FULL NOVELXO Chapter 15
The moment Allie strides into Savor’s kitchen, it’s impossible not to notice her. She’s dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a jacket. She wears a pair of clunky black kitchen shoes on her feet.
God, she looks so fucking good. My cock stiffens at the sight of her, and I have to force myself to get a grip. There has to be a professional line, clear and non-negotiable. I’m the boss here, not some lovestruck fool. Mixing business with pleasure is not going to happen. She’s here to work, and my job is to lead, not to get tangled up in desire.
As she approaches, gratitude in her eyes as she once again thanks me for the opportunity, I decide to address the elephant in the room and tell her that I heard through the culinary grapevine about her untimely exit from Marco’s before she’d called to let me know she could start immediately and not in two weeks as we’d originally discussed.
I greet her before leading her into my office. ‘Listen, Allie,’ I say. ‘I understand the frustration of working under someone like Marco, but I need to make one thing crystal clear—the kind of confrontation you had with him won’t fly here.’
I pause, making sure she grasps the gravity of my statement. ‘I’m the owner and executive chef, and Savor is my domain. Respect and discipline will be maintained in the kitchen at all times. If you’re going to thrive here, you need to fall in line and follow my lead. Understand?’
She reacts with a mix of surprise and acknowledgment. ‘Of course, Chef. I have nothing but respect for what you’ve built here.’
‘Good,’ I say, nodding. ‘Your talent got you through the door, but it’s your performance that will determine whether or not you stay. You’ve got a lot to prove, not just to me but to everyone in this kitchen.’
She stands there stunned as I look for a spot for her. “Prep work.” I gesture to a pile of onions that need dicing. “You can start there. I’ll check in on you in a bit. Sarah will be around to answer any questions.”
“Of course, Chef,” she says.
With that, I stride to the other side of the kitchen.
Placing Allie’s workstation as far away from mine as possible wasn’t just a strategic move; it was a necessity. The closer she is, the harder it will be for me to concentrate.
I catch myself listening in as Sarah, our current sous chef who’s soon to be on maternity leave, starts to fill Allie in. Even from a distance, I feel Allie’s presence.
‘Remember, timing is everything here,’ Sarah explains, her voice carrying the weight of experience and the clarity of someone who’s navigated many a service under intense pressure.
Allie responds immediately. ‘What’s the best way to keep the line moving smoothly during a rush?” she asks. “Are there any specific signals or cues I should be aware of?’
Her question is smart, pinpointing one of the critical aspects of kitchen efficiency. Sarah offers a detailed explanation, but I find myself interjecting, unable to resist the opportunity to engage. ‘Eye contact and clear communication,’ I call out from my station across the room. ‘There’s no room for ambiguity when orders are piling up.’
Allie turns toward me and nods in acknowledgment. ‘Understood. And when it comes to plating, is there a standard presentation for each dish, or is there some room for creative interpretation?’
‘Always follow our standard,’ I reply, my tone leaving no room for doubt, ‘but creativity that enhances, not distracts, is always welcome. If you can first show me that you understand the dish, then you can try to make it yours.’
I turn back to my work but still listen while Allie and Sarah delve deeper into their culinary discussion.
‘In this kitchen, your ability to experiment while preserving the dish’s soul is what will distinguish you,’ I hear Sarah say.
“Gotcha,” Allie says, grateful and poised. ‘I’m here to absorb, contribute, and innovate where and when I can.’
Her exchange with Sarah confirms my instinct about her. She has a spark that will enhance our culinary approach. However, it’s her allure that’s more of a distraction.
Memories from our night together continue to invade my thoughts. The way her aura filled the room, the softness of her skin, and the look in her eyes—it all floods back, vivid and unsettling.
Suddenly, she laughs, which causes my hand to slip and nearly ruin the prep work in front of me.
‘Everything all right, Chef?’ one of the line cooks asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.
‘I’m fine,’ I retort, a bit more sharply than necessary, mentally berating myself for losing my focus during the rush of lunch service.
However, as the shift continues, I can’t help but let my gaze wander to Allie as she gets into the rhythm of our kitchen. Her movements are precise and confident, unlike the typical newcomer’s. She’s in her element—handling orders in coordination with the team and executing dishes with expertise. I’m impressed but also a little irked, given the internal conflict she stirs within me.
As the lunch service concludes and the kitchen transitions into dinner prep, I find a moment of quiet to consider Allie’s first day. Her performance was remarkable, and her impact was immediate. Despite the personal complications, she’s proven herself an indispensable part of the team already.
‘Chef, everything okay?’ asks the same line cook as before when he notices I’m lost in thought.
‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just focus on the prep for dinner service,’ I snap, redirecting my attention to the tasks at hand.
Later, I notice that Allie is getting ready to leave. She’s changed out of her chef’s coat and is dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, the same thing she was wearing the other night.
I catch up to her before she can leave to acknowledge her exemplary work. ‘You did a fine job today, Allie. You fit in better than I hoped,’ I say. “You keep this up; you might have a future here.”
She turns to face me, and before I can filter my thoughts, I find myself saying, “You look really good in jeans.” Then I catch myself. “I’m sorry. That was unprofessional.”
She flushes in embarrassment. ‘It’s all right, Chef. No harm done.’
For a moment longer than what professionalism dictates, our gazes lock, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that’s been simmering between us. It’s a moment fraught with the potential for more, a promise of what could be if not for the boundaries we both know we need to maintain.
Just then, Sarah interrupts us to say goodbye. ‘Great job today, Allie,’ she says, unaware of what was happening between us.
As I turn to respond to Sarah with a smile and a few parting words, Allie uses the opportunity to slip away, her departure a silent concession to the complexity of our situation. Watching her go, I can’t help but think it’s a smart move. The pull between us is undeniable and magnetic, and keeping a respectful distance feels increasingly like a Herculean effort, like the hardest—and best—thing to do.