2. New Job

Madison

It's been a week since I fled from my ex-boyfriend Gustaf and moved in with my brother Stanley. He owns a large flat, and I was given the guestroom. It's not the largest room, but I'm more than grateful for my brother's hospitality.

Stanley is helpful, perhaps a little too helpful since he is already trying to get me hired by Victor Giovanni. There is no secret that our childhood friend is the wealthiest man in the city, and not only does he own hotels, but he also owns the restaurants associated with them. Since I'm a brilliant chef, my brother wants me to work at one of them.

"Hold on. Are you being serious right now? Do you really think that I can handle filling in for Victor's head chef at his famous restaurant?" I ask my brother in disbelief. I'm extremely skeptical about this assignment.

"Well, you needed a job, right? This is your chance to prove yourself. Victor is understaffed and desperate, Mads. He would take anyone, but since you're talented, you might have a chance of becoming hired." Stanley says while putting on his shoes. "And you honestly got nothing to lose."

"That is true..." I mumble, giving it some serious thought. I am a talented chef, and it would feel great to earn more own salary so I could pay half of Stanley's rent. I feel like a complete and utter leech right now.

"So, what do you think? Do you want me to drive you there? We don't have to tell Victor that it's you working in his kitchen. That way, his judgment will be non-biased."

"And he won't wonder who the fuck I am?"

"Of course, he will, but not before he has tasted your food since he doesn't respect a chef before discovering they are talented," Stanley laughs. "And it's not like I haven't taken in new talents before. Victor trusts me and just asked me to find someone who can cook tonight since Elena called in sick again. She is the sous-chef, but Victor secretly wants to fire her since she often calls in sick."

"I see..." I tap my chin. While the thought of working for Victor frightens me, I know he pays his chefs extremely well. The man is wealthy, and I'm desperate for a job. All I have to do is swallow my pride. "Well, I don't see the harm in giving it a try. Perhaps this could be my new future job?"

An hour later, I'm standing in a cramped elevator space together with a bunch of people I assume work in Victor's luxurious three-star restaurant.

They all look nervous, but I can't tell why. Sweat is glistening on their foreheads, and there is a tension that I don't quite understand. It worsens when the doors open on the first floor and a man that smells like leather and warm pears enters the elevator. He is tall and muscular, and my eyes widen.

Is this Victor?

He looks so grown-up and shamelessly handsome. Completely different from the last time I saw him. His eyes are still endlessly blue under two thick eyebrows that are set in a hard line. His mouth is full, surrounded by a well-trimmed beard, but his expression isn't happy.

My heart rate picks up. I bet looking at Victor for too long could put physical scars on your eyes. He is that beautiful. But it doesn't go unnoticed that everyone inside the elevator seems scared of the big man.

"Good evening, everyone. I hope you're all ready to work hard tonight," Victor says, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the elevator. "Elena called in sick again, so we are all going to have to pull our weight."

His voice is deep and commanding, and I can feel his gaze linger on me for a moment longer than necessary. My heart races as he steps closer, boxing me into the corner, his warm, spicy scent enveloping me.

"Who are you?" he asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling very small and insignificant in his presence. It's obvious that Victor doesn't recognize me, and I wish to keep it that way.

"I'm n-new," I stammer. "Stanley recommended me for the sous-chef position tonight."

Victor gives me a once-over, his eyes tracing the lines of my body. There is a predatory gleam in his eyes that makes me shiver, but I stand my ground, refusing to back down.

"Do you live in the city?"

It's obvious that I don't impress him. "Yes, sir."

"So you can come in on short notice?"

I nod and repeat my answer. "Yes, sir."

"Well, we will see if you're cut out for the job," he says finally, turning to face the doors.

The elevator dings and Victor strides out of the elevator, the rest of us following behind him like a pack of scared lambs. We enter the kitchen, where the frantic energy is palpable. Pots and pans clang together, and a dozen people seem to be shouting orders at each other.

Victor stops in front of a large kitchen island and looks around, his eyes squinting as he takes in the chaos. "Elena was in charge of the appetizers tonight," he says, his voice cutting through the noise. "Who is going to take over for her?"

A few hands shoot up, and Victor nods at a tall man with a shaved head. "You're in charge now. Get the kitchen under control."

The man nods and rushes off, barking orders at the rest of the staff. Victor turns to me, his eyes raking over my face. I can feel my cheeks flush under his scrutiny.

"You're with me," he says, grabbing an apron. "You better not disappoint me."

"Yes, sir."

I take a deep breath, my hands shaking as I tie the apron around my waist. The kitchen is hot and chaotic, but I try to stay calm and focused. Victor moves around the kitchen with deadly precision, his movements fluid and confident.

He hands me a tray of raw seafood and gestures for me to follow him. We move to a large prep table, where Victor begins to show me how to clean and prepare the seafood properly.

His movements are quick and efficient, and I can't help but be impressed by his skill. He effortlessly fillets a fish, tossing the bones and scraps into a nearby bin.

"Have you ever worked in a kitchen before?" Victor asks, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.

I nod, feeling a little self-conscious. "I worked at a few different restaurants, but nothing like this."

Victor snorts, shaking his head. "This isn't just any restaurant. This is the best restaurant in the city. We don't tolerate mistakes. Everything needs to be cooked and created with perfection in mind, and there needs to be heart in every single dish. Even the salad."

I nod, understanding that Victor is a perfectionist and he expects nothing but the best from his chefs.

"I completely understand," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you truly understand, or are you just saying that?" Victor moves closer to me, his chest almost brushing against mine. I can feel the heat emanating from him, and my heart starts racing again.

Victor was pretty in the past, but now he is devastatingly so. He looks like an angel ready to hand out judgment in front of the gates of heaven, and goosebumps prickle over my skin. It doesn't help the situation that he is so tall that I have to crane my head to meet his uncompromising eyes.

He is one scary, beautiful bastard.

"I'm not just saying that Victor—ehm, I mean sir!"

His lips twitch as if he is amused. "Did you just call me Victor?"

"I didn't mean to, sir!"

He looks as if he is holding back a laugh. "Good catch."

I blush. "Thank you."

"I don't expect you to slip with your tongue again."

"I won't, sir."

"Good, because I don't appreciate it when my staff calls me by my first name. It's unprofessional, and I've fired people for less."

My face burns even brighter. "I apologize, sir. It won't happen again."

Satisfied with my answer, he smiles, but it's wolfish and lacks any sort of warmth.

"You must be a talented chef since Stanley recommended you," he says, his voice low and husky. "But talent isn't enough to make it in this kitchen. You need to have passion, heart, and a willingness to push yourself to your limits."

I nod, feeling a strange pull toward Victor. He is intimidating, but there is something about him that draws me in, something primal and raw.

"I will try my hardest not to disappoint you, sir."

"Good. Let's get to work," he says, handing me a sharp knife. "We have a long night ahead of us. The restaurant is bustling with people."

For the next few hours, we work in silence, chopping, slicing, and sautéing our way through the orders. The kitchen is a hectic workplace, but the night is soon over.

We have fed over a hundred guests, and the kitchen is finally quiet. Victor has been hard on me, watching my every move with a critical eye, but I have managed to meet his expectations.

I take off my apron and follow Victor as he walks out of the kitchen, his tall figure leading me through the restaurant. The staff is bustling around us, cleaning up and preparing for the next day.

As we walk, I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. I have proven myself to be a capable chef, and I can see that Victor has taken notice.

"Good job tonight," he says, his voice softening slightly. "You have potential."

I feel a rush of pride, knowing that Victor has recognized my hard work. "Thank you," I say, smiling up at him. "I appreciate it."

Victor nods, his eyes lingering on my face for a moment longer than necessary. "I could use someone like you in my kitchen," he says in a thoughtful voice. "What is your name?"

Is this when I reveal my name and that we actually know each other?

I hesitate for a moment, the warm, delicious scent of Victor's cologne enveloping me. It's obvious that he doesn't recognize me, and a part of me wants to keep it that way. But at the same time, I know that I can't keep this a secret forever.

"It's Madison," I say, meeting his gaze head-on.

Victor's eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks stunned. "Madison?" he repeats as if trying to place me. "That's the name of Stanley's little sister and my childhood friend."

I shrug, playing dumb. "It's a pretty common name."

Recognition dawns in Victor's eyes, and for a moment, it looks like he is about to choke. His jaw drops to the floor, and an awkward silence settles between us before Victor slumps his shoulders and croaks. "Maddie?"