Nevertheless, he ends up eating a quarter of the mini tacos before handing the plate back to her. Considering who she’s dealing with, Eden takes it as a compliment that he didn’t trash her efforts after the first bite.
“What do you want me to do with the rest?” she asks.
He wipes his large hands on the front of his apron. “Finish it off and then get started on prep. The others will be here in a few minutes.”
“Finish it off? You mean I get to—”
Alexander’s already gone, retreating into the shadows of the kitchen office.
Eden’s mouth waters. She’s been surviving on instant ramen and that cheap Indian restaurant around the corner from her apartment for months now. Even though she works in a five-star restaurant, Eden can’t even begin to dream of affording something off of La Rouge’s menu.
She takes Alexander up on the offer and eats up every last crumb, swallowing everything down in a hurry. Rich sauce coats her tongue, her grumbling belly thankful for the meal.
Today’s shaping up to be a good day.
Today’s most certainlynotshaping up to be a good day.
Seeing the state of Eden’s knives was physically painful for Alexander to stomach.
They were old as hell, sharpened within an inch of their life. Even the handles had been worn down from repeated use, dips in the wood where her fingers form a grip.
It’s not uncommon for professional chefs to go through a new set once every three years or so. Alexander personally sharpens his work knives every day well before service starts. He prefers German knives to Japanese ones. They’re heavy and thick, offering perfect balance in his large hands. A chef is only as good as his tools.
Which is exactly why Alexander has no idea how Eden’s made it this far. She must be operating out of sheer stubbornness and talent alone. He recognizes that he’s irritated, but not because of the damn toothpicks she calls knives.
He’s irritated because there’s clearly more going on than meets the eye. Eden obviously has the right not to open up about whatever’s going on. It’s her personal business, and Alexander has no right to pry. But this growing feeling of concern is beginning to eat at him. It sits in the pit of his stomach, quietly stewing.
Catching public transport. Sad uniform. Scarfing down food like she never gets to eat. Something isn’t right.
Alexander may or may not have peeked out of the kitchen office to make sure Eden actually ate the rest of her Asian fusion abomination. HerdeliciousAsian fusion abomination.
As much as it bothers him to admit, Alexander has never tasted anything so amazing before. The sauce was tangy, notes of lime coming to the forefront without being overpowering.
The mini pita shells she’d used had been warmed on the skillet, offering a lovely crunchy texture to offset the softness of the Pad Thai. Alexander is pretty sure he would have finished the whole damn thing, but then he heard Eden’s stomach grumble.
He couldn’t quite understand the warmth that bloomed in his chest to see her so fully enjoying her meal. She looked so happy, so delighted. It made him feel… strange.
His phone dings again, and he knows he can’t get away with hiding anymore. There are five new messages waiting for him, all from the same sender.
Sebastian: How are things going with the new menu, my boy?
Sebastian: I hope your new hire is helping to relieve some of your responsibilities.
Sebastian: I expect great things. Winning another Michelin will be a feather in La Rouge’s cap.
Sebastian: Slow to respond today, eh? I hope you’re managing.
Sebastian: You’re busy. I understand. Reply when you can.
Alexander drags a hand over his face.
Fuck.
He’s been putting off coming up with a new menu for Sebastian for months now, and he doesn’t know how much longer his excuses will hold up. At first, Alexander had argued that the lack of a sous chef placed too much work on his shoulders to fully concentrate on making new recipes. Now his excuse is that he’s still busy training his sous, so he doesn’t have time.
Allegedly.
He just doesn’t want to admit that he’s in a slump. He has been for a very long time, and he’s just barely pulling things together to give the impression that nothing’s wrong. Nobody knows that he’s losing it, his passion for food. He just...
