When she pulled it out of the drawer, she saw she’d received a text from Rico. Not usual. Wincing, she told herself today was her day off, but she opened it anyway. The Spanish might have made his message feel more dramatic—Spanish was more dramatic than French, to her mind—but it would have knocked the air from her lungs regardless.

Hey Madison! I know Kyle is fighting the good fight, but Paris might not hold the career opportunities you’re looking for anymore. I had a call from Chef Joan Manuel Fort. He’s a good friend and has heard the news about Nanine’s. He is outraged, BTW. But he wanted me to ask if you’d consider being his head chef at his restaurant in Barcelona. The current chef hasn’t won a star after two years, and Joan is thinking about making a change. He thinks your bread-pairing idea would work at Los Cuatros Elementos. I know Barcelona was one of your bucket list cities. Give me a call.

Her jaw went slack.Los Cuatros Elementoswas some serious shit. The kind of restaurant where you could become a legend. She admired Chef Fort. He had thirteen Michelin stars across his empire. Meaning the Michelin people loved him.

She could win her star there.

Suddenly, she felt like she’d swallowed one of Spike’s play balls. Before Nanine’s, she would have leaped at this kind of offer. Now she didn’t know what to do. The fact that another big-time chef thought it was hopeless for her to win a star at Nanine’s was another nail in the coffin.

Kyle was working his ass off for nothing. He wasn’t going to change any hearts and minds. The entire industry knew it.

How could she not consider this offer, even if it meant leaving Paris and everything she loved?