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A tasting tray? Maybe this man wanted her to cater an event. She had no idea how she’d manage that without a proper kitchen, but Lola seemed to think this wasn’t a waste of time.
“How can I help you, Gabriel?” she asked, studying him as she sipped her tea. If she had to guess, she’d say the man was in his early to mid-fifties. Faint wrinkles lined his round face, and most of his black hair had gone gray. But with his trim waist and broad shoulders, he didn’t look old. Too old for her, but the term silver fox bounced around in her brain.
“Ms. Walker—may I call you Addison?”
She nodded.
“Addison,” he started again, plucking a flakey bite of chocolate croissant from the tray, “you have a true gift.” He popped the bite into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chewed. “Absolutely divine.”
Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Thank you.”
“I’m the head chef at a high-end resort called Fairford Manor, and I’ve felt for a while that our breakfast pastry and bread selections are lacking.” He chose a long, thin sliver from a raspberry babka, moaning softly as he chewed. Meeting her gaze as he swallowed, he said, “You may be exactly what we’re missing.”
“Wow,” she said, trying her best not to sound too excited. Playing hard to get might result in a better offer. “Thank you. It really means a lot to me that you like my food.”
Addison’s head spun. Could this be real? This might be the answer to all her problems.
Then it hit her—he’d called this place a resort, not a hotel. Which meant it definitely wasn’t in New York City. The excitement left her like air leaking out of a balloon. “Where is Fairford Manor exactly?”
He ate a small bite of a cream puff before answering. “It’s in northern Vermont, about six hours from here.”
Throwing on her best customer service smile, Addison held out her hand. “Thank you very much for your interest, but I don’t intend to leave the city.”
Gabriel looked down at her outstretched hand for a solid five seconds, and then chose part of an orange cranberry muffin from the tray. “I’d appreciate you at least listening to my offer.”
Flattening her lips into a tight line, she let her hand fall to her lap. “I don’t think?—”
“I was speaking to Lola just now,” he interrupted, pulling a pen from an inside pocket of his jacket and taking the topmost cocktail napkin. “She told me the café is closing in a week, and you haven’t yet found a new job.”
“I’m not moving to Vermont,” Addison insisted, crossing her arms over her stomach. She didn’t have time for entitled men who didn’t know the meaning of the word no. She had shit to do.
Gabriel scribbled on the cocktail napkin as he spoke—an obvious attempt to bait her. She refused to look down at it out of principle. “She also mentioned you have thirty days to find a new place to live,” he said.
Heat flashed across the surface of her skin, and she knew she was blushing from head to toe. “Lola had no business telling anyone about that.” She hated the catch in her voice. “Least of all a perfect stranger.”
“I’m not a perfect stranger.” He said it with such a plain, matter-of-fact tone, she sifted through her memories, trying to figure out when they might have met. “Though I’ll admit I’ve never met you or Lola before today.”
She pressed her lips back into that tight, unamused line. “If there’s another definition for stranger, I’ve never heard it.”
Gabriel chuckled, which only made the anger flare up in her even more. “I’m starting to think they were wrong.” His bright blue eyes danced with mirth. “You don’t seem to have a submissive bone in your body.”
“Excuse me?” Addison stood so abruptly her chair toppled back onto the tile floor. Her hands curled into tight fists at her sides. “I don’t know what the fuck this is, but I want you out of my kitchen. Now.”
Her anger didn’t seem to bother him in the least. Putting the pen back in his pocket, he picked up his tea, watching her over the rim of the ceramic mug as he took a long, slow sip. After returning it to its spot on the table, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I’m here as a favor to Sophie and Leo. As I said, perhaps they were mistaken.”
Confusion took over until there wasn’t any room left for her fury. “Sophie and Leo?” Her gaze darted toward the dining room. Those were the names of the gorgeous, rich couple sitting right on the other side of that door. “What do they have to do with this?”
“They’re partial owners of the resort where I work.” He folded the napkin he wrote on in half, and then in half again. “When Lola told them she was closing the café, they asked me to come down and try your food. See if you’d be a good fit.”
Good God, this conversation was like being on a carnival ride, spinning so fast you can’t see or think straight anymore. “What does that have to do with whether or not I’m—” Heat flooded her face, but she refused to let this man render her too embarrassed to speak in her own damn kitchen. Squaring her shoulders, she forced out, “Submissive.”
“Leo and Sophie saw you at Luciana’s Lair a few months ago, though they don’t believe you saw them. That led them to think you’d fit right in at the Manor, and since you’re now in need of both a job and a new place to live...” He let the sentence trail off, watching her with a placid expression.
Addison’s mouth hung open. Luciana’s Lair was a famous BDSM club in midtown. They had a whole team of Doms and Dommes who could give you almost any kind of bondage or punishment scene you were willing to pay for. She’d been going there every month or two for almost seven years now—the one extravagance she allowed for in her budget. Ever since her last Dom told her she worked too much and found someone with more free time, she needed to take the edge off somehow. At least dropping a couple hundred bucks for an hour of pain was cheaper than retail therapy.
Never in a million years would she have suspected Sophie and Leo were also customers.
“Do you, perhaps, wish to deny any association with Luciana’s Lair?” Gabriel asked, his pursed lips not quite hiding his amused smile.
