Alexander’s jaw tenses. “That’s not his call to make.”
“That’s what I said.”
“So, did you?”
“What?”
“Fire her.”
Eden shivers, her whole body suddenly turning cold. “No.”
He doesn’t say anything. Not right away. Instead, he stares at her, his brows knit together into a steep and severe frown. Alexander crosses his arms over his chest, his thoughts a mystery to her.
Eden’s eyes wander over the expanse of his broad chest, his strong shoulders. His arms are massive, the curve of muscles obvious beneath the black material of his chef jacket.
She takes a step forward, determined and unperturbed. “You said all that matters is if someone can cook!”
“Yes, but that doesn’t include lying on one’s job application. It’s a violation of our code of conduct. She has to go, Monroe. No exceptions.”
Her head swims. The sudden queasiness in her stomach leaves her winded. What will happen to her if she’s found out just like Amanda? Will she lose her job, too?
“There has to be something we can do for her,” she insists. “She just wants to work. Is it really such a big deal?”
“This is La Rouge.”
“You say that like it means something.”
Alexander’s eye twitches. He straightens his back, stands at full height. There’s barely two inches between the two of them. Eden swallows. Her throat’s awfully dry all of a sudden.
“La Rouge is a fine dining establishment,” he says, an edge to his tone. “Our patrons come here expecting the best of the best. Anexperience. One that they’re willing to shell out top dollar for. They come with the expectation that they’re being served by some of the most talented chefs in the world, not someone who weaseled their way into our kitchen by luck.”
Eden furrows her brows. Doesn’t he know that talent and pedigree aren’t the same thing?
“Kind of pompous, isn’t it?” she asks tersely.
“Welcome to the world of haute cuisine, sweetheart.”
Her breath catches in her throat.
Sweetheart.
She knows he’s being sarcastic, but the word echoes around inside her skull and makes her feel so terribly strange. Tingly. Oddlywarm. Her heart picks up in pace and her skin burns like soft fire. A tiny voice in the back of her head craves to hear him say it again.
Alexander leans forward, officially leaving no space between them. They’re so close that all it would take is for Eden to tilt her chin up just so for their lips to touch.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says, tone low and smooth. He smells like peppermint toothpaste and clean laundry, hints of hazelnuts and vanilla lingering just beneath the surface.
“Chef?” she mumbles, mesmerized by the warmth radiating off of his body.
“You’re going to go out there and you’re going to fire Amanda.”
“But—”
“But what, Monroe?”
“I don’twantto.”
His hands graze her hips on either side, his dark eyes glued to her lips. “You know what your problem is?”
