Chapter 21

‘Oops, sorry for the interruption,’ I quip as I halt mid-step, realizing I’ve just barged into what looks like a high-stakes meeting.

The two men with Patrick, oozing a vibe that’s part GQ and part Godfather, give me a quick once-over.

Patrick, ever the cool captain of his ship, stands up smoothly. ‘No worries, Allie. Why don’t you join us for a moment?’ His invitation is all the reassurance I need to stride over, even though I feel wildly underdressed in my chef’s gear. “Gentlemen, this is my newest sous chef, Allie Tucker.”

As I approach, the older gentleman, introduced as Luca, stands up. Chivalry isn’t dead, it seems, or maybe it’s just good manners for show. ‘Ms. Tucker, a pleasure to meet you,’ he says, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, though his eyes are calculating.

Next, I’m introduced to Luca’s son, Donnie. He’s another story altogether. When we shake hands, he holds on a tad too long, his eyes doing a not-so-subtle up-and-down glance over my body that stops noticeably south of my face. I extract my hand with a swift tug, plastering on a smile that’s more a bared-teeth warning than a friendly greeting.

Patrick jumps in like a pro, smoothing over the awkward edges. ‘Allie here is one of our top chefs at Savor,’ he tells them, his pride in my work clear in his voice.

Luca perks up. ‘Then we must owe much of tonight’s exceptional dinner to Ms. Tucker?’ His tone is appreciative but curt, as if he’s used to getting more than just good food out of his conversations.

‘That’s right,’ Patrick confirms, giving me a quick, supportive look that says he’s in my corner, no matter what high-rolling guests we have.

Donnie, meanwhile, has gone quiet, but his gaze is still stuck on me like some kind of unwelcome sauce. I decide to keep the conversation strictly culinary.

‘I hope everything was to your satisfaction,’ I say, aiming for cheerful professionalism.

‘Absolutely delightful, thank you,’ Luca responds; his smile widens just a bit as he settles back into his chair.

‘Anyway, I figured we should all get acquainted since Allie will be assisting me next Tuesday,’ Patrick explains, his tone professional. ‘She’ll be a key part of the evening’s food.’

Luca nods approvingly, his eyes assessing me but politely, while Donnie’s eyes continue to linger a little too long, making my skin crawl. Patrick goes on to mention the names of the waitstaff that will be present, outlining the plan with the precision of a general.

As agreements are made and hands are shaken, Luca takes Patrick aside for a moment to go over one more detail. That’s when the air shifts. The moment Luca is out of earshot, Donnie leans in, his voice dropping to a murmur that’s meant to be charming but just comes off as sleazy.

‘You know, you really shouldn’t hide such a pretty face back in the kitchen all night,’ Donnie says, his breath giving off a whiff of wine. He winks as if we’re sharing some private joke instead of him making an utterly inappropriate comment.

I stiffen, my smile fixed but my eyes cold. ‘I think I serve the guests best from the kitchen,’ I retort, my tone light but edged with steel. ‘That’s where the magic happens, after all.’

Patrick, catching the tail end of the exchange, frowns slightly, his gaze flicking between us.

‘Allie is excellent at her job,’ he adds; there’s a subtle undercurrent of warning in his voice that suggests he’s not blind to Donnie’s behavior.

Donnie laughs, a hollow sound that feels forced. ‘Just a suggestion,’ he says, leaning back in his chair, the picture of nonchalance. ‘It’s always nice to see beautiful talent showcased, isn’t it?’

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, instead turning to Patrick with a look that I hope communicates my irritation without words. Patrick nods slightly, an unspoken understanding passing between us.

Luca returns then, his timing impeccable, and the atmosphere shifts back to business. Handshakes are exchanged once more, this time signaling the end of the meeting. As the men prepare to leave, I step back, allowing Patrick to escort them out, my relief palpable.

I make a beeline back to the sanctuary of the kitchen. The taste of Donnie’s sleazy comments still lingers unpleasantly, like garlic on the breath. He was absolutely scummy, and his leering was gross. It left me feeling uneasy and with a creeping sense of dread.

As I enter, the kitchen feels empty and unusually quiet. The bustling energy from earlier has dissipated. I start chopping onions for tomorrow’s prep, but really, I’m just trying to banish the discomfort I feel from that meeting.

Moments later, Patrick storms back in, his face set in a hard line that I know all too well means trouble. He’s definitely not happy, and something tells me it’s not about the food cost or a missed delivery.

‘What’s up?’ I ask, setting down my knife. ‘You look like you just smelled rotten eggs.’

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘I didn’t like how Donnie was looking at you. It was out of line,’ he states, his voice low and tense.

‘Yeah, he gave me the creeps. I didn’t like it one bit either,’ I reply, glad that we’re on the same page but still feeling creeped out by the encounter.

Patrick’s frown deepens, and he suggests, ‘Maybe we should use one of the other sous chefs next Tuesday. I don’t want that guy anywhere near you.’

I shake my head, not willing to let Donnie’s sleaziness sideline me. ‘No. It’ll be fun to run the show, just the two of us,’ I insist with a forced cheerfulness, trying to lighten the mood. ‘After all, we don’t need the whole cavalry for just a handful of VIPs. We can handle it, and I’m not about to let that jerk scare me off.’

Patrick studies me for a long moment, his eyes searching. Finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. ‘All right. We’ll do it together then,’ he agrees, a smile finally breaking through the anger. ‘But I’m keeping an eye on things. No one messes with my team.’

Grateful for his support but determined not to let this shake me, I pick up my knife again, a renewed vigor in my slicing. ‘Let’s show them how we do it at Savor. Nothing and no one is going to spoil our evening.’

Patrick chuckles, the tension easing between us. ‘That’s the spirit,’ he says.

Patrick looks contemplative, which means he’s turning things over in his mind, planning out strategies like he’s about to revamp the entire menu. Seeing him this way, I can’t help but close the distance between us. I wrap my arms around his waist from behind, leaning my head against his back.

‘Hey,’ I murmur, my voice muffled slightly by his chef’s jacket. ‘You don’t need to worry about a guy like Donnie. He couldn’t catch my interest if he were the last man on earth with a recipe for eternal youth.’

He turns in my embrace, his hands finding my shoulders as he looks down into my eyes. There’s a softness there that makes my heart race just a bit faster. Then, without a word, he bends down and kisses me—a sweet, affirming kiss that speaks volumes.

But the kiss is short-lived as he pulls away, his eyes searching mine, serious yet full of something more tender. ‘Would you like to stay with me for the next few days? Caleb’s out of town,’ he says, his voice hopeful.

The offer hangs in the air, tempting and full of possibilities. Part of me lights up at the thought of waking up next to him without sneaking around, of not having to say goodnight at the door. But I can’t help but think of Caleb. This thing between Patrick and me is deepening, moving past the casual into something neither of us can ignore much longer. The question of telling Caleb about us looms large. And I still haven’t found the right time and place to tell Patrick I’m pregnant.

I meet his gaze, seeing the same desire mirrored in his eyes that’s swirling inside me. ‘I’d like that,’ I say, my voice steady despite the butterflies dancing in my stomach.