles across my back. My skin tingled all over. I could smell his slightly spicy scent mixed in with sweat because we’d been in the kitchen all evening. To me, it was heavenly and had my heart doing backflips in my chest.

  “You’re a good chef,” he murmured, his mouth so close to my ear, “but some of your knife skills need improvement.”

  I let out a long breath, not really knowing what to do as he began to place my hands in the appropriate place on the squash and the knife.

  “You see if you relax a little, you’ll find it easier to slice evenly.”

  How the hell could I relax when I had my boss caging me in with his solid body? My boss who I’d crushed on forever and fantasied what it’d be like to be this up close and personal with him. Of course, in my fantasies neither of us were wearing clothes, but that was hardly the point.

  “Like this?” I almost squeaked as he started to help me dice the squash.

  “Mmmhmm, just like that.”

  His breath tickled my neck. I could hardly breathe let alone focus on anything else but him. My hand almost slipped, but he kept me steady.

  “Careful, you wouldn’t want to cut yourself.”

  It would be his fault if I did. That’s when I noticed his breathing was just as heavy as mine. I could feel his chest rising and falling against my back as his deep voice rumbled through me. We stayed like that, him guiding me until the first squash was fully diced. Then he let go but didn’t step away.

  “Now you show me you can do it by yourself.”

  I swallowed, picking up the second squash and trying not to think too hard on why he was still standing so close to me. My hands shook as his fingers brushed over my sides before he placed them on the counter. Did he have any idea what he was doing to me? All those small touches sent heat flooding to my core.

  I started dicing, hoping I was doing it right. He didn’t say anything. All I could hear was his harsh breath by my ear. I wanted to ask him to step back so I could concentrate on the task properly, but I also wanted him close like this. So I could feel him against me even if it was just because he was demonstrating how to improve my skills.

  “There, you’ve got the hang of it now,” he told me as his hands left the counter.

  Flame licked across my skin as his fingers curled around my waist. I stopped moving entirely, the knife almost slipping from my fingers. I wanted to ask him what he was doing, but the words got caught in my throat.

  Did Lucien want more than just to cook with me right now?

  Chapter Two

  Lucien

  Petite little Riley Clark, my latest Chef de Partie was the fucking bane of my life. Not because she was bad at her job. She was brilliant despite her only having a couple of years’ experience under her belt. Better than some of my other chefs who’d been around in the industry a hell of a lot longer. No, Riley with her chestnut hair currently cascading down her back, golden flecked hazel eyes and small stature was a problem because I couldn’t stop looking at her. Couldn’t stop wondering what those little bow lips tasted like when she pursed them whilst concentrating on her work. Every time her brow furrowed, I wanted to smooth out the little lines which appeared between her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

  To say I had it bad for one of my employees would be an understatement. When I’d interviewed her three and a half months ago, I’d been struck by how stunningly beautiful this talented young chef was. I’d hired her on the spot after giving her a trial shift because she’d lived up to my standards. Perhaps I was a little harder on her than some of the others, but I wanted to push her to do better because I knew she was capable of it.

  I’d kept our relationship strictly professional. It was better that way. Then temptation wouldn’t get the better of me. That was until tonight when I found her alone in the kitchen. She had this sad look about her as if she was lonely and I couldn’t help but want to know why. So I’d invited her upstairs with the intention to just feed and talk to her.

  All of that went out the window now I was pressed up against her small body, listening to her erratic breathing and knowing she was just as affected by me as I was her.

  I shouldn’t have my hands on her right now. I could feel her trembling. This was a bad idea. She might think I was trying to take advantage of her. But I couldn’t stop. I had to know what Riley tasted like. Had to know what her soft skin felt like beneath her clothes. Whether she’d cry out my name in the throes of ecstasy.

  I couldn’t deny it. I wanted to strip her bare and plunge my throbbing cock inside her pussy right after I’d laid her out on my kitchen island.

  Well fuck.

  “Put the knife down,” I told her, my voice low.<
br />
  She placed it carefully on the chopping board. My thumbs traced circles around her sides and she shuddered, gripping the counter. The gesture made me bolder. I slid a hand under her t-shirt, almost groaning when her bare skin met my fingertips. I’d held myself back for too long. Her little gasp echoed around my skull.

  I traced my fingers over her stomach, feeling her tense up, but she didn’t tell me to stop. She didn’t say no. My hand moved higher, brushing over her ribcage until I met the bottom of her sports bra. Her body arched into my touch, her head rolling back onto my chest.

  “Are you hungry for a meal… or something else?” I said and watched as she exhaled, her knuckles going white. “Or maybe it’s both.”

  “I…”

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  I didn’t want to but I would if she wasn’t on board with it.

  “You’re… you’re my boss.”

  That fact hadn’t exactly slipped my mind. I just didn’t care about it. Not when I had her right here, my hands on the girl who’d haunted my thoughts for months. I wouldn’t let it affect work. This was strictly personal. Just between me and her.

  “This isn’t about work. I’m not your boss right now.” I traced my fingers across her chest below her bra. “Answer the question.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  I’d caught Riley staring at me on more than one occasion and had never been able to work out why. Mostly she kept her head down and got on with her work. Now I knew. She watched me because she wanted me like I wanted her.

  I didn’t want her nervous though like she’d told me she was. Slipping my hand from her t-shirt, I stepped back even though everything in me screamed not to. She let out a long breath, her hands relaxing on the counter again. I put my hands around her waist and tugged her away from it before picking her up and sitting her down on the kitchen island. Her hazel eyes were wide and her face flushed.