Tyler.
I stare at him as he nears. He told me that I was the most talented junior chef working at Nova yet Maribel and Rolly are the ones he handed the promotions to. That means better hours and more money for both of them.
"Do you want to take off, Cadence?" His eyes cut to mine. "I'm cooking dinner for us tonight."
"For us?" Mirabel jokes as she loops her arm through Tyler's. "What's on the menu, Chef?"
I exhale on an unsteady breath. "That's a great idea. You should join us, Maribel. We can keep the celebration going."
"I'll grab a bottle of champagne on my way over." She glances over at me. "Are you going home to change first, Cadence? If you are we can ride to Tyler's together in a taxi."
Tyler's gaze is locked on my face. I sense it before I turn to confirm it. He arches his brows in a silent question. He wants to know why the fuck I'm inviting Mirabel to our dinner date.
We're even since I want to know why the hell I was passed over twice for a senior chef position. I can accept the fact that he saw Mirabel as more qualified than me. I'd argue the point, and even challenge her to a cook-off if I thought it would do any good.
I know that Tyler views her as mature and experienced. I get that.
Rolly is a completely different story.
I'm better than him.
He fucks up on an almost daily basis.
His concept of flavors is skewed. Darrell is constantly on his ass about that.
"We'll all get together another evening, Maribel." Tyler points a finger at me. "Cadence and I have plans after dinner. You understand, don't you?"
Her eyes volley from his face to mine before disappointment settles over her expression. "I'll celebrate with my family. They're all pumped that I'm a senior chef."
"They must be very proud of you," I say tightly. "You deserve it, Maribel. You've worked hard for it."
Without warning, her arms are around me, pulling me into her chest. "That means a lot coming from you, Den. Thank you for being so supportive."
***
"You're pissed that Maribel was bumped up to senior chef, aren't you?"
It doesn't take a mind reader to figure that one out. He's basing it on the fact that I haven't said more than two words to him the entire time I've been at his place. I haven't had to. He's talked my ear off about his plans for the new location.
Tyler's energized in a way I haven't seen before. I'd join in on the fun if I didn't have Rolly's name etching a path of fury in the base of my brain.
Rolly? I still don't fucking understand how Rolly leapfrogged over me to land a senior chef job.
"You wouldn't have given her the job if she didn't deserve it."
His face snaps up. He stares at me. "Is that sarcasm or do you really feel that way?"
It's both. It's a little of both or it's a lot of sarcasm and a sliver of honesty.
"Maribel works hard," I say evenly. "She's been at Nova longer than I have."
"That's the main reason why I gave the position to her." He reaches across the table to cover my hand with his. "I may have joked about it, but when I found out there was a possibility that she was going to leave Nova, I panicked. I want her to finish out her career in my kitchen. She's too valuable an employee to lose."
I stare at our hands. His is much larger than mine. It's stronger, more experienced in every way. "She'll stay loyal until the day she retires. The promotion guarantees that."
"That's exactly how I viewed the situation." He scoops my hand into his. "I've missed us like this. I want to fuck you, Cadence."
Slow your roll, Chef. Slow. Your. Roll.
"We just ate." Technically, he just ate. I picked at the pork loin he prepared for us. I lost my appetite earlier when I realized that I'll have to answer to Rolly even though he doesn't know the difference between parsley and cilantro.
My phone chimes. It's a reprieve from this. An escape from the mounting anger that's threatened to consume me since I got here. I bought myself some time to change my clothes and quell my frustration when I told him back at Nova that I needed to shower before dinner.
I stripped off the jeans and blouse I was wearing earlier and threw on a blue wrap dress before I spent the next thirty minutes pacing a line in my apartment.
I yank my hand free of his and pull my phone toward me just as it chimes again. I drop my eyes to the screen, faintly aware that Tyler is staring at me in silence.
I read the only new message. It's from Brendon.
Hey. 1 of our senior chefs quit yesterday. Let's talk about the job. No strings. I need a good chef and UR it.
Irony, with all its bittersweet tones, has never been this tempting.
CHAPTER 18
Tyler pushes his hands against the edge of the table as the feet of the wooden chair he's sitting in graze along the floor. It's an irritating noise that grates at me.
He stands, his hand outstretched toward me. "Come to my bed with me, Chef."
Chef.