A Reaction

Emma~

Tears of anger threaten to escape long before I get to the kitchen, and I slam the door so hard behind me that I hear the glasses on the shelves rattle beside me in fear of breaking. It doesn’t matter though, I got away and now I have space to think and reflect on what the hell just happened.

Somehow I’ve managed to attract the attention of a notorious crime boss, to the point where he felt the need to interrupt a dinner party in order to bark orders at me. The nerve of that man.

I’ve never met him before in my life, and yet he thinks that he can tell me to sit like I’m some sort of dog. Well, he’s got another thing coming, and I know my father will defend me. I just hope he doesn’t go too far if the rumors of what Orion’s done are to be believed.

Oh no, now I can’t stop thinking about all of the things I know that he’s done, and fear starts to rise up in me. Should I go back there to try and soothe it over? Prevent my father from having to stand against him?

What could I do though? I’m just a cook, and speaking of which, I still have a job to do. The crème brulée will be set by now, and I need to complete my final touch if there is to be any dessert at all. Plus, I suppose setting fire to things might lighten my mood a bit, call it cathartic.

I walk over to the fridge, wiping my eyes as I go, and the shift in focus really helps to calm my breathing back to a semi-normal pace. Good, I’m doing better, keep going. I mentally chant to myself and refuse to let my mind wander back to my fears of what might happen upstairs.

It’ll be time to serve again soon enough, and then I can reassure myself that my family are okay.

The trays filled with the glass ramekins are on the bottom shelf, and I can already tell from a first glance that they have turned out perfect. It’s good to know that some things remain predictable, and I find my face actually smiling as I slowly remove them.

Grabbing the bag of sugar and kitchen blow torch, I set myself up on the stainless steel worktops and get to work. Sprinkle, melt, sprinkle, melt. The repetition is relaxing, and spreading an equal layer of sugar is like second nature to me now. Even if the company is less than desirable, nobody will have a bad thing to say about the food if I can help it.

***

When done, I wish that I had made an extra one just so that I could do a crack test. It’s not because I’m worried, but because it’s the most satisfying feeling in the world, and I’ve loved to crack the caramel ever since I was a child. I eye one of them, heart filled with temptation, but am snapped out of it far too suddenly.

Looking up at the sound of shuffling feet, all of the calmness I’ve cultivated vanishes, and I feel my heart threatening to leave my chest. It’s crazy how quickly I have shifted from one state to another, and thankfully, it’s just Abbey and the others coming to bring back the trolley.

None of them make eye contact with me, and I don’t know if it’s because I spoke disrespectfully to Orion, or if said villain has been running his mouth as a result. I hope for the former but expect the latter when I let them take the trays from me.

It makes me wonder if the journey back up there really is such a good idea. I mean, if something had gone down with my father, they’d have told me by now, right? What good would my presence do now?

“Will you be okay to handle this without me? I want to get a head start on the cleaning,” I ask, even though we all know that I’m lying, but nobody calls me on it. They only nod and make their way to the elevator without so much as a word.

Now that I’m alone, the back door calls to me, and I open it up before sitting myself on the top step. The air in here is suffocating, and I just want to take a few seconds to breathe, nothing more and nothing less.

In. Out. In. Out.

The last dish has been served, and my work is done. I never have to see that man again if I don’t want to, and who knows, maybe the dessert will be so good that everyone forgets our interaction?

Fat chance, I know, but there’s still hope.

I just can’t believe that it happened in the first place. I mean, yes, the second I saw him, I almost dropped the damn plate that I was holding, but I’d like to think that while the reaction was over the top, I recovered well enough when I realized who he was.

He, on the other hand, has no excuse. I mean, all he saw was me, I’m nobody with no such reputation. There’s no reason on earth for him to have spared me a second glance, and if he acted like any other man, we’d not be in this mess.

I still don’t know why he’s here either. Why he invited himself to our home and has set everyone on edge. The second he leaves can’t come soon enough, in my opinion.

But my thoughts on the matter are interrupted by another set of footsteps. I should have expected as much, and I’m only glad that I recognize it to be someone I know.

“You're wanted upstairs... Emma,” Derek hesitates when saying my name, as if unsure of how to address me.

I scrunch my brows at him in question. We’ve always had a friendly relationship, even if he hasn’t relaxed around me completely with who my father is and his status in this family. But this is new, and I can’t say I’m a fan.

Much like my feelings towards heading back to that room, but what choice do I have? None. The answer is none.

“Lead the way.”