Addicted (The Addicted Series, #1)(59)

"I know you will," Horst said. For the first time in the year and a half I'd actually been allowed to speak with him, he smiled. "Don't think I haven't been watching, Aksoy. I have pushed you harder than any of the other young ones who have come in the door precisely because I know who you are. In fact, I apprenticed under your father many years ago, although you probably don't remember. It seems that German DNA and Turkish cooking don't get along well. But he was a kind man, and when you came along looking for a job, I made sure there was something for you."

"Thank you Chef," I repeated, trying to control the tears that threatened to come to my eyes. I tried to think of words to say, and couldn't. "Thank you."

"Good. Now, I saw today you have requested time off next week to go to your mother's wedding. Is that correct?"

"Yes Chef."

"Ja wohl. I remember her, she is a fine woman. Okay then, starting tomorrow you get nine days off, including next weekend. Just remember, when you come back, Shannon will be expecting you to do competition practice as well as your normal duties. So don't relax too much on me."

"I won't Chef."

Horst nodded and patted me on the shoulder. "Now take ten Krystal, and go enjoy the moment. You've made it to the next step."

I smiled and gave him a nod as I walked away, making note that he used my first name.





Chapter 3


Krystal




The Castelbon Manor is immense. Driving up in my rented Honda, I had to pause once I got out just to take it all in. I mean, growing up as Krystal Aksoy, only child of Danyal Aksoy and Sandra Hepburn, and one of only three grandchildren of Maximus Hepburn, I've never had a point in my life like some of my co-workers in Alinea where they didn't know where their next meal was coming from. I went to good schools, got to go on trips overseas when I was on summer vacation, and in general led a very good life. But Mom was a lot like me, in that she never wanted to flaunt her wealth. We lived in a gated community sure, but the house wasn't extravagant. Meanwhile, Castelbon Manor had a servant's quarters larger than the house I lived in when I was in high school.

If Mom hadn't had me meet Johnathan Castelbon before the wedding, I would have taken him for a stuck up man. But to my surprise, he was really a great guy. He and Mom had met while she was taking her once a year vacation to New Hampshire, where Grandpa Max had the Hepburn Estate, which just happened to be nestled among some of the best skiing in New England near Bretton Woods. Mom always was an avid skier, and had met John Castelbon while they were both resting in the lodge during a heavy flurry that took visibility to nothing.

It was love at first sight, according to Mom. I could see why too the first time I met John, after Mom insisted he visit Chicago to see our home. I was in my senior year of college at the time, and he reminded me a lot of Dad, with the same driven yet compassionate personality, and the same open heart. He and Mom are close in age, which I think was part of what allowed John to relax around her. He'd been burned twice in marriages before, both times to younger women, and having Mom around who didn't expect him to be a sugar daddy, allowed him to be himself. For the two years plus that he and Mom dated before he popped the question, I'd really gotten to know the man, and I couldn't have been happier that they were getting married.

Still, I was worried about one thing as I climbed the steps to the front door, my backpack over my shoulder. Supposedly, Julian was coming home for the wedding. The proverbial bad boy, Googling his name gave you more hits than his father's. I know, I'd checked one time. Of course, the results of that search weren't positive either. Drunken escapades in LA nightclubs, being seen with more starlets than I could remember, and being arrested seemed to be his favorite hobbies. The little bit the manor staff had told me, he was the same as a teenager, all of it beginning when Julian's mother and Johnathan parted ways when Julian was only seven.

Part of what worried me was that in every picture of Julian Castelbon I'd ever seen, physically he was the sort of guy I was into. Tall, dark haired, with the same sort of Nordic skin and features that made me think that in the Castelbon family tree there was a distinct Viking bloodline somewhere. The picture of him throwing down with that rapper's pose, his tank top torn off and his muscles rippling, had sat uncomfortably in my mind for weeks. If I had any safety, it was in the fact that by all accounts, he was a total selfish *. I'd worked around enough of those in the culinary world that I didn't need to worry about dealing with that in my personal life as well.

Ringing the doorbell, I was greeted by Yuki, John's . . . well, I never have quite figured out what to call Yuki. A beautiful Japanese woman, she in a lot of ways would be considered a butler, if her name were Alfred, if she were British, and if she were a man. Still, she ran the house well, and John depended on her to take care of keeping Castelbon Manor in top condition. "Ah, Krystal, how are you?" Yuki greeted me. That was another thing I liked about John, he never insisted on formality unless it was some society function sort of thing. Yuki had extended the same comfortable familiarity with me, a sign that she respected me. It was only with people she didn't like that she used the words mister or miss. "I hope your flight from Chicago went well?"

"Of course it did Yuki, thanks for asking. And how is Lizette?" By the way, Yuki is a lesbian. Kudos to John for hiring a Japanese lesbian as the person to run the manor in super conservative New England.