Trent
PRESENT DAY...
I parked the car, cut the engine and stared out the windshield. The size of the diner in front of me had me wondering if I’d arrived at the wrong location. My gaze shifted to the neon sign situated front and center above the door to the mid-size building. Nope. I was at the right place. The tinted windows killed my idea of a furtive inspection.
Grabbing my mobile, I moved to open the door when the device buzzed in my hand. I glanced at the name flashing across the screen and answered. “Rayden?”
“Hey, Trent.”
“Jesus, man what happened to you? You left the wedding without a word and disappear for almost a month with no contact. You had your father worried, have you called him?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ll call him after I’m done chatting to you.” There was no mistaking the tiredness in his voice and I didn’t blame him. He’d had a rough couple of months.
“What gives?”
“Zena’s alive.”
“What?” I glanced at my phone as though I hadn’t heard right then placed it to my ear again. “That’s a sick joke.”
Rayden uttered a caustic laugh. “That’s what I said. Where are you? I’m heading to your place.”
I stalled, debating whether I should tell him. “Enigma,” I muttered at length.
“Finally decided on giving New York a taste of your culinary expertise?” He laughed. Considering it was one of Zena’s favorite restaurants, his calm surprised me.
“Ray, what do you mean Zena’s alive.”
I heard Rayden blow out a heavy breath. “Trent, I’ll tell you everything when you get home.”
“Cool. I’ll see you there.”
“Sure.” I disconnected the call and drummed my fingers on the wheel, wondering about my cousin’s abrupt announcement. Two and half years ago, Rayden’s girlfriend was killed in a car accident, traumatized and grieving, he withdrew from family and friends, taking a sabbatical, and traveling Africa. Only, his return home had brought with it a truckload of drama that none of us could have anticipated.
Sighing, I climbed out my Lamborghini and studied the diner once more. A few months ago and after a year of deliberation, I’d mentioned my intention to franchise my global restaurant to the Manhattan market. Rayden had suggested I convince the elusive chef from Enigma to come work for me. Apparently, they served some of the best meals in the city. When his father seconded the idea, I was convinced.
Now, staring at the diner situated along the New York dockyards, I was a little skeptical. I owned a Michelin five-star chain. Would a chef serving diner food hold up in my kitchen?
“Never judge a book by its cover, Trent,” I repeated my uncle’s advice.
Wondering if I was wasting my fucking time, I shook my head, opened the door into the restaurant, and paused. Not only was I surprised by the classy décor of light brown and gray finishes enhanced with touches of green, but the distinct aroma of citrus, pecan pie, and rich coffee beans sang to the restauranteur in my blood. Grinning, I took another step forward as a pretty brunette approached me.
Her smile wide, I didn’t miss the quick slide of her eyes over my suit-clad body before coming back to rest on my face. “Table for one?” I nodded. “This way, please.”
Following her, I glanced around the empty restaurant, catching the reserved markers on more than a few tables with a creased brow. “Quiet night?” I asked, taking a seat at the table she indicated.
“No. You’re a little early.” She checked her watch. “Another forty-five minutes and all these tables will be filled.”
“Regulars?”
“Some. I’m guessing it’s your first time here?” She touched my hand resting on the table. Her smile an open flaunt.
Any other day I would’ve flirted but I was here on business. I nodded. “Do you always reserve tables?” I sat back, creating some distance.
“It’s a first-come, first-serve basis but we’re a little accommodating for the regulars.” She smiled. “I’m Tia, I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Any chance I can meet the chef?”
