It's become a term of endearment between us. It's not a sign of his respect or admiration for the work I do. It's a prelude to a solid round of fucking followed by another.
"Why is Rolly getting a promotion?"
The drops him back into his chair. "What?"
"Maribel told me that Rolly is getting a promotion to senior chef too," I say softly tempering my frustration. "I'd like to know why I was passed up for that."
He exhales slowly. "I'm sorry you found that out from her. I wanted to tell you myself."
I narrow my eyes. "It wouldn't have hurt any less if you told me, Tyler. Rolly isn't as good as me. I'm a better chef than he is."
His eyes roam my face before they drop to my hands. They're resting on the table, laced together. My knuckles are white, my thumbs sore from the pressure of trying to restrain myself.
"Your confidence is one of the things I love about you, Cadence." He leans back in his chair. "You're one of the most talented young chefs working in this city today."
It's hard to absorb a compliment when you know it's followed by a 'but'.
"In my kitchen, there's much more to being a senior chef than being able to cook. I'm looking for people who can lead a team. Rolly has experience that you lack."
I thought that I could skirt around the holes in my resume by proving, through hard work and determination, that I'm qualified to lead an entire kitchen staff.
Youth isn't an ally in the restaurant industry in Manhattan. It doesn't matter that I've worked in professional kitchens longer than Rolly or that I've shown Tyler that I can lead by taking over when other chefs have bailed on their shifts. The promotion isn't mine.
"Did you even consider me for it?" I ask with my chin high. I'm proud of the work I do. I know I'm good. I don't need a title or an increase in pay to prove that. I just want to know whether Tyler ever saw me as a candidate.
His shoulders slump as he puffs out a heavy breath. "You need more time to work on establishing yourself as a force in the kitchen. I didn't have my first senior chef position until I was twenty-five."
If his words are meant to placate me, they're not doing their job. Reading between the lines tells me that my name never made it to the short-list. "You gave the job to Rolly because he's older than me. Is that what happened?"
"Rolly managed an entire kitchen before he came to Nova."
"He worked at a small diner, Tyler." I grab my phone when it pings again. "He managed a line cook and a dish washer."
"That's not the point, Cadence."
"It is the point." I drop my gaze back to my phone's screen expecting to see another message from Brendon, but it's not him.
It's Barbara, the producer from the morning show.
I read the message carefully, twice.
I've got exciting news to share, Chef Sutton. I'm about to make you an offer you can't refuse. Call me when you get this.
I glance at the time before I respond via text.
I can talk in 30? Does that work?
"Is everything all right?" Tyler cranes his neck forward to try and grab a view of my phone's screen. I cradle it in my hand, tilting it away from him.
I nod. "I think I'm going to take off soon. I want to crash early tonight."
I don’t look up but I can see him rise from his chair in my peripheral vision.
I'm on my way home. Can you stop by the studio tomorrow morning? I'll be there from 6 a.m. on.
I type a response as fast as my fingers will move.
I'll be there by 8. Have a good night, Barbara. I'm looking forward to talking.
"Cadence." He crouches next to me. "I don’t want what happens at Nova to come between us. I need you to understand why I promoted Maribel and Rolly."
I place my phone in my lap, screen side down. "If we weren't sleeping together would I have gotten a promotion?"
He pulls back to study my face. "Is that what you think this is? You think I held you back because we're fucking each other?"
My jaw sets. "I think that promoting your girlfriend would raise a lot of questions."
"I wouldn't give a fuck about any of those questions." He cups my chin in his palm. "I make decisions in my restaurant that I feel are best for the business. You're hesitant when you're in the kitchen. You question yourself too often still. You're not ready to be a senior chef. When you are, I'll move you up."
"When will that be?"
"When?" He looks away. "You're asking me when I'm going to promote you?"
"No." I pull back so his hand drops. "I'm asking when you think I'll be ready for more responsibility. I want to know when you believe I'll have enough experience to be considered for a promotion."
"Give it at least a year, Cadence. We can talk about whether you're ready then."
"A year," I say under my breath.
An entire fucking year?
"Let me hold you now, baby," he growls as his warm lips glide over my cheek. "I want you."
I turn to him, breathing in the scent of his skin. I stare into his eyes. If he's punishing me for being his lover, I can't fall back into bed with him tonight. I need to think. I need to breathe.