Page 28 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

“Rhett.” Clem’s voice was calm and steady. “It’s a plate.”

I turned to stare at her. “It’s a plate?”

“It’s a plate,” she repeated, her green eyes meeting mine without a trace of fear or intimidation. “Accidents happen. She didn’t drop it on purpose. We’re all doing our best. We’re all busting our asses. You dropped a spoon and no one freaked out on you.”

“That’s not the point⁠—”

“The point is you’re about to traumatize a twenty-year-old kid over something that can be fixed in five minutes,” she interrupted, her tone taking on an edge that surprised me. “And frankly, you’re being a dick about it.”

The entire kitchen had gone dead silent. I could feel every eye on us, waiting to see how I would respond to being called out by Desman’s daughter. Most people wouldn’t dare speak to me like that, especially not in front of my staff.

“I’m being a dick?” I repeated, my voice dangerously low.

“A massive one,” she confirmed, not backing down an inch. “Look at her, Rhett. She’s terrified. You’ve made your point about standards and consequences. Now maybe try some basic human decency.”

I glanced at Rose, who was still crouched on the floor trying to clean up the mess. She looked like she was about to cry.

Shit.

I took a deep breath. “Get back to work,” I said. “Leave it, Rose. Get the next plate. Refire the lamb.”

Everyone went right back to work.

I glared at Clem. “That will be the last time you are insubordinate in my kitchen.”

She looked properly afraid. “Yes, Chef,” she squeaked.