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I need away from her. Being this near to Kira Clark while she pretends to like me is not healthy. Not when I haven’t allowed these kinds of thoughts into my head for a long period but clearly, I am losing it because my mouth opens, and I say, “Is that why you asked me to fuck you all night long that evening? He was that bad?”
Kira’s breath hitches for a tiny beat. My words catching her off-guard. Hmm, that’s a first. I think I like this.
Steven’s face turns a beautiful saffron-red color while his nostrils flare out like the bull he is. “What the fuck, Kira? You were sleeping with both of us?”
“No, she was test-driving, and clearly you didn’t pass the test. Now, save yourself from further embarrassment and leave. My. Damn. Kitchen.” With each word, my tone rises a decibel until I am nothing short of howling. “And woman,” I add, remembering why we started this whole show-and-tell in the first place.
I better be getting a sweet Christmas bonus for this.
Without another word, Steven storms out of the kitchen, trying to slam the doors on his way out, but it doesn’t work sincethey have a soft closing, swing system. Instead, he looks even more ridiculous than he did before trying to push them shut.
“What are you all staring at?” Kira’s stern voice pulls me away from the show as the kitchen fills with its usual noise of chopping, slicing, searing, and grilling.
It’s a bit late for that, if you ask me. They just had a front-row view to this spectacle, but everyone is trying to avert their curious gazes from us, clearly desperate to know if what just happened was real or a lie, and that, I am not looking forward to.
I didn’t even think about the repercussions of this show, but now I will have to explain what I don’t even know myself to my staff. Fucking fantastic.
I exhale a tired breath and am about to go back to work when that now familiar hand clasped around my wrist, pulling me away. “I need to get back to work, Chef.” I try to pull on my professional face once again.
“You will do as I say. Was I not clear enough earlier?” She doesn’t even spare me a glance while she walks me into her office like a toddler who just missed his potty and peed in his pants instead.
Sometimes, I really wonder if the money is worth the humiliation she puts me through daily…
But then I remember the hospice bills waiting for me at home, and Sophie’s tuition payment that will be due any day. Not to mention rent, food, and other daily necessities.
And my unhealthy obsession that we will not talk about…
Yeah, humiliation it is.
I’ve been to Kira’s office plenty of times, but I still remember the very first time. I remember walking into this tiny heaven and thinking I found a kindred soul. Ha, I was a hilarious and very naïve man back then, but any aspiring chef who would see this would fall in love instantly.
Kira’s office is located down the hallway, but it’s not your regular desk and chair setup. No, this woman turned a two-hundred-square-foot space into a cutting-edge personal kitchen. Yes, you heard it right. This is the place where the magic happens, where Kira tests out new ideas and creates mouthwatering dishes to add to any one of her menus across all of the restaurants she owns, so in this space, she has all the equipment you can imagine.
From prep tables to convention ovens to sous vide machines to shock freezers to a million molecular kitchen ingredients and gadgets.
Her furniture and equipment were made specifically for her, designed to fit each corner and crevice. It’s not in regular stainless-steel colors either. No, Kira had everything made of copper—like her hair, and black—like her soul. She doesn’t have any windows in here because that would be a waste of space.
Who needs to see the outside world when you hate it as much as she does…
She shuts the door behind me and motions for me to sit at her tiny desk in the corner. Kira doesn’t sit behind her desk, no, she steps in between my open thighs and perches her mouthwatering ass on top of her desk. The suits she wears never do a thing to hide it from anyone. Especially me.
I gulp. I fucking gulp because only a blind man would not want this siren. Even with all the barbs sticking out from every corner. She is my boss. I really, really dislike her, but I am still a man. One with needs and an aching cock in my pants.
“Have you seen Madagascar?” she asks out of nowhere, and it takes me a second to process the question.
“The cartoon?” I ask, a bit unsure because there is no way my Ursula knows what a cartoon even is, but she just keeps glaring at me, so I take that as a yes and nod myself. “Yeah.”
“Great. Then, from now on, your job description also includes smiling and waving whenever we are around people.” My brows draw together, confusion bleeding through my every pore.
“I am so confused right now.”
“You will be my boyfriend,” Kira states, looking straight at me while my eyes quickly snap up to hers at the sound of that statement.
“I’m sorry, what?” My forehead creases further because, surely, I heard her wrong. The whole boyfriend routine was all for a few seconds of showdown in the kitchen, and it was not real.
“Levidis, don’t piss me off,” she snarls at me, those green eyes turning witchy hazel.
“I’m not trying to, Chef,” I say, trying to bring back the boundaries I like very much. The ones I need where she is concerned.
