Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Ariana
It was Monday morning, and I was walking through the Farmers Market with Kenji beside me. It was his day off—and mine too. Last night, when he dropped me off at the apartment, he’d asked if I wanted to come along. I said yes.
Going with a chef was definitely a different experience.
Kenji was practically buzzing with excitement, like a kid in a candy store.
We made a lot of stops, and almost every vendor caught his attention.
And he came prepared, dragging along a wheeled cart that made it clear this wasn’t just a stroll. He was here to shop.
“Are these for Ana?s?” I asked, eyes wide as he inspected a bundle of carrots with the same reverence most people reserved for fine jewelry.
“Nope, these are for me.”
My eyes drifted to the cart he’d been dragging, already overflowing with fresh produce. “All of it?”
He looked up and grinned. “Yes.” Then he laughed and nodded to the vendor. “It’s a lot, I know. But I like trying out new recipes in my spare time.”
I watched him negotiate the price and finally hand over the cash.
“Don’t you use your time off to rest?” I asked when we began walking again. “Or, I don’t know… hang out with friends?”
“I just moved here,” he said, which was true. He moved here for Ana?s. Then he added, “I only know you and the people who work with us.”
He stopped walking, which made me stop too. “I do want to hang out with you sometimes. Maybe we can have a drink, or…I can cook for you at my place.”
Oh.
I looked at him, momentarily unsure what to say. But then again, it was just a drink. Or having a meal together. Something casual, at his place. And maybe it would be nice to have someone like him cook for me. A chef of his caliber, preparing a meal just for me? That felt like a privilege.
We could be just friends. We didn’t have to be anything else.
Well, aside from the whole boss-employee thing.
“I’d love that,” I replied with a smile.
“How about lunch now?”
That caught me off guard. He wasn’t wasting any time.
“Sure,” I said, a little slower than I meant to.
He chuckled. “You sounded unsure when you said ‘sure.’”
I laughed too. “No, really. Lunch it is.”
“Good.” He smiled wider.
God, this man was beautiful.
All sharp angles and dark, almond-shaped eyes, with skin so smooth and clear it almost glowed. His cheeks were faintly flushed from the cold. When he smiled, soft creases appeared like dimples, and his lips—scrumptious and pink—were neither too full nor too thin, with a delicate dip in the center.
I felt my cheeks warm under his gaze, the way it held mine a beat longer than it should have.
But I wasn’t worthy of that kind of attention. Not with everything I was still carrying. I had already pulled Stephen into my mess when he didn’t deserve any of it, and I wasn’t about to do that to someone else.
Still, one lunch wouldn’t hurt. Just this once. I wouldn’t let it go any further than that.
We walked to his car as he asked what I wanted him to cook for me. I smiled and told him it was up to him.
The drive back to our apartment was filled with easy conversation and curious questions. He knew I’d been born and raised in this town and asked me about the places I loved.
Somehow, I found myself telling him more than I expected—about the park with the broken swings where I used to sit after school, the old movie theater I loved, which couldn’t even operate properly yet still managed to draw a crowd, the quiet streets I wandered when I needed to think, and the fifty-year-old café where I used to sit for hours, lost in whatever book I was reading.
I hadn’t planned to share so much, but it felt natural with him. He listened so intently, as if he wasn’t just hearing my words but carefully collecting the pieces of me I had left scattered across this town.
And somehow—and I knew it was strange—I couldn’t stop thinking about how much he reminded me of Grayson. That same ease. That same sense of comfort I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Even the way he spoke, unhurried, like he was never in a rush to fill the silence. And the way he looked at me, like he saw more than I let on.
It brought back memories of a time when happiness felt within reach, when I still had the man I loved more than anything. They came rushing in like a reel of moments, flickering behind my eyes before I had the chance to stop them.
I gave my head a small shake, trying to push those thoughts away.
Then I asked him about himself. Beyond knowing he was in his early thirties, single, and had earned a Michelin star at just twenty-eight, I realized I didn’t know much else.
He shared bits and pieces—where he grew up, how he started cooking at a young age, a passion passed down from his Japanese father. The kitchen, he said, had always felt like home.
He lived in Tokyo until he was sixteen, then moved from country to country with his parents before they eventually settled in the city.
And then, of course, he came to this town for Ana?s.
I asked him what made him decide to come to work for me, especially when he’d already been at one of the most luxurious restaurants in the city.
He said, “Because you convinced me. I’d never met anyone with your kind of determination. The way you spoke about your vision, your passion, I knew I’d be in good hands.”
He paused as he parked in front of our building, then turned to glance at me.
“And because you intrigued me,” he said softly. “I’ve never met anyone like you. So if you’re asking why I said yes… it’s because of you.”
Then he stepped out of the car, leaving me stunned in my seat. A moment later, he opened my door, as if nothing had just shifted between us.
We walked up to his apartment on the fifth floor. Inside, I saw it was a two-bedroom, unlike my one-bedroom, but the way he kept it showed he wasn’t the type to spoil himself with luxury. He kept things simple, the way I did.
The place wasn’t fully furnished yet, but the kitchen stood out—modern and professional, with six burners, a double oven, and an industrial stainless-steel fridge.
When I caught myself staring at it too long, he said, “That’s why I chose this place. It had the best kitchen out of all the ones I saw.”
He pulled his cart into the kitchen and started unloading everything. I moved to help without thinking, falling into the rhythm of it naturally.
There was something easy about it. Comfortable. Almost domestic.
And again, I found my mind drifting to the days I spent living with Grayson.
Not because Kenji reminded me of him—they were nothing alike—but something about the ease in the room, the quiet simplicity of just existing in a space with someone, took me back to a time when life had felt uncomplicated, when it had felt like enough.
When Kenji told me what he wanted to cook, I had to ask him to repeat himself because I wasn’t focusing.
“Would you like it if I cooked you a Wagyu roast beef bowl?” he asked again. “It’s quick and simple.”
“Yes,” I answered, maybe a little too quickly.
He gave me an amused look. My cheeks warmed, caught up in the moment and the way I’d been quietly watching him. “You can sit anywhere you like. Or you can watch me cook.”
I slid onto one of the high stools by the island. “I want to watch,” I said.
“Okay,” he said, beginning to pull ingredients from the fridge.
At the same time, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my jacket and saw Toby’s name flashing on the screen. I answered, giving Kenji a quick signal before walking across the room to the living room window.
“Taylor already confirmed. She’s going to the gala,” Toby said, skipping any greeting. Typical.
“Has Luca arrived yet?” I asked.
“Yeah. Checked into the hotel this morning. Asked about you.”
I clicked my tongue. “He knows I can’t be seen with him.”
“He said he’s got it. He’ll approach Taylor at the event.”
“Good. Make sure he knows exactly who she is.”
“Of course,” he said. “And there’s something I want you to see. I’ll send it to you in a bit.” Then he hung up, just like that.
I lowered my hand and stared at my phone for a moment.
Luca D’Arienzo. I had met him a year ago—a face that made headlines, a name that opened doors. To the world, he was a successful model. To me, he was something else entirely. A man who knew how to play a role, who didn’t ask too many questions, and who was always hungry for more money.
All I had to do was hand him the right opportunity.
He would deliver exactly what I needed. The final blow for Taylor.
Demi’s turn would come soon after.
And then Grayson’s parents. I hadn’t forgotten them. I never forgot. They were next.
I was walking back to the kitchen when my phone buzzed again.
It was a message from Toby. I opened it and let out a quiet laugh.
He’d sent photos. Jack Helser, Demi’s husband, kissing Taylor.
Toby had been working on this for months, long before I ever stepped foot back in town.
He shadowed them quietly, learned their routines, and followed them without being seen.
Eventually, they slipped. He tracked them out of the city to a small boutique hotel off the main road, where caution was ignored, and routine turned careless.
The photos were taken in the parking lot, just before they parted ways and drove off in separate cars. There was no room for denial; no explanation could twist the truth into something less harsh. They were cheating behind Demi’s back. It was everything we’d been waiting for.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and returned to the stool, watching an incredibly gorgeous man cook for me.
He looked up when he saw me and said, “This won’t take long.”
I nodded, grinning. “Okay.”
When he finished, we sat side by side at the kitchen island, eating. Just as I’d predicted, the first bite was enough to make my eyelids flutter.
“This is incredible,” I said through a mouthful. “Even though I’ve had your cooking before, you still manage to amaze me every time.”
He gave a small smile. “Glad you like it.”
“Love it,” I said.
“Do you cook?” he asked. “I just realized I don’t know that about you.”
“I do,” I nodded. “Nothing fancy. Just comfort food, mostly for myself.”
He tilted his head. “Has anyone ever cooked for you before?”
And just like that, Grayson surfaced again. I didn’t know why, of all days, he kept slipping into my thoughts today. Maybe it was the comfort, the calm, how everything felt familiar.
“Yeah, there was someone,” I said softly. “We used to cook together. He was better at it. I was usually in charge of chopping and washing while he did the rest.”
“Stephen?” Kenji asked cautiously.
I laughed. “No. Stephen only knows how to eat food, not make it.”
He went quiet for a moment, then asked, “Someone from the past?”
I looked at him. Our eyes met. “Yeah. Someone I don’t really talk about.”
He hesitated, then said, “Can I ask you something? Only if you’re okay with it. If not, tell me to shut up.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I heard something,” he said carefully. “About you and Grayson. One of the customers mentioned it. Sounded like… your relationship was well known?”
Letting out an exasperated sigh, I nodded.
“Don’t want to talk about it?”
I shook my head.
“Okay,” he said gently, offering a small smile. “I won’t ask again. Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I know I was kind of a hot topic around here a few years back.” I paused, then added, “But if I can ask one thing, it’s that you don’t believe everything they said. Especially about me. It wasn’t true.”
He held my gaze, and his expression didn’t shift. “I won’t. I trust you.”
“Thank you.”
Once we’d finished eating, I helped him clean up, moving around the kitchen like I’d done it a thousand times. He made coffee afterward, and we settled side by side again, falling into a quiet that felt easy, not awkward.
Then he said, “I have another question.”
I gave him a look, and he laughed. “I know, I’ve been asking a lot today. But I really need to know this one.”
“Alright,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “Go ahead.”
“You told me once that you and Stephen weren’t a thing. That it was complicated.”
I set my cup down carefully, a flicker of tension tightening my shoulders. “Yeah. That’s true.”
“Is it still complicated?” he asked.
I searched his eyes, silently hoping he wasn’t about to ask what I feared. But still, I answered honestly.
“Yes.”
He leaned in slightly. “Does that mean that you’re not in a relationship with him?”
Another truth. “Yes. And no. Like I said, it’s complicated.”
He exhaled, a quiet sigh that seemed to carry something heavier. “Then if I told you I liked you a lot, would that make things worse?”
I hesitated, then whispered, “Yes.”
He looked down briefly, then met my eyes again, his voice quieter this time.
“I want to spend more time with you, Ari. Just the two of us. We could go out, or keep doing this, spending time together outside of work. Just give me a chance to show you who I am beyond the kitchen.”
When I didn’t answer right away and only held his gaze, he added, “Think about it, okay? It’s completely your call. But I’m really hoping you’ll say yes.”
“Okay. Give me some time to think about it,” I said, not entirely sure why. I should’ve said no right away. But there was something about him that made me want to consider it, to really think about it.
He nodded, smiling. “Thank you.”
We ended up talking for hours—about Ana?s, the new dishes he was planning for the menu, and eventually about everything and nothing. By the time dinner came around, he had cooked for us again.
It was already dark when I got back to my apartment. Feeling too full, I decided to take a short walk to ease the heaviness in my stomach.
But the moment I stepped onto the street, I noticed a car parked across from the building. A familiar one. And the man leaning against it was even more familiar.
Grayson.
He straightened as soon as he saw me. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and he looked wrecked, worse than the last time I saw him.
I watched as he crossed the street toward me.
“Ari,” he breathed, his voice shaky.
“Why are you here again, Grayson?” I frowned. “This is starting to feel like stalking.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to talk at Ana?s or Belrose. I don’t want anyone to hear this.”
“Hear what?” I asked suspiciously. “What do you want to say to me?”
He hesitated, jaw tight, eyes uncertain. Whatever it was, it was heavy. He seemed to weigh the words before finally saying,
“I need your help.”
I blinked, startled. “What?”
He nodded faintly, his voice gravelly and subdued.
“I need your help to save me.”