“—one of those videos has been identified to be from New Orleans, when you and Angelica were there to work with Chateau Orleans.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“That would imply your relationship with Angelica started well before last season.”
What the hell do I say?
“So when you say your relationship started last season, do you mean a formal relationship?”
Hope panicked. Fear rose from her belly and clutched her throat, tightening its squeeze around her and making it impossible to breathe and speak. “We…” She gasped for breath. She needed air to speak. She needed words to say. “We…last season, yes.”
“Cut it!” Florence’s voice rang through the small hotel room. The red light went off, indicating nothing was live.
Hope’s vision blurred before it cleared.
She ripped the earpiece from her and then the microphone from her shirt. She stood up and raced out of the room. She said nothing to anyone. She pulled down on her chef’s coat and walked through the lobby, making eye contact with Angelica, but she said nothing as she sped up her walk.
She’d fucked up.
After the night of calm and connection, she’d gone and fucked everything up this morning, and Angelica would find out about it shortly enough. Hope bypassed the dining room and stepped outside into the small courtyard, the one place they’d managed to keep free of paparazzi. She rolled her shoulders and took her first breath of fresh air in hours.
“Fuck,” she said, digging her fingers into her hair and pulling sharply at the strands.
She checked her watch and took five minutes for the panic that had grabbed her to wash through her as best as she could manage. She scuffed her shoe against the sidewalk, she pulled her hair even harder, she did everything she could to keep herself from screaming out into the abyss.
With her five minutes up, Hope walked back inside and headed straight for the kitchen. Cadence paled, but she didn’t say anything. Had they all witnessed that disastrous interview? Or had Florence called and told her how bad it had all gone? Hope didn’t even care.
She just needed to throw herself into something—anything—that would take her mind off that. “Trey! Enzo! How’s prep going for tonight?”
Trey popped his head out from the freezer. “Good, Chef.”
“Good.” Hope put her hands on her hips and surveyed the kitchen. “Let’s run through the entire menu. The restaurant is going to be filled tonight, we have extra staff coming in to help out short-term since we know there will be an influx. We need to get them trained on everything involved in the menu. Chef?” Hope looked directly at Trey. “I want you to take charge of teaching everyone the ins and outs of this menu.”
“Yes, Chef,” Trey responded, but he looked nervous.
Of course he would. Hope had abandoned him after one dish last night, and they still had four more they needed to learntogether. Though they weren’t difficult by any means. She’d purposely kept the menu short and simple and elegant.
“Come on. Let’s get cooking. Maria will be in to train the wait staff in two hours.”
Hope took one more glance around before she lost herself in what she did best.
Cooking.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
“Ange.”
Angelica looked up from the computer at reception and the conversation she was having with Joy. Florence just didn’t interrupt scenes. But she was now. And she looked forlorn and pained. Florence nodded her head away from the desk.
“I’m in the middle of something, can it wait?” Angelica asked, keeping herself half leaning over the desk.
“No.” Florence seemed even more hurt by that.
Angelica straightened her shoulders and narrowed her gaze. “All right. Joy, keep going through these ideas and deciding what exactly you want the branding to be. Chef Lawrence is working off the theme of elegance and local, so she’s pared the menu down to five dishes that will highlight what Virginia Beach has best to offer.”
“Pared the menu down?” Joy visibly paled.
