Chapter 12
CLEMENTINE
Relief flooded through me when I spotted the familiar faces across the VIP lounge.
Rhett, Simone, and Conroy were seated at a corner table that looked like they were in the middle of an intense business discussion.
I considered walking away, pretending I didn’t see them, but we were all going to the same place. They were basically my coworkers now.
And honestly I was a nervous flyer. Seeing familiar faces felt like a gift.
Dad wasn’t coming on the tour, which meant I was on my own.
Dad was holding down the fort in New York.
He couldn’t just up and leave Mom alone with Henry, especially with football scouts coming to watch him play over the next few weeks.
Henry’s future was riding on these games, and Dad needed to be there for the family.
We had talked the night before, and he had been clear about what this opportunity meant for me and my future. The tour could be the break I needed.
That was assuming I didn’t irritate the hell out of Rhett and he didn’t send me packing. Or put me on prep duties. He might kick me out of the kitchen. I had to remember to keep my mouth shut.
My dad’s voice echoed through my mind. “After what you did at La Tavola, I’m putting you in Conroy’s shoes. If we have to do damage control after? I will. But I believe in you.”
The weight of that trust meant a lot. I wanted to prove I belonged in their world. That I wasn’t just Desman Hartley’s daughter riding on family connections.
I took a deep breath and wheeled my suitcase toward their table.
Simone looked up first, her face breaking into a genuine smile. “Clementine! What a lovely surprise.”
“Hi,” I said, suddenly feeling awkward. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
“Not at all,” Simone said, gesturing to an empty chair. “Please, join us. We were just going over the tour logistics.”
Conroy gave me a friendly wave with his good arm. “Hey, Clem. Good to see you again.”
But Rhett? He looked like I’d just crashed his private funeral. His dark eyes flicked over me with something that might have been annoyance before returning to whatever was on Simone’s tablet screen.
The guy was such an asshole. His personality changes were hard to keep up with. Asshole. Knight in shining armor. Loving son. Back to asshole.
“So you’re coming on the tour?” Simone asked as I settled into the chair.
“Apparently,” I said, glancing at Rhett’s rigid profile. “Dad thought it would be good experience. And with Conroy unable to help, he thought I could step in.”
“We are so glad you are here,” Simone said. “Though I have to ask—are you prepared for what this entails? The pace is going to be brutal. Different city every few days, new kitchens, new teams, media pressure.”
“I can handle it,” I said, though my stomach fluttered with nerves.
Rhett finally looked at me. His expression was so dark it gave nothing away. “Can you?”
The dismissive tone in his voice made my spine straighten. How dare he question my ability after I already showed him I could keep up?
He wasn’t going to intimidate me. If I was going to work with men like him, I couldn’t let him bully me.
“Yes. I can.”
“We’ll see,” he said flatly, already turning his attention back to the tablet.
Conroy raised his good arm in a mock toast with his coffee cup. “Welcome to the big leagues, kid. Try not to let this one scare you off.” He nodded toward Rhett.
Last night, we worked together like a well-oiled machine. There had been moments in that kitchen when I felt like we were operating on the same wavelength, anticipating each other’s needs with an almost telepathic connection. Now he was treating me like I was invisible.
“Miami’s venue is completely different from La Tavola,” Simone continued, either not noticing or choosing to ignore the tension. “Much bigger space, more formal dining room, different style of service. You’ll need to adapt quickly.”
“We’ll be serving two to three times the number of people,” Rhett said without looking at me.
“I can handle it,” I said, trying to project more confidence than I felt.
Rhett finally looked up from his phone, his dark eyes meeting mine with an expression that was decidedly cold. “Time will tell.”
The dismissive tone pissed me off. What was his problem?
He was acting like I was some kind of burden he had been forced to tolerate. I understood a lot of people believed I was the product of nepotism. But Rhett didn’t have a lot of room to talk. His mother might not be as successful as my father, but he was still born into the business.
“Do you want some coffee?” Conroy asked.
At least he had manners.
“No thank you. I’m already jumpy. And I don’t want to have to pee. You know coffee dehydrates you.”
Rhett was staring at me. I couldn’t believe I just said that out loud.
“And that’s why I don’t need coffee,” I muttered under my breath.
“Boarding for Flight 447 to Miami will begin in ten minutes,” came the announcement over the lounge’s speakers.
Saved by the loudspeaker.
We gathered our things and made our way to the gate. Simone was talking about the Miami restaurant and its celebrity chef owner while Conroy offered commentary about the city’s food scene. Rhett remained silent, checking his phone and responding to messages like the rest of us weren’t even there.
As we lined up to board, I had enough of his attitude. I reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him aside from the boarding line.
“What’s your problem?” I asked, not bothering to keep my voice down.
His eyebrows shot up, clearly not expecting the confrontation. “Excuse me?”
“You can’t treat me like this for the next three weeks,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady despite the anger bubbling up in my chest. “It’s not my fault that Conroy got hit by that cyclist. It’s not my fault that your perfectly planned tour got derailed on the first night.
Conroy is obviously a talented chef but he’s not the only one that can chop veggies.
Or make flavorful sauce. I’ve proven I can do it.
Quit treating me like I’m some child that’s been thrust on you.
Shit happened. I’m here. Deal with it. It’s not my fault things went sideways.
You’re a chef. You should know shit happens all the time.
You would think you were used to things going sideways. ”
His expression darkened. “I never said it was your fault.”
“Then stop acting like it. You can either pout like a toddler because things didn’t go according to your precious schedule, or you can let me step up and do my best to help salvage this situation.” I crossed my arms, meeting his glare head on. “Maybe I’ll even surprise you.”
For a moment, we just stared at each other. I could see something behind those dark eyes. Was it respect? There was a hint of that guy I saw out on the bench.
But then his mask slipped back into place.
“Fine,” he said curtly. “But don’t expect me to hold your hand through every service.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I shot back.
We boarded without saying another word to one another.
I was grateful when I discovered that our first-class seats weren’t together.
Rhett was across the aisle, while I was seated next to an elderly businessman who immediately put on noise-canceling headphones and closed his eyes. That was code for don’t talk to me.
Perfect. I could have my nervous breakdown in relative privacy.
As the plane began taxiing toward the runway, all my bravado from the confrontation with Rhett evaporated.
My palms started sweating, my heart rate picked up, and I found myself gripping the armrests hard enough that my knuckles went white.
Flying had always terrified me. There was just something about being trapped in a metal tube hurtling through the sky at hundreds of miles per hour while having absolutely no control over the situation that unnerved me.
My grandmother always said if God wanted her to fly, he would have given her wings.
I absolutely agreed with that sentiment.
I wasn’t going to get into the physics of it all, but it just didn’t seem possible for a massive hunk of metal and steel to fly. How did it defy gravity?
The engines roared to life as we gained speed down the runway. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to remember the breathing exercises Mom had taught me for managing anxiety. In for four counts, hold for four, out for four. Repeat until the panic subsided.
Except it wasn’t subsiding. If anything, the sensation of leaving the ground made everything worse. My stomach dropped as we climbed, and I could feel that familiar cold sweat breaking out across my forehead.
“I thought you were good under pressure,” came a voice from beside me.
I opened my eyes to find Rhett across the aisle, looking at me with an expression that might have been amusement. Of course he would notice my pathetic display of terror.
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to meet his gaze despite the fact that we were still climbing and every instinct in my body was screaming that we were all going to die. “Different kind of pressure.”
“Apparently.”
The casual dismissal in his tone made something snap inside me. Here I was, having what was probably a full-blown panic attack, and he was using it as another opportunity to make me feel small and inadequate.
Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play this game, so be it.
I had six restaurants and three weeks to prove myself. Six opportunities to show him and everyone else that I wasn’t just some lucky amateur who’d gotten in over her head. Six chances to make a name for myself in an industry that ate people alive if they weren’t strong enough to fight back.
Rhett Voss thought I was just a scared little girl who couldn’t handle the pressure? He was about to learn exactly how wrong he was.
Step aside for prodigy Clementine Hartley.
The plane leveled out, and I forced myself to relax my grip on the armrests. My heart was still hammering, but now it was as much from determination as fear. I had work to do, skills to prove, and a reputation to build.
I was going to start in Miami.
The seatbelt sign dinged off. My heartbeat started to slow and my muscles unclenched. I watched as passengers around me immediately unbuckled and pulled out laptops and tablets.
But I kept my seatbelt firmly fastened. I told myself it was just being cautious. Turbulence could happen at any moment, right? The flight attendants always said to keep your seatbelt on when seated. I was just being a responsible passenger.
The truth was, I felt safer with it on. Like that thin strip of fabric could somehow protect me from the fact that we were currently suspended thirty thousand feet above the ground in what was essentially a flying tin can.
“You planning to stay strapped in for the entire flight?”
I looked over to find Rhett watching me with those dark eyes.
He had reclined his seat and looked completely relaxed, like flying was as natural to him as breathing.
His long legs were stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, hands folded behind his head.
He looked like he was lounging in his own living room.
“Why does it concern you?” I shot back.
He smirked. “It doesn’t. You do you, little Clementine.”
I rolled my eyes. “As if I would do anyone else.”
That earned an eyebrow raise.
Shit.
Did he think I was referring to sex?
Of course he did and that was why he smirked again before winking at me.
It was going to be a long tour.