Chapter 15
SEBASTIAN
I wanted to do this about as much as I’d want a root canal.
There was no choice but to sit and play nice in my restaurant dining room, which I had chosen specifically for this meeting. I wanted this asshole on my home turf. This was as close as Kristoff would ever get to one of my restaurants again.
“I don’t know why I never came in.” He looked around the room, studying everything with those beady rat eyes of his, though he did his best to look casual.
Let him. Let him see everything he wanted to see. It was the last chance he’d get.
“Please. I, of all people, know how busy you must be.” Did I ever. “I can’t even tell you the last time I saw my housekeeper. I’m hardly ever home long enough to give her any work to do.”
“Well, I can see why customers have raved about this food for so many years.” He dragged a crust of bread through the rich bolognese left on his plate, sopping up every last drop of what had simmered for eight hours. “It’s fantastic. So flavorful.”
That was about as much ass-kissing as I could take.
I hadn’t brought him here to remind him what good cooking tasted like, though it was a bonus.
As it was, sitting across from him all this time had strained my patience to its limit.
“There’s something I think we need to discuss.
I would like to clear the air once and for all. ”
It was funny how his eyes darted back and forth before he said anything, like he was looking around, confused as to why I would bring this up in the open among my diners.
The restaurant was beginning to empty out after our last seating, with only a few latecomers still lingering over dessert and coffee.
“Don’t worry, I won’t start hurling accusations in front of the public,” I assured him with a tight, empty smile I couldn’t maintain for long. “But this does need to be said.”
I paused before dropping the hammer, savoring his strain. “Enough fucking around. I’m onto you now. I know what you’ve done.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Fucking around? I don’t understand.”
Playing dumb. How original. “In my office, I have a series of documents detailing your involvement with a few issues I’ve had over these past several months, ever since I announced my expansion.
Don’t waste my time,” I warned when he had the nerve to look stricken, surprised.
“I found out who you paid off to schedule that inspection we almost failed with for no reason. I know the names of your contacts in the union. And I’m sure your girlfriend told you I dropped her like a bad habit last week,” I concluded.
“Girlfriend?” He blurted out a laugh. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Fuck buddy, employee you finger every once in a while. I don’t care about the specifics.
I know you sent her here as a spy.” He still had the nerve to sputter, deepening my thirst to put him in his place.
“Don’t insult my intelligence by denying it.
I’m telling you enough,” I concluded, watching the blank shock that came over him once I went silent.
It was like he knew I had him cornered, and there was no point pretending anymore.
Still, he managed to disappoint me. “I admit, I knew Marissa applied for a job after leaving my restaurant, but as for the rest of it—”
“I’ve given the information to my lawyers,” I concluded, finishing what was left of my scotch while he processed this.
“They seem to think I have enough to press charges, thanks to the way your pals squealed like stuck pigs at the slightest bit of pressure. I don’t think you paid them enough,” I added in a whisper, barely fighting off a laugh when his face fell.
He still found the nerve to lift his chin and puff out his chest. “So that’s what this is all about?
I cannot believe you would make these accusations.
” Oh, yes. Kristoff Darden’s School of Acting.
This was the part where he became the wounded party to deflect from the truth of the accusations.
I had seen it more times than I cared to remember throughout the days of our friendship, that is, if we were ever really friends.
If anything, we were roommates who hung out sometimes.
When you’re young, you don’t understand the difference.
“Consider this a warning,” I concluded once it seemed like he had himself under control. “If I find out you’re interfering in my business one more time, that’s it. The gloves come off. And my lawyers would love to earn their retainer and then some.”
When his eyes narrowed, I knew he was dropping the act. “How do I know you’re not going to go back on your word?” he asked and added, “If what you say is true.”
“You don’t even have the balls to admit what you’ve done,” I observed, unsurprised.
“You’ll have to take my word for it, won’t you?
Because let me warn you…” I added, leaning in and lowering my voice until it was a stern whisper only he could hear, “… if anything goes wrong from here on out… a bad review, a clogged drain, an act of God, I am holding you accountable, and I will bury you. Do we understand each other?”
The word hatred was the only one that sufficed in describing the expression he wore when he stood, his normally tanned skin suspiciously pale. Tossing his napkin onto the table with more force than necessary, scoffed and then shot me a cold glare before walking away without another word.
What was there to say?
Nothing I would want to hear, anyway.
I left the table and entered the kitchen, feeling like a new man, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
It had taken the better part of a week after learning of his treachery to decide how I wanted to deal with him.
In the end, it seemed wise to give him a warning rather than stir up a scandal so close to the soft opening next week.
At the same time, I didn’t want to give him too long a leash.
He needed to know I was acutely aware and that I was watching.
“It looked like he was going to puke.” Of course, Claudia had watched from the window in the kitchen door, probably standing on her tiptoes to see over the bottom edge. “What did he say?”
“Nothing beyond the empty self-defense I knew I would hear. He gave up the act quickly, though,” I concluded.
The fact was, I didn’t want to talk about him now.
Not when those big, shining eyes twinkled up at me.
This meant just as much to her as it did to me, and there was something special about that.
Something that went beyond the solidarity my friends expressed.
And I wanted to celebrate. “Listen. Everything’s under control around here,” I pointed out, noting the cleanup preparations already taking place while the last remaining diners wrapped things up. “There’s something I want to show you. Come with me.”
“Where?” she asked, removing the latex glove she wore over her right hand in the days after her burn.
The doctor I’d insisted she see assured her there was no infection.
It was well on its way to healing now, with only a gauze pad on her palm and the high-vis blue Band-Aids on her fingertips to keep her comfortable.
“You’ll see.” There was nothing I enjoyed as much as teasing her like this, especially when I was feeling hopeful and positive for the first time in forever.
The new assistant Felix hired a couple of days after Marissa’s dismissal eagerly picked up the slack, learning on the fly as Claudia explained her processes and the rhythm she and Stella had established.
After the opening, Naomi would take her place at Home Again, overseeing a trio of bakers, while Claudia split her time between both locations the way I would.
The pieces were all in place.
Nobody could take this from me.
Claudia said her goodbyes first while I waited ten minutes or so before leaving. There was still a need for discretion for her sake. I couldn’t have cared less whether the crew knew we had a deeper relationship going, but she felt it important to keep up the charade.
She was gone by the time I pulled out. When I called, she answered immediately, her voice slightly distorted as it echoed through her car. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Patience, Granger,” I urged, chuckling when she growled.
“Was that supposed to be menacing?” As usual, she was waiting a few blocks from the restaurant, pulling out behind me when I slowly passed her.
Instead of leading the way to my house like I had almost every night since she got burned, I led her down the Strip, grinning while she grumbled.
I almost couldn’t believe the day was so close when there had been so many doubts and questions. “I want to thank you,” I murmured as I drove, glancing at the rearview mirror to confirm she was still behind me. “A lot of this wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“We’ve already talked about it. I needed you to help clean up and refresh my brand, and you did.
If my investors hadn’t been convinced we were back on the right track, they would’ve pulled funding.
I couldn’t do any of this without you now,” I concluded.
Perhaps being over the phone made it that much easier to admit.
“So thank you. I don’t take that for granted. ”