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It isn’t. It follows you and grows, spreading its tentacles everywhere.
It didn’t seem to matter before Angus and I really knew each other. But now I’ve worked for him for four years.
He’ll be furious if he finds out that I lied to him all this time.
GoddamnSullivan for putting me in this position—forcing me to hide my lie with more lies…
My stomach lurches.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not going to do it.”
“Why not?”
“Think of everyone I’ll have to lie to! It’s not just my boss, it’s Martinique and vendors and investors and every single other person we bump into—Angus is probably already telling people.”
Sullivan shrugs. “So what. It’s a game, Theo—it’s all a game of power.”
“I don’t play games.”
Sullivan steps closer, trapping me in the tiny niche of draping vines and potted ferns, his broad frame plugging the exit like a cork in a bottle. The leaves tickle my arms, and so does his breath, swirling across my bare skin as he pins me with his gaze.
“But you already are, Theo…because you’re born into this one. All of us are born into the game of power. You can close your eyes, you can refuse to learn the rules, but everyone around you is playing. And they will destroy you.”
My heart hammers my ribs. I feel like I’m in a debate with the devil for my soul.
“Think about it, Theo,” Sullivan says, and I still can’t repress a shiver every time he says my name. “Your boss is abillionaire.He makes more money inthree minutesthan your salaryfor the entire year. Think how indispensable you are to him. Why doesn’t he pay you two hundred or three hundred thousand? To him, that would be less than pocket change. It’d be thirteen minutes of his earnings. To completely change your life.”
My stomach does another slow roll.
“I’ll tell you why he doesn’t do it…” Sullivan’s dark eyes swallow mine. “It’s because thenyou wouldn’t needhim.Let me guess, you get about seventy-two thousand?”
“Sixty-eight,” I whisper.
“Just enough for you to survive in LA without ever saving enough to quit.”
Sullivan’s words are steel chains draping my limbs. Cold, crushing, and inescapable…because they’re true.
“He has you right where he wants you.” Sullivan won’t stop pressing; he keeps me locked in that dark stare. “You weren’t even supposed to be an assistant. You applied to be his personal chef. How many meals have you made lately?”
I lick my lips. “How do you know all this?”
“I do my research,” he says seriously. “You should, too. Angus is big on promises, short on delivery.”
I already know that.
Angus has made me a lot of promises over the years. One in particular that’s beginning to feel like a bright, shiny lure continually yanked away.
Before I can stop myself, I admit, “He said he’d help me open a restaurant.”
I didn’t even ask. Angus just promised it once after I cooked him the most incredible wagyu eggs benedict.
But that was two years ago.
And now, I barely have time to do any cooking at all.
“First business lesson.” Sullivan holds up his index finger. “Negotiate the terms up front and get it in writing.” He points his finger at my chest like he’s shooting me. “That’s why Angus hasn’t staked your restaurant, and he never will.”
His words hit like a bullet.
