Silence spans the distance between us as she holds my gaze but refuses to speak. Fuck. I feel feral. I talked myself into having this conversation last week over drinks at Venom. In this moment, that seems like a dumbass decision I was railroaded into thinking was smart by my so-called friends.
I just have to rip off the band-aid and do it. She might not even agree to sign an NDA with zero context.
“I have a proposition for you.” I manage to keep my tone level. Aloof. Or I sound like a fucking asshole.
“Ok-ay.” She forces her knee to stop bouncing with nerves. This woman has a quiet strength that I admire.
“I want you to be the sous chef at my new location.”
“What?” It comes out so highly pitched that only dogs can hear. Fucking hell. She takes a deep breath and asks again. “What?”
“I told you there was going to be a new restaurant.”
“Yes, but I thought I’d be chopping vegetables or something. Your sous chef? That’s a big responsibility.”
“It is, which is why I plan to work the kitchen for the first few months until it’s running as well as Dulip. This is a chance for you to work directly under me, and for me to see if you have what it takes.”
“Oh my God.Yes. Are you sure? You have other more experienced chefs on your staff here at Dulip.”
“And they will remain here to run it as seamlessly as they do now. I’m going to put together an entirely new staff.”
“Well, I’m honored that you are considering me, and obviously, I would love to work under you.” Jesus. I’m going on the fast track to hell. All I can think about his how fucking glorious she would lookunderme as I work her body to a fever pitch. I clench my jaw to stop myself from saying something inappropriate. “Can I ask where the new premises will be?”
“That’s where it gets… complicated.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re sweet.”
“Chef Stevens, I’m not sure I know where this is going.”
Here goes nothing. I blow out a deep breath before pinning her gaze. “Before I can tell you the specifics, I require you to sign an NDA.”
“A Non-Disclosure Agreement? Is this a restaurant for the FBI?” she jokes, attempting to make light of the situation.
“I’m serious. What I’m about to tell youcannotbe divulged to anyone. If that doesn’t sound like something you can do, it’s best that you walk away now.” I’m an asshole. Iwanther to know. I’ve been consumed with thoughts of her at Venom—in my private room—all week.
“I’m fired?” My heart starts hammering in my chest, my pulse racing. I’m making an ass of this.
“No! God, no. I just can’t consider you for a position at the new restaurant. You will still have a job here for as long as you wish.”
“Do you have the NDA ready? Can I see it, please?” I slide a sheet of paper across the desk before scrubbing my hand over the stubble on my jaw. I shouldn’t have let it get this far. This girl isnotkinky.
She picks it up and reads it over. It’s simple enough, but I know it is intimidating. If she signs, she’s agreeing that nothing said in this room can be spoken of outside these walls. If she breaks the agreement, she leaves herself open to legal action. Not that I could bring myself to sue her even if she broke the terms, but she doesn’t know that.
Why did I let Flex talk me into this restaurant?
A million micro expressions cross her face as she reads, and I’m intrigued as to what she’s imagining. A mafia establishment? Crime lords and crème brûlée.
She sits in stunned silence for a few minutes, reading it over and over.
“Say something,” I command.
Do I really want to do this to her?I’m not sure.
Can I walk away from the chance to train such a talented chef?No.
“Do you have a pen I could borrow?” Fireflies take flight in my chest, the thrill of what’s to come unleashing itself. As much as I am telling myself I’m a good guy, if I were, I wouldn’t even entertain the idea of working with a woman I’m so captivated by.
