Chapter Ten #3
“Is that the problem? That you were not consulted?” Bastian typed in the entry code to the front door himself and walked in.
Kian shut the door behind him harder than he needed to.
Forcing himself not to jump at the sudden bang that echoed through the house, Bastian set his keys and wallet on the counter and walked over to his wine rack.
Picking out a nice pinot noir, he opened the bottle with careful, slow movements and poured himself a glass.
Didn’t pour one for Kian because he hadn’t asked, and Bastian wasn’t feeling particularly generous at the moment.
The whole time, Kian kept up a long monologue about why Bastian had fucked him over.
“There are a lot of problems with this. First, your fucking overbearing motives. You put me in charge of the kitchen, but then you keep interfering, you hire new staff without even asking, without even letting me interview them first. You always think you know what’s best for everyone, like a chess master setting out his pieces, and it fucking pisses me off.
And then, you had to hire him.” Kian said the word like it was bitter and poisonous, and Bastian tuned back in.
Maybe he would finally hear what the real issue behind Mark’s hire was.
Other than that you did it without his permission and without even asking him, Bastian’s guilty conscience proclaimed loudly and very clearly.
“What is your issue with Mark?” Bastian asked and was more than a little proud of how even his voice was. Some of what Kian had said stung, but it was also true, so he tried to let it go. “I know you went to school with him.”
“He’s a fucking suck-up, piece-of-shit, copycat asshole,” Kian said bitterly.
“Two years ago he wanted in my pants, probably to try to steal anything he could to get ahead of me. He would have, but he didn’t even realize I was smarter than he was and could figure out what he wanted in a second flat.
He’s a snake, plain and simple, and I don’t want him in my kitchen. ”
Bastian took a long sip of wine. “My kitchen,” he corrected softly, firmly.
Kian flushed a bright shade of puce. He didn’t say anything else.
“I’m sorry you don’t like him,” Bastian finally said.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get along before. I’m sorry he was shitty to you in school.
I certainly hope that he thinks better of trying to get in your pants now—because he’ll find that I do not like to share.
But based on his performance tonight, I do think he could earn his place at Terroir.
I want you to give him the chance to do that. ”
“Why?” Kian asked, and he sounded even angrier now than he had ranting about Mark.
“Because sometimes we don’t personally like someone but they’re good enough at what they do that we tolerate their shittiness as a person. And also because sometimes we’re an idiot at eighteen, but we grow up,” Bastian said. “He did good work. He has good references. Let’s give him a chance.”
Kian frowned. “He was just on good behavior tonight because you were there.”
“And tomorrow, and during subsequent evenings, you will be there. As chef de cuisine, you are my representative. It’s up to you to make sure he stays in line. If he doesn’t, then you know what to do with him.”
Kian’s face grew harder around the edges than Bastian had ever seen it before. “Yes,” he said shortly, “I take out the trash.”
“Eventually, yes. If he proves that he can’t handle Terroir.” He tipped the wine in Kian’s direction. “Would you like some?”
“I really want to hate you right now,” Kian grumbled, and instead of answering, Bastian pulled out another glass and poured, generously. Kian had earned this wine today, though Bastian wasn’t going to be the one to tell him that.
“But you don’t,” Bastian said, smiling.
Kian smiled, thawing a little. “I really don’t, even when I do. How does that work?”
“God, I wish I knew,” Bastian said, and reached for him. “I am sorry that I didn’t consult you ahead of time. But I can’t say that if I had, and you’d told me all that, I wouldn’t have hired him anyway.”
“Because he had good references and did well tonight?” Kian slipped out of his grasp, eyeing Bastian coolly over his glass of wine.
“Yes,” Bastian said honestly. If he couldn’t be honest, this relationship would never get off the ground. Just because they loved each other didn’t mean that they could truly accept each other, and if Kian couldn’t accept that he’d do anything for Terroir to succeed, then this wasn’t going to work.
“So, that thing you said when you gave me this job,” Kian said steadily, “you meant that.”
“Did you want me to give you a free pass on Mark, and get to do whatever you wanted with him just because we’re sleeping together?” Bastian questioned. “Because I had the impression that you wanted to keep Terroir at Terroir and sex at home.”
“I do.” Kian looked very unsure all of a sudden. “I was going to say, I wanted you to trust me, but then I realized that trust has to go both ways, doesn’t it? You want me to trust you, here.”
“While I’m trusting you with Terroir, which is the most precious thing in the world to me.
” Almost the most precious, Bastian mentally corrected.
He still hadn’t returned Kian’s three little words from the emergency room, but then Kian had yet to say them while not on drugs.
They were still figuring all of this out.
It was too soon to tell Kian that he’d become just about as important to him as the restaurant and the career he’d built from scratch with blood and lots and lots of sweat.
“Oh,” Kian said, and his eyes lit up, like he suddenly understood. “Oh.”
This time Kian was the one who moved closer to Bastian, reaching up and putting a hand on his neck, his shoulders. “Sweetheart, we’re figuring this out. I don’t know how the fuck to do this,” Bastian confessed quietly. “I don’t know how to love you and love my restaurant.”
Well, maybe he was doing this right now.
Kian’s mouth formed a small o of surprise. “You love me?”
“Did you ever doubt that I did?” Bastian stroked up and down Kian’s arms, bare as he was wearing just a t-shirt he’d thrown on after service.
“Noooooo, not exactly,” Kian hesitated. “Maybe a little bit. Tonight.”
Bastian had felt the doubt, the coldness radiating from him, and maybe that was why he’d finally let those words slip out. His subconscious had known better than he did just how thin the ice they were walking on was.
“I wanted to make the words more special,” Bastian confessed.
“I always want to do right by you. Even when you think I’m fucking up, I’m still trying to do right by you.
I didn’t think there was anyone at Terroir who deserved to be your sous and I went looking for one. For you. Only for you. All for you.”
Kian’s lip trembled. “You love me that much?”
“More,” Bastian chuckled, leaning down to brush a kiss on his lips. “So much more. If I loved you less, I could have resisted you. If I had loved you less, I wouldn’t have ever hired you to begin with. Less is not really a problem here, trust me.”
Kian melted into the kiss, and for a second, Bastian let himself be consumed by the fire that blazed between them. He was still shocked by how hot they always burned, and how quickly it always seemed to burn out of control.
But it was Kian who broke away, panting. “I do trust you. I do.” He hesitated, and Bastian’s heart became a manic thing, pumping away wildly as he watched Kian wet his bottom lip. “I meant what I said, when I told you in the hospital. I love you too. I’ve loved you for a long time.”
Bastian’s heart was still thumping hard as he pulled Kian flush against him. Somehow, he was still too far away, still not as close as Bastian needed him to be. “Mon cher, I’ve loved you for far too long,” he murmured against Kian’s lips, “I need a shower. Join me and let me show you how long.”