Chapter Three
Ben stood in front of the mirror in the restaurant’s toilet, holding a comb as though any second now it might attack him. His hair refused to cooperate. One stubborn piece kept sticking up at an angle that screamed I have no idea what I’m doing.
He smoothed it down repeatedly, each attempt only making it worse.
“Christ,” he muttered. “It’s just a meeting. You’ve pitched billion-dollar mergers. You’ve survived boardroom bloodbaths. You can handle a handful of servers and cooks.”
One glance told him his reflection didn’t buy it.
He scanned the tiny room, looking for anything to subdue his unruly hair. There was only a small bottle of hand soap. Outside, he could already hear muffled voices, the clatter of pans, someone shrieking about a missing oat milk.
The restaurant’s heartbeat had started early.
He took one last look at himself, noting the pressed shirt, the sleeves rolled exactly two turns, the clean but slightly scuffed white sneakers, and the notebook peeking from his pocket.
Ready , he lied to himself.
Franco stood by the espresso machine, fiddling with the steam wand as if it was an electric guitar solo.
Lexie slumped over the counter next to him, her head buried in her arms. Mina was sprawled on a barstool, chewing on a croissant she’d half-stolen from the morning pastry prep.
Raj stood by the pass, sharpening a knife at a speed that suggested he might be imagining someone’s head instead of an onion.
Raj glanced at the others. “I was talking to Arun this morning about possible changes Ben might want to implement.”
Franco smirked. “And what did the hubby say?”
“He’s going to introduce a biometric fingerprint clock-in system,” Lexie blurted.
Mina brushed croissant crumbs from her blouse. “Nah, he’s going to ban staff meals and make us meal-prep quinoa salads.”
Raj snorted. “Arun said he’s going to install a second floor just for spreadsheets.”
Franco snickered. “My money is on him assigning KPIs to the basil and rosemary plants on the windowsill.”
Mina nearly choked on her croissant, Lexie gave Franco a thumbs-up, and Raj howled with laughter.
Franco felt as if he’d been hooked up to an espresso IV all night. His skin practically buzzed with anticipation.
He’s going to stand in front of us, all stiff posture and crisis energy, trying to wrangle us into shape.
Franco couldn’t decide if he wanted to watch or derail the whole thing.
Possibly both.
Willow burst through the door carrying a stack of clipboards she’d scavenged from God knows where. “Look alive, people. Chloe and Ollie just arrived, so that’s all of us.”
Raj peered at her. “Can Ollie walk in a straight line? ”
Willow snorted. “Almost, but don’t sit too close to him. The alcohol fumes might knock you out. Now, before Ben comes out of the toilet, we need to agree on something.”
“Is he still in there?” Franco asked. He snickered. “Maybe we need to decide if we’re all going to hide from him.”
Willow raised her gaze heavenward. “Yeah, great idea. How old are you, six? What I mean is, he’s Mr. Corporate. Do we think he has any experience in the hospitality industry? No, we do not. So I think it’s important we don’t sugarcoat anything. Drop him in at the deep end.”
Raj snorted. “Meeting all of us is going to be a defining moment, you know that, right? If he can cope with us, he can cope with anything.”
“Hold that thought.” Willow ducked out of the kitchen for a minute, then returned. “Okay. I just heard the toilet flush, so—”
Mina gaped. “You were hovering outside the toilet, listening to him pee ?”
Willow rolled her eyes. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. So let’s go out there and pretend we aren’t barn animals for once.”
Lexie groaned. “I like being a barn animal. Less paperwork.”
“I mean, show him what he has to work with. Move it, troop.”
Ollie and Chloe came into the kitchen, and Franco winced at Ollie’s bloodshot eyes. Why does he do this to himself? He reached into his pocket, removed his pack of mints, and tossed them to Ollie. “You might want these.”
Ollie mumbled his thanks.
Chloe tied her hair back with a scrunchie. “So? What’s he like?”
Franco grinned. “You’re about to find out.” He resisted the urge to check his reflection.
Ben’s gonna be too focused on his precious agenda to notice me anyway.
Except Franco kind of wanted Ben to notice, to look at him and forget his bullet points, if only for a second.
To really see him.
Ben grasped the door handle, doing his best to force air into his lungs. Voices rose and fell: laughter, a shriek of protest, a loud metallic clang .
He counted down from five.
Five: You’re in control.
Four: They’re just people.
Three: You’re not in a skyscraper.
Two: You chose this.
One: Oh God.
He opened the door and stepped into the dining room.
The empty dining room.
Ben groaned internally. Yeah, right, let’s put the boss off balance. As if his nerves weren’t shredded already.
He pulled out a chair at the nearest table and sat, placing his notebook in front of him.
His fingers tapped an uneven beat against the polished surface.
He tried to regulate his breathing. The air felt heavy, saturated with coffee, croissant crumbs, and the wild energy of too many personalities hiding out in the kitchen.
Franco was first out, which was no surprise at all, striding in as if he owned the place, or at least had just returned from winning a city-wide charisma contest. His grin alone could have powered the espresso machine.
“Good morning, Mr. Manager.” Franco held his arms wide as if he meant to hug Ben from across the room. “Ready to meet your new, vibrant, dysfunctional family?”
Ben opened his mouth, closed it again. He’d prepared for logistical pushback, but Franco’s gaze felt like a spotlight, and that grin?
Bewitching enough to make Ben forget half his carefully worded notes.
Raj entered next, silent and solid, his dark eyes sweeping the room with military precision. He gave Ben a curt nod that managed to convey both respect and a threat, before sliding into a seat next to Franco.
Mina bounded in behind him, a tornado in human form, clasping a half-eaten croissant. “Have I missed anything?” She nearly tripped over Franco’s foot and squeaked.
“Relax, goblin,” Lexie drawled as she took an empty chair. “Drama hasn’t started yet.” She folded her arms, her colourful tattoos covering every inch of skin from her wrists upwards, disappearing under the sleeves.
Drama ? Okay, that didn’t bode well.
Willow ushered out the last two, Ollie and a girl Ben hadn’t seen before, although he knew from his notes this had to be Chloe who worked a couple of days a week. Ollie held a glass filled with what looked like water.
At least, Ben hoped it was water.
“Hey, Ollie, why don’t you break the ice for us?” Franco suggested. “Maybe lead us in a rousing rendition of ‘I Will Survive’ again?”
“Only if you do the choreography this time,” Ollie shot back, resting his head on Lexie’s shoulder like an exhausted child.
Franco groaned dramatically. “My hips still haven’t recovered from the last staff party.”
“Just don’t let Franco choose the playlist,” Raj muttered. “Last time, we had three hours of French electro-pop and crying waiters.”
Ben rubbed his temples. He felt as though he’d been dropped into a travelling circus mid-performance.
Then he caught Franco’s gaze flicking to him, amused but searching.
What are you like when you’re not performing? Because it had to be a performance. No one could be this… electric all the time.
Willow cleared her throat and sat up straight, suddenly all faux-authority. “Okay, remember we’re pretending to be civilised humans today. Let’s all be nice to Mr. Business Man so he doesn’t combust.” She stared at him. “Ben, the floor is yours. ”
Ben swallowed hard, glancing at his notes. His throat tightened.
Here we go.
Franco’s stomach flipped like a pancake on a too-hot griddle.
Ben looked painfully clean, so crisp he might shatter if someone threw a tomato at him. His eyes scanned the room, wary, determined, maybe a little wild. Franco’s fingers twitched with the urge to loosen him up, to muss that perfectly combed hair, to kiss away that frown.
He settled for leaning back in his chair, watching.
Like a cat with a mouse, but hotter.
Ben coughed. “Good morning, everyone.”
The staff chorused back an unconvincing, “Morning,” as if they were in detention.
“Thank you for coming early. I know it’s not easy.
I… I’ve been observing the restaurant these past few days, and I wanted to share some thoughts and get on the same page.
” He paused, and Franco took advantage of the lull to fix his gaze on Ben, locked onto him like a tractor beam.
He watched the blush creep up Ben’s neck, impossibly pink against his collar.
God, he’s adorable.
He also looked as if he might bolt if someone so much as clapped too loudly.
Franco changed position, his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his clasped hands. Enough movement to make Ben’s gaze snap to him again.
Toying with the mouse was fun.
“Boss,” Franco drawled, keeping his voice low and smooth as caramel. “Are there going to be PowerPoint slides? Because I might need to caffeinate more aggressively if so.”
Ben made a strangled sound, half laugh, half gasp, and everyone burst into laughter. Even Raj cracked a reluctant grin .
Ben looked around, finally exhaling, his shoulders dropping a little.
Franco watched him carefully, warmth pooling in his chest.
This man. He might be made of spreadsheets and corporate ghosts, but there’s a pulse under there, a real person.
And Franco wanted to coax him out, inch by inch.
Ben took another breath.
“No slides,” he said, his voice steadier now, despite the ringing in his ears.
“Shame.” Franco pouted. “I was hoping for a laser pointer.”
Another wave of laughter swept through the dining room.
Ben shook his head, unable to rein back his smile.
Maybe this won’t be a bloodbath after all.