14. Chapter Fourteen #2
If Parker hadn’t come along to help them, their first few months would have been a nightmare.
Now he’s in the way, and that makes everything harder for everyone, especially given his popularity.
It’s always a popularity contest here. But there are ways around Parker’s protection, loopholes.
If he weren’t Vviveren’s darling, I think there would be more violence involved.
“I do. I think it’s a little creepy that all these men seem concerned with the fate of three sisters. You know I hate initiations.”
That’s the downside of popularity. Now that there are more eyes on them, they’re valuable. And with their sweet blood, they’re pieces in a world that craves to take and conquer. These people care very little about what Emma and her sisters would like to do with their own blood.
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. You never went through initiation.”
“Why would I give anyone the opportunity to humiliate me and use it for their personal gain?” I move him off the counter. “In here, it’s about cooking. If I see you messing with her, I’ll have you removed permanently.”
He scoffs, biting his cheek and sizing me up. I don’t care if he hits me. As my grandfather says, “Gentlemen don’t fight with fists. We fight with money.” Luther knows if he lays a hand on me, I can take just about anything away from him.
“Want to see if I’m joking?”
“Nah, you don’t joke, boss. I get your message loud and clear.”
“Good. Now, fuck off. I want you to participate today, and you’re behind.”
“Yes, Chef.” He saunters back to his station with his shoulders rolled forward.
I stand at the back of the room to observe. What the fuck am I doing? There’s no winning either way. Helping Emma puts a target on her back, and not helping leaves her defenseless. Both feel wrong. Why am I doing this to myself?
I’m not sure how she manages to make it through the day.
She’s an inch away from danger and destruction every other minute, but she moves through it with ease.
Not easily frustrated, and surprisingly, not easily distracted either.
She wants to be here for the right reasons.
Her muscle memory shows in the way she holds her knife and measures her ingredients.
It’s fluid. But talent doesn’t mean you get everything you want.
I need to crush her. It has to be done. She never stood a chance anyway, with her hopeful optimism, glitter under her eyes, and bright, shining smile. There’s no glitter today, but it’s still all over her in spirit. She’s glimmering as she hums, laser-focused.
I tune into prepping my station and let all the emotion drain from me.
That’s how he taught me. Be numb. Shut it out.
Work. Work till your fingers bleed. This place .
. . These people will hurt her, and she’ll cry and blame herself, and it’s not my problem.
Emma has never been my problem, and yet I keep putting myself in a position where I make her my problem.
Let her fail.
Let her cry.
Who cares?
She’s just one girl.
“Don’t dream, Dacre. Just do.”
It doesn’t matter what I want. I need to show her.
When I make my rounds again, I stop just behind her shoulder, ignoring that prickle of calm from her scent.
“You’re sloppy. Do it again. I want five hundred. Start from the beginning.”
“What? The beginning?” Her eyes widen. “This is my first time making pasta.”
“I know. I can tell.”
She blinks, sucking in a breath.
“All I want to hear is a ‘Yes, Chef.’ I don’t have use for people who can’t follow directions.”
Verity snickers next to her, while Luther watches from a few feet away. This is better. I can’t have him or anyone in the club think I’m showing favoritism. What happened at initiation changes nothing—making her hate me is easy. Now, making her hate cooking shouldn’t be that much harder.
“Yes, Chef.”
She recovers quickly as she rolls out another ball of dough and starts to cut squares for the ravioli.
This time, I stand over her while I watch her hands work. Those beautiful, delicate hands.
“You’re making me nervous.”
“Good. How can you expect to work with people in a kitchen if you’re not being monitored?”
“Well, when I imagine it, I’m in charge . . . Chef.”
My own insidious laughter echoes between us.
“Yeah? And who do you think wants to work under someone who can’t successfully shape pasta dough? Someone who doesn’t care about putting in work, taking shortcuts? Then again, you know all about that, don’t you, thief?”
She can’t hide the bunching of her brows or the nervous way she switches her feet.
“I don’t think you should be able to call me that here, Chef.”
“Why does that name bother you so much? Is it because you know you did a bad thing? That, instead of working for those recipes, you stole the notebook from the lounge. You stole from everyone else who came before you, and that’s what you’re doing now, too.
You didn’t earn this spot, and you know it. ”
It’s not true. She could have gotten in herself if I hadn’t been in her way. But I am.
I need to get everything back in its rightful place. I need her to hate me so much that she can’t think of anything else when she sees me, so that even her scent changes in my proximity. That’s never been clearer to me than now.
Caring for her, if that’s even possible, will do nothing for her or for me.
“Nothing to say?” I ask when she remains silent.
“No, Chef.” There are no tears.
That familiar fire of burning hatred is back, and everything is back where it needs to be. Emma should stay the fuck away from me. That’s the only way she makes it out of the web being woven around her in secret.
“Good. Now start from the beginning.”