Shang doesn’t even flinch. He steps forward, standing at full height with his chest proud. “We’re not here for you. Bring me Sebastian.”
Hector’s cheeks turn as red as his hair, a deep, furious crimson. “How dare you—”
Eden presses her hand to his face and pushes him aside. “Move along, bucko. We’ve got business to take care of.”
Shang follows dutifully into battle, not even bothering to look Hector in the eye as he passes. Hector isn’t worth a grain of salt, let alone his acknowledgement.
They find Sebastian squirreled away in the kitchen office, hunched over the little desk inside. There are maybe four or five other chefs at work, milling about with nothing to do. One glance at the kitchen is all it takes for Shang to know La Rouge is severely understaffed.
“What are you doing here?” Sebastian snarls.
“We’re here for an apology,” Shang replies evenly.
His former employer scoffs. “You’ve both come back to grovel, have you? I’d never take either of you back in a million years.”
“No,” Eden corrects, crossing her arms. “We’re here for an apology fromyou.”
“From me? For what?”
“For trying to sabotage our new restaurant with fake reviews,” Shang says, holding up a finger as he counts off Sebastian’s offenses. “For releasing false and defamatory information about me to be published in Gastronomica, and for forcing us to deal with the shriveled up asshole that you are.”
Sebastian stands, but he’s the furthest thing from intimidating. Shang and Eden have him boxed in with nowhere to go.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he seethes. “And even if I did, I’d never apologize to the likes of you.”
Eden tilts her head to the side, nonchalant. “We’re giving you one opportunity, Sebastian. Shang’s letting you off the hook easy. All he wants is an apology for the years of mistreatment you subjected him to. I personally wanted to lock you in the walk-in until you were a popsicle, but he made me see reason.”
The vein at Sebastian’s temple throbs, threatening to burst. “I will never apologize to hacks like you. You’re both a disgrace to the culinary world!”
Shang sighs, glancing over at Eden with a shrug. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”
She grins. “With pleasure.” Eden quickly reaches into her pocket for her phone and sends off a quick text.
“What are you doing?” Sebastian demands. “You’re both wasting my time. Leave the premises at once, or I’ll have the police escort you—”
Shang slaps down the manila folder he’s been carrying onto the desk. It flips open, hundreds of documents spilling out from inside.
Sebastian’s eyes are bloodshot, his nostrils flared. “What is the meaning of this?”
“This,” Shang begins, “is courtesy of a friend of ours. A private investigator, as a matter of fact. She’s managed to trace every single one of those fake reviews back to you. She’s also unearthed a handful of connections that you have in the industry—food critics, reporters, other restaurateurs, ex-employees—who are willing to testify about all of your shady dealings.”
“Shady dealings?” Sebastian snaps. “I won’t stand for this slander!”
“You can deny it all you want,” Eden says, “but we’ve got all the evidence we need to prove that you’ve been underpaying staff, sabotaging competition, and even paying reviewers to give your restaurants a boost in ratings to justify price hikes in your menus.” She holds her phone up. “I just sent a message to our PI to release everything to the press. Had you apologized like we asked…”
Shang smiles. “Thank you, Sebastian. I’ll admit that I’m grateful for the help and mentoring that you provided me earlier in my career. I wouldn’t be the chef I am today without you. But everything after that… After you stripped me of my name, drove a wedge between me and my family, almost ruined my passion for food, telling me everyday that I’d be nothing without you… I realize now that it was all bullshit. Everything that I am—that’s all me, my friends, and my loved ones.” He slips a hand around Eden’s waist. “I hope you have a nice life.”
Eden peers up at him with a grin. “Ready to go?”
“After you, sweetheart.”
Sebastian’s too stunned to speak. To argue. Hell, to evenbreathe.
Shang and Eden leave without another word, their fingers laced tightly together.
“You have to sharpen your knives before service every single time,” he instructs. “It’s dangerous to work with a dull blade. Can you tell me why?”
Amanda looks up from the notes she’s been writing. “Because dull knives encourage you to apply too much pressure. If you slip, you could seriously end up cutting yourself.”
