With all the components on the go, he stands and saunters over with the swagger of a freaking Adonis, his proximity making it hard to breathe.
“It smells amazing. May I?” he asks, pointing at the sauce simmering on the burner. I grab a spoon and offer it to him, my hand trembling.
“Of course.” I clear my throat, eager to show no fear. Confidence. “Please, try it. I would love your feedback.
He gives me a sly grin before dipping the spoon in the pot and bringing it to his lips. “Fuck me,” he groans as he closes his eyes, savoring the taste. My heart takes flight in my chest, and that groan—other parts of me react, traitorous and shameless as my breath catches.
“Is it good?” I don’t recognize my voice, desperate for his approval. His praise.
“It’s fucking amazing. This holds up against anything I’ve had in Italy, in the Tuscan hills. I’m impressed.” I’m giddy with excitement.
“Really?” I see his eyes flit to the rapid rise and fall of my chest for a millisecond before he meets my gaze.
“I can’t wait to taste the finished dish.”
“Thank you, sir.” He chews on his bottom lip for a second, and I can’t tear my eyes away. When he puts some distance between us, I’m a little disappointed, but that’s something to examine later, when my future career could be made today.
“Ryder. Call me Ryder.” He takes his seat, letting me go to work.
“Thank you… Ryder.”
I spend the next few hours at ease as I concentrate on making every last detail perfect. Usually, I would let the focaccia dough sit a lot longer, but for today, this will have to do. I know it’ll still taste great.
By the time I’m done, my heart is full, the joy of food overflowing as I finish plating my dish. When I offer it to him, he takes it and asks me to follow him out into the empty dining room. We sit at the best table in the house, the eerie silence amping me up as I watch him slice into the lasagna.
I wait for a few moments, eager to hear his thoughts on my food, but at the same time, I’m terrified that it won’t be as good as he was hoping for.
“Jesus Christ, Aspen.” My stomach lurches up into my throat, my hands growing clammy as I wring them under the table. “This is phenomenal. I’d be proud to put this on Dulip’s menu.”
That’s the highest praise I could ever get from a chef like him.
“Oh my God, you like it?”
“No. I fucking love it.” My heart is hammering in my chest, ready to burst forth and fly high on his approval.
I watch intently as he takes a slice of focaccia and passes it across those beautiful lips. “You’re no longer a waitress at this restaurant, Aspen.”
“What? Whatever is wrong with it, I can fix it. I can learn. I’m a hard worker.”
“I guess I’ll need to make you a chef in one of my kitchens instead.” A wry grin creeps at the corners of his lips, reaching his eyes.
“Are you serious? You won’t regret this. I promise. Thank you. I… I’m speechless.”
“There are a few things you need to know about before you say yes. Don’t you want to know your salary? Or a benefits package? Or where you’ll be working?”
“I’ll cook for you on the moon if that’s what you want. I don’t care about any of that stuff. I want to work under you, sir. Ryder. Chef.”
Chapter 6
RYDER
Now is not the time to explain the details of Venom and the restaurant I plan to open on the rooftop.
“There’s just a lot of details to figure out. For now, I’ll have you shadow Leonard in the kitchen, and he’ll get you involved wherever possible. Then, when you’ve proven yourself during a dinner service, we’ll talk about my newest venture.”
“Is it still in Manhattan?”
“Yes.” Her shoulders sag in relief. I wonder if she’ll still feel that way when I ask her to work in a kink club. I plan to get it started myself as head chef, so I know it would be an invaluable learning experience for her.
