A Convenient Scandal. Kimberley Troutte

so heavy.

      “It’s okay. Alfieri was—” how to describe the man who’d destroyed her? “—difficult. I couldn’t stay. Don’t get me wrong, I owe him my career. He took me in as a young apprentice. He was a great teacher, a fabulous chef who took a chance on me. When things were good, they were really good. I miss what we had together. What we created.” That last bit came out choked.

      “Oh,” Lily said softly. “You were in love with him?”

      The creative genius? She adored that part of him, but the rest terrified her.

      She shook her head. “He is fifteen years older than me and so full of life and experience. I was an innocent girl from Indiana who ventured to New York to hone my cooking skills. Alfieri became my mentor. Because I owed him so much, I overlooked—” she winced, remembering the night he’d tried to scald her with boiling sauce because it was too salty “—I tried to ignore his faults. Until things got too intense.”

      Her throat was dry. She reached for the mineral water on the table with trembling fingers. Damn that man! He still got to her. She tried to wash the memories down.

      “What happened?” Lily’s eyes filled with concern.

      She didn’t know if it was the fact that she was so far from home and missing her sister—and, of course, Mom—or because Lily had such a gentle way about her, but Michele felt like she could confide in her. Now that she was talking, she couldn’t stop. “I threatened to leave because parts of me, the best parts, were disappearing.” Now, thanks to him, she still second-guessed herself every time she stepped into the kitchen. Alfieri’s caustic words had dammed up her colorful river. “He apologized for his behavior, promised to go to anger-management therapy, and begged me to stay. Then he offered me a partnership. He was opening a second restaurant and said I could be the head chef there. We’d rarely have to see one another and I’d have full reign over the second location. It seemed like a dream come true. I agreed and gave him my life’s savings as my share of the partnership. I trusted him.” She looked Lily in the eye. “Fatal mistake.”

      “Oh, no.”

      “Long ugly story cut to the chase—he hired another chef for the second location without telling me.” Another young woman to idolize and belittle. “I quit and demanded my money back. He said he didn’t know what I was talking about but I could hire a lawyer if I wanted. He knew I didn’t have money for lawyers. I was such a fool to trust him.”

      Michele didn’t realize she was crying until Lily got up from her lounger, went inside and came back with a wash towel.

      “You poor dear.” Lily handed her the towel. “I hope Alfieri gets his just deserts for treating you like that.”

      Michele wiped her face, grateful for the kindness. Lily was the first person she’d confided in about this. She didn’t talk about Alfieri much, because she was deeply ashamed. She should’ve left his restaurant long ago but she’d been in such awe of his brilliant mind that she’d made excuses for his behavior. As if cruelty was acceptable, even expected, from a head chef.

      What she hadn’t realized was that cruelty would eat goodness and destroy beauty. It had wormed under her skin, stealing the special gift her mom had given her, and even after that, she’d believed Alfieri.

      She should’ve known better than to put her trust in a condescending, egotistical man. She’d never make that mistake again.

      The door opened to the balcony, making Michele jump.

      “Here you two are.” Jeff’s sister stepped outside. “Lily, you’re the first chef to cook tonight. Please come downstairs to the kitchen in thirty minutes. Michele, you’ll be cooking tomorrow. Good luck to both of you.”

      Good luck she needed desperately, and she would work her backside off to get it.

      * * *

      Jeff paced the large kitchen.

      What in the hell was he doing?

      The first two chefs had created culinary masterpieces. He’d personally judged them both and gave them five out of five stars. Either one of the dishes would be perfect for his new restaurant. The chefs were both talented and intelligent. There wasn’t anything wrong with either of them. The problem? He hadn’t...connected with either one.

      There was no poetry.

      Who was up next? He looked at his clipboard and read the names. The second name from the bottom caught his eye. Michele Cox.

      A tiny spark zinged in his gut.

      He picked up his cell phone and dialed Chloe’s number. His sister had come home recently, too, and was helping with the candidate selection. Right now, he needed a clear head.

      “How’s it going?” Chloe asked. “Ready for Tonia?”

      “Skip ahead to Michele Cox.”

      “She’s not up until lunch tomorrow.”

      He couldn’t wait that long. He had to know if the zing in his core was real. “Move her up.”

      “Sure. I like her. She’s so, I don’t know...”

      “Sparkly.” The word left his mouth before he could shut it down.

      “Yes! That’s it. Her eyes, her dimples, there’s a shine there. Do you know her?”

      “Not really. Do not tell her I said that either. If her culinary skills don’t match my expectations I’ll send her home like the other two.”

      “You’re dismissing them already? Don’t move. I’m on my way.” Less than a minute later, Chloe rushed into the kitchen. “Seriously? Just like that, they’re done? You didn’t give those first two chefs much of a chance and one of them was Dad’s pick—the sheikh’s daughter.”

      “Dad isn’t making the decisions here. I am. Why waste their time and mine?” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

      “Because this is just another example of how you don’t spend much effort getting to know people. Do you ever let anyone in, Jeff?”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “I worry about you. When was the last time you made a real connection with someone? Anyone?” She pressed her hand to his chest. “Here.”

      Never. “I don’t have time for real connections.”

      “You need to try or you’ll wake up one day, grumpy, old and lonely. There’s more to life than work, Jeff. More to relationships than three minutes in an elevator.” She softened the zinger with a smile.

      He wasn’t going to discuss the sex video with his kid sister. It had been more than three minutes, but few people knew what had really happened in the elevator and he wanted to keep it that way.

      “I’m fine.”

      “Are you?” Her gaze pored over his face, her expression sad. “After what Mom did to you? Of the three of us, you had it the worst. I still have nightmares about that night in the shed.”

      Suddenly, he felt cold, his heart pounding. “How? You were, like, three.”

      “I remember.”

      He squeezed his hands into fists. He was not going to talk about this. “I’m fine. You can stop worrying about me being old and lonely. Didn’t you hear the news? I’m getting married.”

      She shook her head. “Not funny, Jeff.”

      He lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t believe me? Ask Dad.”

      She mimicked his pose right back at him. His little sister never backed down from a challenge. It ran in the family. “Stop teasing. When we were kids, you swore you’d never get married.”

      He shrugged. “People grow up.”

      Her eyes