When one of his other chefs took over the main demonstration, Rob texted me.
Rob: Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?
Skye: Decided just before I came over.
Rob: Stay until the end.
Skye: That’s what I intend.
Rob: It’s gonna take a few more hours, but I’ll make it worth the wait.
Skye: I’m counting on it.
He looked up from his phone, and I could swear his gaze darkened. Even from this distance, I felt there was something feral in it. I averted my gaze after a few seconds, feeling flushed and turned on.
His alpha vibes were potent even from a distance. On second thought... Dom Perignon might have contributed to my susceptibility. The servers had been refilling my glass, so I wasn’t totally sure how much I’d drunk. I took another sip, hoping to cool off from Rob’s attention. It worked... right until I looked up again and Rob trapped my gaze in his once more. It was full of delicious promises. I’d shown up here to surprise him, but I had a suspicion that I was the one about to be surprised tonight.
Chapter Eighteen
Rob
I loved seeing Skye in the crowd.
It hadn’t been part of the plan for me to be a front man tonight, but one of the chefs had a cold, so I stepped in.
After midnight, the crowd thinned... but not enough for me to just throw Skye over my shoulder and get the hell out of here. I had to make do with glimpses of her and quick text messages.
“We have one more dish to walk the crowd through,” my sous-chef said. I nodded, getting back to work. I felt just as comfortable in a suit as in a chef’s uniform. I liked mixing things up. This was a welcome change from numbers, spreadsheets, meetings, setting goals, and bossing everyone into doing their jobs.
Here it was just me, the ingredients, and the kitchen utensils. The simplicity and repetitive nature of it relaxed me. The added task of explaining each step to the audience wasn’t a problem... except that now I couldn’t look at this counter and not imagine all the ways
I could have Skye on it. I’d trail my mouth all over her delicious little body.
Later!
I shook my head, trying to dispel the shockingly clear and vivid image.
Once the last dish was over, the patrons left in droves, as did the critics. As usual, only our business partners stayed until the end, or those who hoped to do business with us.
I knew their game. They hoped to sway me into buying more product by offering larger discounts. If you were good, everyone wanted a piece of you or your success. That was okay with me, because it was when they didn’t come calling that you had to worry.
They were going to leave disappointed. Two things had led to Dumont Foods growing by leaps and bounds since I took over.
One: I was a tough negotiator.
Two: I liked setting goals and was relentless in my pursuit of them.
The second I joined the crowd, a supplier approached me.
“Robert. Good to see you back.”
“Happy to be in New York again.”
“Think we can talk about a discount offer I’ve got for your restaurants over a few drinks?”
“You know my policy. No negotiations happen outside meeting rooms,” I said coolly, leveling him with a stare. Come on, you gave it a shot. Now go.
When he finally left, the place was empty except for Skye and me. The staff had gone—they’d already cleaned while I was preparing the last dish. I crooked a finger at Skye. She shook her head, mirroring my gesture with a sassy smile. I walked right to her table.