Page 6 of Burning Rivalry

“Fucking sideshow,” I muttered, shaking my head bitterly. “That’s all it is.”

“Isn’t that the whole gimmick here in Vegas?” Jackson pointed out with a good-natured grin. “Get them through the door using a name, make them stay, and give you their money once you offer value.”

“He’s right,” Aiden agreed. “She’s the draw. She’s bringing people in for you and creating a buzz about the new restaurant in advance of its opening. That can only be a good thing.”

None of them got it. The more I pushed, the less they would understand. “I’m sure you’re right,” I muttered, biting back my bitterness for the sake of changing the topic.

Unfortunately, no such thing was possible since the kitchen door swung open, and the woman of the hour stepped out.

I was going to be sick.

Instantly, a barrage of cell phones emerged, all held up so their owners could capture footage of Claudia offering a brief wave to the people who had clearly assembled in hopes of meeting her. The woman framed in the doorway was miles from the woman who had first entered my kitchen—polished, smiling, her glasses ditched in favor of contacts, her face made up.

It was a shame she looked so damn good.

“She’s smaller in real life than she was on TV,” Aiden mused. When I arched an eyebrow, he shrugged. “What? I saw her on a show last time I was at the doctor’s office. They had it playing in the waiting room.”

“Please.” Grayson chuckled. “I bet you were on the message boards, rooting for her to win the competition.”

“Cute,” Jackson murmured with obvious approval in his voice. “Very.”

“Don’t be fooled,” I warned through my teeth. For the sake of show, I maintained a pleasant expression, especially when Claudia passed our table.

“Sebastian,” she murmured, smiling warmly as she took in the faces of the men assembled around me. “Are these the friends I heard were visiting you tonight?”

What the fuck did she know about it? One thing about working in the kitchen—word intended to spread quickly. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with her knowing my friends would visit, but the idea of there being chatter surrounding my life didn’t sit well with me.

“Yes, these are my special guests tonight.” I made the introductions and watched her shake their hands while a few giggling young women seated nearby took photos and videos. My skin prickled, and my collar felt too tight like it was strangling me. What else could I do but sit back and play the part of the affable restaurateur?

Vaughn cleared his throat before sliding a guilty glance my way. “Would you mind taking a photo with me? My wife would love it. She’s watched the entire season of your show and is a big fan.”

“I’d be happy to.” She crouched beside him and smiled brightly while Vaughn took a selfie on his phone, then thanked her for her time.

“It’s my pleasure,” she assured him. Our eyes locked briefly before her gaze drifted away, but there was enough in that look to rouse my irritation. She knew I hated this. She had to know I had made it clear. None of this was my idea. “I’m sure if you gentlemen are hungry, they could rustle up something nice for you in the kitchen.”

“I’m sure I can handle it, thank you,” I interjected.

“Whatever you say. You’re the boss.” She somehow managed to make it sound like an insult before moving on and greeting more of her fans.

Aiden blew out a soft whistle, settling back in his chair. “I don’t know how much work I’d get done with her around. Damn.”

“For once, could you not think with your dick?” I muttered, watching her, gauging her progress from the corner of my eye. She played the part so well, carefully answering questions while accepting the adoration thrown so generously her way with an earnestness that made me want to jump to my feet and tell everyone within earshot range they needed to get their priorities straight. She won a fucking cooking show. That didn’t mean she wasn’t about to walk on water anytime soon.

“You know what you need?” Vaughn decided. “A visit to Dante’s club. Work out some of your stress.” We had all invested in Dante West’s Vegas expansion and had visited more than once, indulging in the safety and anonymity the club provided. It wouldn’t exactly be a good idea for any of us to openly show our faces there since we were all men with reputations in this town, but Dante believed in discretion above all things.

It was an appealing idea, but it didn’t excite me the way it normally would. “I have too much to do,” I decided, getting up from the table when Claudia finished her tour of the dining room. “Everyone ready to eat? I’ll send a server over here,” I told them, heading for the kitchen before anyone could respond. It was time to talk about expectations, starting with this nightly sideshow.

The energy in the kitchen was hectic as ever, with voices overlapping and questions being called out. “Surprise additions on table five! I just put in another two filets, medium-rare!” one of the servers called out as she finished assembling a bread basket, adding a trio of small ramekins to the tray.

“Hang on. What is this?” I picked one of the ramekins, holding them up for inspection. Seasoned olive oil. “Since when? This isn’t part of our bread service.”

“Claudia added it tonight.” The girl looked like she was ready to shit herself, trembling in the face of my anger. “I already had two tables rave about it.”

“Each version is meant to compliment the three types of bread sent to the table.” The sudden appearance of Claudia at my elbow was unwelcome, to say the least, even if she was the person who most deserved my aggravation. Pointing to them one at a time, she explained, “Black olive focaccia, sundried tomato sourdough, rosemary sea salt.”

It was a small deviation. Some would say not worth getting pissed off about, but some people were not me, and I had every fucking reason to be exactly that. “Maybe you didn’t get the memo,” I growled, keeping my voice low while the server scurried off with the tray. “But you do not make changes like that without consulting me. Frankly, I don’t see how you have the time…” I added with a smirk, “… with all the selfies you’ve been part of the past few days.”

Most people would openly avoid openly rolling their eyes. She was not most people. “Oh, you mean when I was busy playing the part of the gracious celebrity chef?”