When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(8)
“Mincing isn’t so bad,” he heard her saying through a crack in the door. “I had a little game I used to play whenever Monsieur Eratat—he was my meanest, foulest instructor at La Cuisine—set me to it. I’d pretend I was his barber, and I’d imagine mincing up his stupid little mustache to within a hair’s breadth of his fat nose. Of course I had to do tiny, perfect little slices to prolong Monsieur Eratat’s torture.” Elise’s silvery laughter twined with masculine chuckles. “Even Monsieur Eratat had to admit to the class that no one had a finer mince than me,” Elise added, a smile in her voice.
“I would never imagine that about you, Ms. Martin. Everything about you is too perfect to ever . . . er . . . mince,” Evan, one of his culinary assistants, stuttered awkwardly. Lucien flung open the door when he registered Evan’s worshipful tone.
Yet another mouse in her trap.
Evan and Javier immediately ceased their furor of chopping. They stared at him wide-eyed, Javier standing before mounds of porcini mushrooms and Evan before cloves of garlic. Only Elise continued in her task, glancing up at him with infuriating calm as she continued to dribble a sauce over dozens of duck fillets.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lucien asked glacially, ignoring Javier and Evan.
“Roast duck with cèpes and green beans. It’s on your lunch menu.”
“I know it’s on our lunch menu,” he grated out. Elise looked calm enough when she glanced at Javier and Evan, but he noticed the pallor of her already fair skin.
“We’re going to be pushing it for the lunch crowd, you two. Better get going,” she urged in a friendly, competent manner. Much to Lucien’s deepening fury, his two employees went back to chopping with enthusiasm.
He raised his eyebrows in a challenge. “May I see you in my office, Ms. Martin.” It was worded like a question, but it was a command. He saw her bite at her pink lower lip as if to still its quaking. He felt a surge of satisfaction at her subtle show of nerves. She looked much younger than her twenty-four years at that moment. Her figure seemed especially slight in her white chef’s jacket and loose black pants, her face appearing dewy and freshly scrubbed. For some reason, the vision of her youthful, glowing beauty combined with her competent manner sent him into a higher pitch of rage and helplessness.
He was going to have to handle her, once and for all. Unfortunately, she couldn’t be dealt with like just any beautiful woman. No, she’d been right about her cutting ability. Elise sliced to the bone.
“It’s not really a good time—”
“Get into my office this second before I drag you there, Elise.”
All the chopping sounds ceased again, although Evan and Javier kept their heads lowered. The remaining color in Elise’s cheeks faded.
“Lucien.”
His heart jumped. He glanced around at the sound of the crisp, unexpected voice. Ian Noble stood with his hand holding the kitchen door open.
“Ian, what can I do for you?” he said smoothly. It wasn’t unusual for Ian to stop by and see him—Ian owned the tower where Fusion was housed after all. It was just that his presence there today was highly inconvenient. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Elise set down the saucepan. He sensed her focused attention, ratcheting up his anxiety.
“I wanted to stop by to tell you that I won’t be able to meet you for our fencing appointment tomorrow afternoon.”
Lucien nodded. “Going out of town?”
“No, there’s something very important I’m considering buying for Francesca,” Ian said, referring to his very lovely artist girlfriend, Francesca Arno. “It takes a bit more research and thought than the common gift.” Lucien rapidly took note of his friend’s distracted air.
“You’re not going to rely on Lin’s shopping expertise?” he teased. Lin was Ian’s exceptionally talented executive assistant.
“I’m a busy man, but I’m not a fool,” he returned. Lucien laughed. He’d gathered from a few things Ian had said in the past that he’d gotten into trouble a time or two with Francesca for allowing his assistant to plan a little bit too much of the gift-giving and romantic outings. Francesca definitely preferred Ian’s personal touch, and it was a sign of Ian’s devotion to her that he freely gave her his most prized asset: his time. A man like Ian Noble had precious little of that commodity.
Ian’s gaze flickered over to Elise. Lucien stiffened when the sharp blue eyes stuck. It wasn’t just that Elise was lovely. She was like a luminous flame that radiated sexuality.
“Where’s Mario?” Ian asked quietly under his breath, referring to his disgraced chef.
Damn Elise and her intrusions.
“I fired him last night,” Lucien replied.
Ian’s brows rose in subdued curiosity. “And this is your new chef?”
“I’m Elise Martin,” Elise said, wiping off her hands with a towel and coming around the table.
“Ian Noble,” Ian said.
Lucien stood there, steaming in a vat of helplessness as he watched Ian and Elise shake hands. He couldn’t think of a way to deny that Elise worked with him without highlighting their past association, and possibly causing her to reveal something he wanted kept secret at all costs.
“Ian Noble. Noble Tower?” she murmured under her breath. He saw when it clicked into place for her. She cast an amazed, curious glance at Lucien that made him stiffen. “I knew Fusion was in the Noble Tower building, but I didn’t realize the Noble referred to you. This is your headquarters?”