Chapter Eight
To his delight, Atticus ended up being totally surprised by the birthday party.
He was normally a man who no one could pull a trick on.
Thankfully, Atticus had married a man who worked for a team that flawlessly pulled off murder-for-hire jobs without a trace.
As much as Atticus might hate birthdays, Kirkland could tell he was over the moon tonight.
Of course, he was. Love did that to a person.
Kirkland couldn’t begin to describe how proud he was of the man Atticus had become.
Maybe he wasn’t Kirkland’s son, but he was as good as.
No one could convince Kirkland that wasn’t his boy.
Kirkland’s seemingly permanent smile had more than one reason for staying put.
Fabrice might have been working his ass off behind the scenes, but each time Kirkland had caught sight of him, the heat that poured from Fabrice’s eyes melted Kirkland’s knees.
He had taken to holding on to various pieces of furniture to stay upright.
After presents were unwrapped, Kirkland made his way to the kitchen to help Fabrice get ready to bring out the cake. He made it just in time to see Fabrice smack Jett’s hand with a wooden spoon so hard, Jett had to turn away and shake out his hand.
“You don’t eat my food. No more food privileges for you.
Starve.” Fabrice flew into rapid French.
He was red in the face with rage. Kirkland had no idea what Fabrice said, but he would bet his life savings none of it was safe for mixed company.
The rage flashing in Fabrice’s eyes was sexy as sin.
His passion always stirred butterflies in Kirkland’s stomach.
Fabrice hadn’t noticed him yet. Kirkland slowed his step just so he could enjoy another moment of his sexy rage.
Jett slid his hand across the small of Fabrice’s back. “Aw, come on, sexy. You know you can’t stay mad at me.”
Kirkland’s temper shot through the roof. He walked at a clipped pace, closing the distance between them. Before anyone could register his presence, Kirkland snatched the spoon from Fabrice and smacked Jett’s other hand. Again, he jumped away to shake out his damaged appendage.
“You do not put your hands on my man, do you understand?”
Jett held his hands up, showing his surrender. “Sorry, man. I didn’t know he was off-limits.”
Kirkland glanced Fabrice’s way as he realized what he had done. A sweet smile lingered on his lips, tightening the muscles in Kirkland’s stomach.
He looked between the two. “Now, what nonsense is happening in here? I came to help with cake and find all this yelling. What did you do to my Fabrice?”
“The bumbling idiot destroyed my centerpiece with his greedy little hands. So much like a child.”
Kirkland looked toward the dining room where Fabrice had been setting up for the party. His massive croquembouche had several key caramelized pastries missing. Tidy scrambled from one side of the table to the other, trying fruitlessly to repair the damage.
Before Kirkland could react, Fabrice’s temper flew at Jett again.
“You have no thought for others in anything you do. The next time you’ve spent your entire day working, missing the fun of your loved one’s birthday, you can be sure I’ll come destroy everything you’ve done.
I missed the entirety of a party I wished to attend so I could make this night perfect.
Now I have to spend even more time working my fingers to the bone.
Ugh!” Fabrice stormed away and disappeared inside the pantry. He slammed the door behind him.
Fabrice’s outburst shone a light on many things.
He slaved in the background of everyone’s lives and missed the events he flawlessly brought to life with his creations.
His tireless work went unnoticed and was made more difficult by the ungrateful men he served.
The revelation set off Kirkland’s inner home manager. Fabrice couldn’t do this alone.
Kirkland straightened his spine, put on his haughtiest expression, and took over. “Do you have any idea how long Fabrice worked to create that masterpiece?”
Jett ran his hand over his eyes and huffed. “I’ve already apologized several times. He knows I’ll find a way to make it up to him.”
“Not good enough.” Kirkland used his most commanding voice.
“You’re banned from the kitchen for three days.
I suggest you stock your bedroom pantry.
You will not be enjoying any of Fabrice’s hard work.
While you’re eating greasy takeout, you should take that time to reflect on how you treat others.
It took seven hours for Fabrice to create that centerpiece.
That time does not include the amazing birthday cake, the dinner served this evening, and every other dish on every table throughout the day.
Hopefully, in your time of reflection, you can teach yourself to better understand the way your actions affect others and realize how paltry your apologies are. ”
Jett didn’t question his authority to ground him. His shoulders sank, and he tossed a longing look toward the desserts, or Tidy. Kirkland wasn’t sure which. “Yeah, okay.” He walked away with his head hung like a naughty child.
Despite his rage, Kirkland felt a twinge of guilt.
Being cross with Jett was a lot like kicking a puppy.
Unfortunately, Jett behaved like a child sometimes and had to be treated as such.
Kirkland moved to assist Tidy. He grabbed an empty platter on the way.
“Here. There is no salvaging what he’s done.
” Kirkland’s heart broke as they plucked the pastries decorated as small presents from the piece.
Before it had been so carelessly destroyed, Fabrice, by the magic of his talents, had made the pile of presents appear to float midair as if they were being magically blown away.
Kirkland wanted to go back and hit Jett again.
“I’ve got this. You should go comfort Fabrice. I’ve never seen him this upset.”
“It’s the stress of making everything flawless.
” Kirkland motioned toward the full table.
“This is his art. His pride, and no one notices. Him or the food.” Kirkland patted Tidy on the shoulder and headed for the pantry.
When he opened the door, he found Fabrice sitting on one of the prep countertops with his head down.
He didn’t look up when Kirkland stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
He closed the distance between them and positioned himself between Fabrice’s knees. Kirkland ran his hands up Fabrice’s thighs and didn’t stop until his fingers linked behind Fabrice’s back. He let Fabrice use his shoulder.
Fabrice buried his face in the crook of Kirkland’s neck. He inhaled. “You smell good. I’ve always loved your scent.” He pressed a light kiss on Kirkland’s ear.
“Are you okay?”
Fabrice snorted. He didn’t lift his head. “I made a fool of myself.”
“No.” Kirkland wasn’t having that. “Jett was the fool. You kill yourself to achieve perfection for this family, and that work is taken for granted. That deserves your anger.”
Fabrice lifted his head and swiped his face. He motioned across the room. “I made two. I just don’t think that one turned out as well. It’ll do, I suppose.”
Kirkland turned. He hadn’t even noticed the beautiful art piece.
His entire focus had been on Fabrice. He met Fabrice’s gaze and held his stare.
Kirkland wanted Fabrice to look into his eyes and see his honesty.
“It’s stunning. Just like you. You may think no one noticed how hard you work.
I do. But, baby, you have to let go of your ironclad control and let the kitchen staff help you.
Everyone working here is the best at what they do.
You deserve to delegate so you can join the family as you deserve. ”
“No one will get everything done to the same standard as I do. I don’t want anyone thinking my work is subpar.”
Kirkland smiled. He didn’t want Fabrice to think he laughed at him. Fabrice was just so adorable. “Just tell Jett you didn’t make certain items. The entire party will know before the end of the night.”
Fabrice snorted. Jett was a well-known gossiper in their home.
Beau stormed his way into the pantry.
Kirkland tensed. He had never seen Beau angry. Kirkland had never been more terrified in his life. Holy shit. His body was frozen.
Beau focused on Kirkland. “Go back to the party.”
Kirkland cast a glance toward Fabrice. He knew he risked death if he defied Beau, but he would for Fabrice.
Fabrice nodded toward the door. “It’s fine. Get back to celebrating the man who’s practically your son.”
He didn’t want to leave Fabrice, but he obeyed. “Okay. I’ll see you out there.”
Fabrice kissed his cheek and sent him on his way. Kirkland didn’t make eye contact with Beau as he passed. If he saw any intent to harm Fabrice in Beau’s eyes, he would stay.
Beau closed the pantry door behind him with a snap. Kirkland desperately wanted to listen at the door, but Beau would know. The guy knew everything. With a heavy heart, Kirkland headed back out to the party. He might not know how to fix this, but he could start trying.
Fabrice hated losing his temper and looking dramatic.
Sometimes life got the best of him. Tonight, he had lost the battle against his anger.
He slid off the countertop and straightened his chef’s coat.
Fabrice avoided meeting Beau’s gaze. He never wanted to look weak in front of the man who had given him everything.
Every thought he had dragged him closer to the edge of tears.
Beau moved across the room and pulled Fabrice into a hug.
Fabrice lost the battle. “Mon Dieu. I feel so dumb for being this upset.”
Beau’s hold tightened for a second. “No. It’s Jett who should feel like an idiot. Please know I’ll deal with that.”
Fabrice took a step back and wiped his face. “That’s not necessary. Kirkland and I both hit him with a wooden spoon. I imagine both his hands will be black tomorrow.”