“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
She slips off his lap and exits through the passenger-side door, waving goodbye to him when she gets to the front door of the apartment complex. Alexander sits there until he’s sure she’s safely inside. That, and he needs to calm down a bit because driving with a hard-on is as uncomfortable as it gets.
Intuition. Clairvoyance. Sixth sense.
Eden can call it whatever she damn well likes, but the result is still the same.
Even before she walks into work, she can tell something is wrong. She feels tension deep within her core, the kind that makes her want to throw up whilst gasping for a full breath of air. At first, she worries she’s coming down with something —maybe one of those 24-hour bugs that seems to be going around— but then she steps into La Rouge, spots Alexander, and suddenly understands.
She’s never seen him quite this stressed before. He isn’t angry or on the brink of erupting.
It’s far worse than that. It’s a quiet panic, one that has his face alarmingly pale, his nostrils flared, his dark eyes staring off into space.
Some of the other chefs are already here, looking to Eden in concern. “What’s going on?” she asks Freddie, stepping forward.
“Palton’s coming,” he explains gravely. “Sebastian invited him, can you believe that bastard?”
Eden frowns. “Who?”
“You seriously don’t know who he is?” Rina asks, a little incredulous. “Simon Palton is one of the bitchiest, nastiest, mostup-his-own-assfood critics out there.”
Peter shakes his head in dismay. “He never gives a good review. The last restaurant he visited tanked shortly after he published his piece on them. The executive chef there had no choice but to retire because nobody else was willing to hire him afterwards.”
“But it’s only one review,” Eden mumbles. “Surely it can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, it is. Palton’s got a stupid amount of pull in the culinary industry. I’m talking connections to food producers, every kind of news outlet... He’s been around for a millennium, so he’s got his hand in fucking everything. He’ll sink your career if he so much as believes you looked at him the wrong way.”
Eden scoffs. “That’s ridiculous.”
She looks to Alexander, who’s been silent this whole time. She can tell he’s formulating a plan. He’s calculating, considering his options. Even she knows there’s no way out of this now. It’s not like they can turn the food critic away—because that’d be a one-way ticket to guaranteed closure, especially considering that it was Sebastian who invited him—but Alexander doesn’t look quite ready to split his focus between running his kitchen and making sure Palton has everything he needs.
This is a test.
“Alexander?” Eden says softly. “Tell us what you need.”
He chews on the inside of his cheek, deep in concentration. “I need...”
“Anything,” Peter adds encouragingly. “Just let us know.”
“Yeah,” Rina says with a nod. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“We’ve got your back,” Freddie assures. “Just give us the order.”
Alexander takes a deep breath, wearing a genuinely appreciative smile. “Eden?”
“Yes, chef?”
“You’ll run the line tonight. I’ll be here in case anything goes wrong, but I’ll be catering to Palton personally. The rest of you, business as usual. Give Eden your undivided attention. We clear?”
A chorus of, “Yes, chef!” echoes throughout the kitchen.
“Good. Now, get to work.”
Everybody else scurries off, chatting amongst themselves as they prepare for tonight’s service. It’s going to be a busy one. There are three separate reservations of at least twenty people per party. It’s also a Saturday evening, which means La Rougewill be packed full of weekend-goers looking for a reprieve from their regular nine-to-fives. If Sebastian really did invite Palton, then he chose the absolute worst time to do it.
Eden places a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “You’ve got this,” she tells him.
He smiles.Reallysmiles. “Thank you, Eden.”
