AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, Chef!” everyone shouts back as Lance struts in and grabs a sanitizing towel without washing his hands and moves to clean a mess that should’ve already been addressed.
“Lance,” I snap, halting him before he can contaminate the kitchen. “The office. Now. Mia.”
The beta is beside me in an instant. “Yes, Chef?”
“Maintain post.”
Checking the time, she starts ordering the staff around like a seasoned sous chef. She may be a porter, but she’s been working at The Crystal Chandelier for eleven years. She can probably run the line better than I can, and she’s the only one I fully trust not to mess it up. Everyone else excels in the position, but managing several stations at one time takes organization and the ability tomanage others without worrying what they might think about your tone.
In the kitchen, there’s no time forpleaseandthank you. The job gets done, and on a good night, we all have a glass of $900 wine on the house.
Lance tosses the rag back into the sanitizing bucket. I nod at Yosef, who simply nods and grabs the tainted water, heading to start a new one. Sweeping my gaze around the kitchen, I check that everything is under control before following Lance into the office. I shut the door behind me and turn to face him.
The clock on the wall ticks and I take a breath. Marquis, the hardass chef de cuisine, still hasn’t put up any decorations. A simple glass-top desk, a thirty-inch monitor, an ergonomic keyboard, and a leather-back chair came with his position. The walls are a simple gray. The only personalization is a dark-stained wall clock with a shiny pendulum. The incessant tick, tick, tick, makes my skin crawl.
Lance cocks an eyebrow. “What’s up, Chef?”
“You weren’t at your station.”
He makes a face. “It was five minutes. No one died, and I was about to clean up the cold prep table.”
“It should’ve been cleaned right away, but you weren’t there.”
“Maybe Trey shouldn’t be so messy.” Lance shrugs. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
Marquis would’ve fired him on the spot. I’m not the head chef. I try to at least give people a chance, but Lance isn’t making that easy. “What are the three most important things for a kitchen to run smoothly?”
Lance scoffs. “Come on, man. Are you really going to make me recite this shit, like I’m in elementary school?”
“Say it,” I demand, using my alpha bark to make him heel.
His spine straightens, but his eyes narrow, hating being controlled. “Preparation, cooking, cleaning.”
“And what’s your job?”
“Cleaning,” he says between clenched teeth.
I nod and step toward him. “Did you wash your hands when you came in?”
The hate burning in his gaze is misdirected. Lance may think I’m the problem, but he’s too self-centered to realize he’s getting in his own way. “No.”
Stopping a foot away from him, I glare right back, not at all intimidated by the scrawny beta with a chip on his shoulder. “You’re on floor cleanup for the rest of the night. Mia can sub for you.”
“Are you seriously going to put me on mop duty? It was one mistake!”
I clench my fists and narrow my gaze. “It was one mistake,Chef.” The emphasis on my position might make me an asshole, but there’s a hierarchy for a reason. Marquis got The Crystal Chandelier a Michelin star. That didn’t happen with insolent little shits like Lance in the kitchen. “Get your things and get out of my sight.”
The second it dawns on him that he’s fired, his entire demeanor shifts. Eyes widening and face draining of color, Lance begs for mercy, only digging himself into a deeper hole. I passed over two dozen applicants when I hired him. Someone else will happily take his position.
I turn to leave but he grabs my arm. “This isn’t fair, Chef!”
A decade of repressed emotion simmers inside of me. My eyes find his fingers clutching at my bicep, and I slowly find the hand, the forearm, the biceps and shoulder, then the face of the beta who has the audacity to act like getting fired for his own goddamn actions isn’t fair. My chest trembles, and I lower all my walls, letting every ounce of pain and anger and hate I’ve buried ever since Brady dragged me from that burning car roll over me.
This motherfucker doesn’t know anything about what’s not fair.
Finally, my gaze meets Lance’s and he blanches, releasing my arm and taking a quick step away. “Sorry, Chef.”
“Get. Out.” I manage to keep my fists clenched, barely repressing my urge to rip his head from his body.
