Chapter 1 #2
“It has been a little awkward, hasn’t it?
” She was doing her best to be cheerful, bright, and sunny like the persona she’d put across in a dozen talk show appearances since her win when she’d been crowned America’s Best Baker.
Absolutely fucking ridiculous, meaningless, a so-called honor.
For some reason, people took that sort of shit seriously. Hence, her presence.
This isn’t all about you. It was about my employees, my legacy. There was a hell of a lot riding on this, and I couldn’t afford to let my ego get in the way, or so I’d been told by Felix. It was easy for him to say.
“Between you and me, I have so looked forward to sitting down with you and picking your brain.” She stood in the doorway to my cramped office. I didn’t notice until I sat at my desk how uncertain she looked.
“Is there a problem?” I asked, gesturing toward a small, padded chair near mine.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she released a soft chuckle. “I’m sorry. I expected something… bigger. That sounds all wrong, doesn’t it?” Yes, my office probably seemed downright miniature compared to the offices of major network producers.
“I would rather have as much space as possible devoted to work outside this room,” I explained while she took a seat, immediately setting her backpack on the floor and unzipping it to pull out a binder stuffed with pages.
Neon-colored Post-it notes stuck out here and there.
It looked like she’d spilled coffee on it at one point, some of the pages discolored and wavy at the edges.
“I get the feeling we’re going to get along just fine,” she assured me with a soft laugh. “I would be the same way. It’s just, with a reputation like yours, I imagined you would splurge on a larger office. Goes to show how much I know, right?”
It went to show how little experience she had in a real, working kitchen. “Well, I imagine you’re used to working in cramped spaces too. TV cameras and lighting rigs must take up a lot of room.”
Her blue eyes flicked away from my framed certificates and awards on the wall behind me, her brows drawing together over the rims of those ridiculous glasses. “Pardon me?”
“I’m just saying. TV sets. I’m sure there can’t be much room when you have all that equipment around you.”
She crossed her legs, balanced the open binder across them, then folded her arms. “I’ve done much more than that.” The bright, sunny voice had gone flat. If anything, it was an improvement. Who was genuinely that chipper at six in the morning? “Exactly how much do you know about me?”
I sat up straighter, matching her energy, noting the twitching in the apple of her cheek.
It didn’t take much to set her off, though she was doing all she could to conceal it.
“Sienna provided a thorough portfolio covering your training and experience,” I explained, now more cordial to counter her iciness.
“So you realize I trained in France? Not to mention the year I spent in New York before the competition?”
Inclining my head, I murmured, “I’m well aware and impressed.”
“I didn’t ask,” she muttered, clamping her mouth shut over eyes that widened like she hadn’t meant to let that slip.
This conversation was going nowhere, and every word I said only made it worse.
The entire situation wasn’t my style, which was probably a large part of the problem—kissing ass, playing nice, layering lies between us for the sake of making it work.
I prided myself on being upfront, sometimes almost brutally honest. There was no room for ass-kissing in this industry.
Rather than continue the charade a minute longer, I decided to lay my cards on the table.
“Claudia, let’s clear the air. I had no desire to hire you because I don’t think a famous name aligns with the brand I’ve worked so hard to build over the past decade.
As far as I’m concerned, this is a charade intended to—”
“Refresh the brand you’ve worked so hard to build over the past decade?
” she suggested while looking me up and down, almost like it was for the first time.
“Sebastian, from where I’m sitting, your brand is in danger.
Your reservation book is not as full as it used to be, and your waiting list?
It’s practically nonexistent. Tell me I’m wrong. ”
Before I could force a word out of my mouth, she added, “Sienna was very thorough when it came to researching you, as well. I don’t walk into situations I’m unaware of,” she explained, her fingertips tapping the first page in her binder in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
“We both know what this is about. You need me, and I need work. Why don’t we skip the part where we blow smoke up each other’s asses and express our undying gratitude and get right to work. I have a lot to do.”
My pride reared, demanding satisfaction. “Exactly why couldn’t you find work in New York?” I asked, noting the way her face fell slightly. “I mean, with a sparkling personality like the one you’ve displayed so far, I’d think restaurant owners would be beating down your door.”
“That’s my business,” she replied, practically looking down her nose at me.
“Working with a brand you so blithely disparaged? That’s your business?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes, it is. I not only needed work, I needed a new start. That’s all I’m going to say.”
Fair enough.
But if she thought I would kiss her feet for deigning to work with me, she had another thing coming.