Chapter 6
CLEMENTINE
Oops.
The single word bounced around my skull like a pinball as I watched Rhett’s expression transform from concerned listener to something far more dangerous. Those dark eyes had flashed with rage. It made my stomach drop to somewhere around my ankles.
I should have kept my mouth shut. What had possessed me to spill my humiliating encounter with Hwan to this man? Now Rhett looked like he was preparing to march onto a battlefield.
“Wait,” I called out, but he moved with long, purposeful strides that ate up the distance to the restaurant’s back entrance.
I scrambled after him. My heels clicked frantically against the pavement as I tried to keep up.
God, he was tall. And those shoulders were so wide.
Even in my current state of panic, I couldn’t help but admire the view of his back as we moved from the cool darkness of the evening into the harsh fluorescent glare of Salt & Mercy’s kitchen.
I had to practically jog to match his pace. My dress rode up my thighs with each awkward stride. This was not how I envisioned spending the most important night in my father’s restaurant’s history. I was chasing after a man I barely knew as he stormed off to confront a celebrity chef on my behalf.
My father’s friend. That was still the part that I was hung up on. Shame on Hwan. He was my father’s friend and he had propositioned me.
The kitchen was still humming with post-service energy. Servers weaved between stations, carrying the last remnants of dinner service out to guests who were lingering over dessert and coffee. I hoped for his sake Hwan was in the dining room. If he was in public, Rhett wouldn’t do anything.
That was bullshit. Rhett didn’t give a shit about that kind of thing. I didn’t know the guy, but I could just tell he was the kind of man that did what he wanted when he wanted.
My stomach dropped when I spotted Hwan near the pass window. He had loosened his chef jacket and was holding court with two young female servers who were hanging on his every word. One of them kept touching his arm and giggling at whatever story he was telling about the evening’s menu.
My stomach clenched as I watched the scene unfold. Was this his usual routine? Find impressionable young women in the industry and charm them with his expertise and celebrity status? How many others had received similar “mentoring” offers?
What a dick.
Rhett didn’t pause to announce himself or clear his throat politely. He simply walked up behind Hwan and placed a hand on his shoulder. The gesture looked casual and friendly but carried an unmistakable weight of authority.
Even from where I stood, I could tell Rhett was gripping his shoulder and not just resting his hand there.
“Hwan,” Rhett said, his voice carrying that same controlled calm I had noticed earlier. It wasn’t loud. It had an edge that made the hair on my arms stand up. I had a feeling the man rarely raised his voice. He didn’t need to. That cold steel tone would be enough. “We need to talk.”
The effect was immediate. The two servers scattered like startled birds, suddenly finding urgent tasks that required their attention elsewhere in the kitchen. Hwan turned around, his face initially brightening with the kind of networking smile he had perfected over years of schmoozing food critics.
“Rhett! What a fantastic evening. Did you—”
“Outside,” Rhett interrupted, his tone leaving no room for discussion.
Hwan’s expression shifted as he registered the coldness in Rhett’s voice. A blind man could see Rhett’s posture screamed barely contained aggression. The chef’s eyes flicked to me, then back to Rhett, and I saw the exact moment he realized what this confrontation was about.
“I think there might be some misunderstanding here,” Hwan began, his voice taking on that reasonable, let’s-all-be-adults tone that men used when they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t.
“No misunderstanding,” Rhett cut him off. “Outside. Now.”
The kitchen around us had gone eerily quiet.
Even the dish washers had stopped their clatter to watch the unfolding drama.
I could feel eyes on us from every corner of the room.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment. This was so not the place for whatever testosterone-fueled showdown was about to happen.
“Guys,” I said, stepping forward and trying to inject some calm into the situation. “Maybe we could discuss this somewhere more private? The evening has been so successful, and—”
“Stay put, Clementine,” Rhett said without taking his eyes off Hwan.
What on earth was happening? Two grown men squaring off over me like I was some kind of prize to be won or territory to be defended? It was ridiculous and medieval and completely inappropriate for a professional kitchen full of my father’s employees.
And yet some traitorous part of me was absolutely thrilled by it.
Hwan seemed to realize he had no choice but to comply with Rhett’s demand. He nodded stiffly, his earlier charm evaporating as he headed toward the back exit. Rhett followed close behind. I trailed after them both, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Rhett, it’s fine,” I whispered to his back.
He ignored me. I wasn’t even sure he heard me.
The transition back to the cool night air felt jarring after the heated tension of the kitchen. But if I hoped the change of scenery might diffuse the situation, I was quickly disappointed. If anything, Rhett seemed more dangerous out here, away from the potential audience of restaurant staff.
It really was too bad Hwan had not made his way back to the dining room. With witnesses.
Rhett positioned himself slightly between Hwan and me. It was such a subtle gesture I almost missed it, but once I noticed it, I couldn’t unsee it. Everything about his body language screamed protection and possession in equal measure.
And hot damn, I was going to have a damn orgasm just watching him defend me. I was never the poor little damsel in distress, but shit, if it looked anything like me, I was good with distressed.
“Let’s be very clear about something,” Rhett began, his voice that same deadly calm. “Clementine is not some appetizer you can sample at the end of your evening. She’s Desman’s daughter, she’s a professional trying to learn this business, and she deserves to be treated with basic human decency.”
Hwan held up his hands in a gesture of wounded innocence that fooled absolutely no one present. “I think you’re overreacting here. Clem and I were just having a friendly conversation about her career aspirations—”
“A friendly conversation that ended with you giving her your hotel room key?” Rhett’s voice dropped even lower. A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the night air.
The chef’s face flushed, a mottled red that was visible even in the dim light from the restaurant’s back exit. “She misunderstood my intentions—”
“Did she?” Rhett took a step closer. Hwan seemed to shrink under the other man’s intensity. “Did she also misunderstand when you told her she was sexy? When you offered to go over industry advice thoroughly in your hotel room?”
I wanted to disappear into the ground. Hearing my humiliating encounter repeated back in Rhett’s coldly furious tone made it sound even worse than it had felt in the moment.
“Look,” Hwan said, his practiced charm finally beginning to crack around the edges. “She’s a beautiful young woman, and I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” Rhett interrupted, moving close enough that Hwan had to tilt his head back slightly to maintain eye contact.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to finish out this evening like the professional you claim to be.
You’re going to stay away from Clementine for the rest of the night.
Hell, for the rest of your life. And if I hear even a whisper of you pulling this predatory bullshit with another young woman in this industry, I will personally make sure your reputation doesn’t survive the conversation. ”
The threat hung between them like a live wire, crackling with barely contained violence.
I could see Hwan weighing his options, probably calculating whether Rhett actually had the connections and influence to make good on his promise.
Whatever conclusion he reached, it clearly wasn’t in Hwan’s favor.
“This is completely out of line,” Hwan muttered, but there was no real fight left in his voice. “I was trying to help her career, offer some guidance—”
“By offering to fuck her?” The crude words were shocking. I gasped softly at both the language and the blunt accuracy of it.
Because that was exactly what Hwan had been offering, wasn’t it? Sex disguised as professional mentorship, with just enough plausible deniability that he could claim misunderstanding if called out on it. If I willingly went to his hotel room, he could say I knew exactly what the invitation was.
Hwan’s face went deeper red. A vein pulsed visibly at his temple. “You have no right—”
“I have every right,” Rhett said. “Someone needs to tell you that your behavior is unacceptable, and apparently, that someone is me.”
They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds.
Some kind of alpha male standoff that made me simultaneously uncomfortable and oddly fascinated.
There was something primal about it, something that spoke to some deep, evolutionary part of my brain that I wasn’t entirely comfortable acknowledging.
Finally, Hwan looked away, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “Fine. Message received.”
“Good,” Rhett said, though his posture remained coiled and ready for trouble. “Now go back inside and enjoy the rest of your evening. From a respectful distance.”
Hwan stalked back toward the kitchen entrance, his earlier swagger replaced by the hunched shoulders of a man whose pride had taken a serious beating. I watched him go, then turned to find Rhett studying me with those intense dark eyes.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentler now that the immediate threat had been neutralized.
I nodded, not entirely trusting my voice. The protective energy radiating from him had thrown me completely off balance. I’d never had anyone defend me like that before. I prided myself on always handling my own problems. I believed myself to be strong and independent and never needed rescuing.
And God help me, I kind of liked being rescued. At least by him.
“Come on,” he said, placing a hand on the small of my back to guide me toward the restaurant entrance. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
The main dining room was loud. The band Dad hired was playing something smooth and sultry, couples swayed on the small dance floor.
The bar was serving top-shelf liquor to guests who weren’t ready for the evening to end.
I caught sight of Dad across the room, deep in conversation with some potential donors.
Rhett led me to his table. “This is Simone and Conroy,” he said by way of introduction.
The two of them were involved in a heated debate. They barely glanced up as we approached, too caught up in their argument to notice our return.
“I’m telling you, it was cardamom,” Conroy said. “That mysterious little something in the lamb that made it so distinctive.”
“Cardamom?” Simone scoffed, her expression suggesting he’d just claimed the earth was flat. “Conroy, your palate is completely shot. It was clearly coriander seed, maybe with a touch of fennel.”
“You’re both wrong,” Rhett said calmly as he pulled out my chair with old-fashioned courtesy that made my heart skip. “It was saffron.”
Both Simone and Conroy turned to stare at him.
“He’s right,” I confirmed, settling into my chair and trying to ignore the way Rhett’s fingers brushed my shoulder as he pushed it in. “The chef used saffron in the spice rub.”
Rhett picked up his wine glass and took a slow, appreciative sip, his lips curving in the slightest suggestion of a smirk that made my stomach do unexpected gymnastics.
“Of course I am,” he said simply.
Here was a man who was used to being right, used to being in control, used to getting exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. The thought should have been intimidating. Instead, I was thinking about him naked.