Burn (Heat #1)(8)

I'm in front of the restaurant now, teetering precariously in four inch heels. I'm not the dress up type, unless I'm headed to a club with Sophia, or going on a date. I haven't done the latter since I broke up with Brendon. I also haven't worn this high of heels in forever so I'm hoping that I don't accidentally fall into the lap of one of the food critics Tyler invited to the party.

I open the door and I'm instantly greeted with the meshed sounds of soft jazz and muted voices. The restaurant is swarming with people, all dressed sharply for the occasion. Some of the servers are in their uniforms, carrying trays filled with the recently introduced one bite appetizers. Virtually every person has a drink in their hand.

It's the same space where we serve hundreds of people dinner each night, but tonight it's different. The lighting is even more relaxed, the mood casual. It's transformed. The ambiance is inviting and intimate.

I spot another junior chef across the room. It's Maribel. She started working for Tyler when the restaurant first opened last year. She raises her hand as a beacon for me. I can sense by the expression on her face that she feels just as misplaced as I do. I'm grateful she's here, even if I hadn't realized how much I would need a friendly shoulder to lean on.

"Holy f*ck, Cadence." She reaches her hands forward to grab my shoulders. "You look amazing. I feel underdressed."

She shouldn't. She's striking in a deep purple dress, accented with a strand of single pearls around her neck. Her long black hair flows in soft waves over her shoulders. I've never seen her like this. "Me? You look like a completely different person with your hair down."

She laughs, and I grab onto that delight, hoping it will chase away the lingering anxiety I'm feeling. I want to help present Nova in the best light possible. This is the place where I plan to gather not only knowledge, but accomplishments, so I can one day open my own restaurant.

"I feel out of place," she confesses as she loops her arm through mine. "Why don't we mingle as a duo? You can lean on me and I'll lean on you."

"It's a deal." I look out into the crowd, trying to find Tyler's tall frame. I don't see him. He's either sitting at one of the many tables where people have gathered or he's tucked into a corner with someone.

The thought that it could be a woman forms an instant knot in my stomach. I try to shake it away with a remark about the weather to Maribel, but it's stuck. I don’t want it there. I can't feel that way. Tyler is my boss. He may think I'm captivating, but I'm his employee and he doesn't mix business with pleasure, as interesting as he may think I am.

"Chef Sutton." I feel a light tap on my shoulder, accompanied by a female voice. "I was hoping you'd be there."

I turn my attention and body toward her. It's the producer from the morning show. Her name slips my mind.

"I'm Barbara." She reaches a hand to Maribel. "Cadence and I met when she did a cooking segment on our show."

"This is Maribel," I interject quickly. "She works with me in the kitchen here. She's a fantastic chef."

I feel Maribel's gaze on me. I highly doubt she ever gets the recognition she deserves. She's almost fifty-years-old. She's worked hard for much of her life to gain traction in an industry that, until recently, was dominated primarily by men. I could tell that it pained her when I was chosen for the cooking segment. It was written all over her face when she congratulated me in a weak tone.

She wanted that opportunity and when she didn't get it, she tightened the armor around her. She pasted on a smile that anyone could see was as fake as the producer's breasts; one of which keeps rubbing my arm as she leans in to talk to me.

"This is where the beautiful women have gathered." Tyler walks over, dressed in a navy suit, complete with light blue shirt and tie. "You all look ravishing tonight."

I meet his gaze as he tips the glass of champagne in his hand. "Thank you, Chef."

"Thank you, Cadence," he says smoothly. "Thank you for coming."





CHAPTER 8


"I have a gift for you."

I glance over my shoulder at Tyler. He stepped away from Maribel, Barbara and I when a man wearing bright white pants and a canary yellow jacket came to talk to him. I don't know the man's name. He seems familiar, but I can't place him. It's that way when you work in this industry. You meet critics, diners and friends of other chefs all the time.

"A gift." I hand the empty glass I've been holding to one of the servers. I opted for sparkling water when it was offered. I'm not against a glass of expensive champagne when there's a need to celebrate but alcohol and these heels are too risky of a mix for me.

"It's in the back. I'd like to give it to you now."

The party hasn't slowed at all since I arrived more than an hour ago. I'm surprised that he's willing to pull himself away to give me anything, much less a gift. "Lead the way."

I follow him through the crowded restaurant, waiting patiently when he stops to chat briefly with two of his guests. He introduces me both times by my first name only.

I've never heard him address anyone in the kitchen as Chef. He covets that title, as he should. He earned it. He's the one who took the risk to open this restaurant in one of the country's most crowded and volatile markets.