Chapter 31 Episode 31

I push that feeling away, compose myself, and stride through the double doors. Just inside, the hired staff is waiting in a long line to greet me. They’re dressed in matching outfits of black pants and white aprons. I spot Jessa immediately. She’s dressed in a freshly pressed white chef’s coat with the words “Sous Chef” stitched over her right breast. Her blonde hair has been combed back into a tight bun and her makeup is subtle and understated. Her chin is lifted, professional—and then she sees me. Then, just like Yulian, she runs the gamut of emotions. Surprise, denial, acceptance, anger, fear. Her eyebrows pull together, her mouth pulling down in a deep frown. She clearly had no idea this night was meant just for her. I ignore her for the time being and plant myself in front of the line of staff. “I hope you know that it’s unprecedented to hire a catering company at The Plaza.” A soft murmur of acknowledgement runs through the lineup. They nod their heads and stand taller, trying to earn my respect. All but one. Jessa is staring daggers at me. “I don’t accept mediocrity. Is that understood?” “Yes, sir.” The head chef speaks on behalf of the entire staff. “Excellent. Glad we understand each other. Good luck with service tonight,” I say. The head chef, a portly older man, gives me a deep nod and then snaps his fingers. The staff marches out after him. Jessa lingers against the wall, waiting for the rest of her workmates to disappear into the kitchens. The moment the door closes on them, she walks right up to me. “You did this!” she says, jabbing her finger into my chest. “I wasn’t thanking you,” she hisses. “You’re an asshole.” I hear Lev chuckle from somewhere behind me. It’s clear Jessa hears him, too. Her frown sharpens, but she keeps her eyes fixed on me. “What the hell are you playing at?” “I have no idea what you’re so upset about. I gave you a job.” She rolls her eyes like I’m playing dumb. “Yeah, because you’re the kind of guy who just hands out favors with no strings attached. Yeah f*****g right, Anton. You always want something in return. You should get ‘Quid Pro Quo’ tattooed on your damn forehead.” I smirk. “So you’re not totally clueless.” “I’m not giving you back the phone,” she snaps. “No.” She grits her teeth and jerks her chin out at me defiantly. “Giving me this job changes nothing. I’m sticking to my guns.” She frowns. “Is that a threat?” “You’re underestimating me,” she asserts. “I’m not as weak-willed as the skanks you’re clearly used to spending time with.” I have to bite back a laugh. “If you only knew.” Her expression falters. She wipes it clean and glares at me again. “Can’t wait for tonight to be over so I never have to see you again.” My smirk grows. “I wouldn’t be so sure. This is less of a finale and more of a trial run.” She frowns, but she can’t help asking, “What?” “I have a job offer for you. I need a chef in my home.” Jessa barks out a derisive laugh right in my face. “Yeah, well, you can take that job offer, fold it ‘til it’s all corners, and shove it up your ass.” With that, she turns towards the kitchen doors. For a moment, I consider reeling her back, pressing her up against the wall, and tasting the anger on her lips. She’d fight back, but that is all part of the foreplay when it comes to her and me. Stoking the flames. But now is neither the time nor the place. I take a deep breath and let her go. Even though my c**k is throbbing painfully in my pants. Lev clears his throat behind me when she’s gone. “Like I said, playing with your food.” I turn to him. “Excuse me?” He gives me a skeptical look. What’s with everyone looking at me like I’m stupid tonight? “You and I both know that if you really wanted that phone back, you could get it. You could have gotten it a week ago.” “So the only reason you’re prolonging this little game is because you like interacting with her.” I glance towards the door she disappeared through and say nothing. Lev sighs. “I’ll admit, she certainly is… intriguing,” he concedes. “Feisty. A bit like Marina in that way.” That makes my jaw clench tight. “Marina was a spoiled brat who didn’t work a day in her life. Jessa knows about hard work. She’s not entitled the way Marina was,” I say. “She’s strong-willed.” “So was Marina,” Lev points out. “Exactly. The two of you were too alike to ever really work.” I throw Lev a glare. “f**k you.” He laughs. “I get it. You’ve found a pretty new toy to play with. And honestly, after all the s**t you went through with Marina, you deserve it. But all I’ll say is… be careful.” “I know you are,” Lev says. “But this girl might be a handful. I can sense it.” I raise my eyebrows, understanding his deeper meaning. “This is not like Marina, Lev.” He shrugs. “If you say so.” “I do say so,” I tell him. “Now, go get me the manager in charge of the catering staff. I want a quick word.” Lev smirks. “As you wish, Don Stepanov.” “And once you’ve spoken to the manager, head to hotel management and let them know that they can cut two of the waiters off the roster for tonight.” He opens his mouth to ask why, then thinks better of it. “She was right,” Lev says instead. “You really are an asshole.” He shakes his head and leaves, laughing the whole way out. A few minutes later, a woman in a skirt suit walks into The Gilded Room. Her makeup is caked on thick and her hair falls around her shoulders in unnecessarily voluminous waves. “Good evening, sir. I’m Eloise Manor, the manager for tonight,” she says. “I was told you wished to have a word with me?” I nod. “I need a favor, Eloise. No questions asked.” She looks instantly intrigued. “Of course, sir. Whatever you like.” “It turns out an illness took out a few of the waitstaff for tonight. I’m going to need one of your people to exchange their whites for a waitress uniform.” “I’m sorry?” she says, frowning. “This is the first I’ve heard—” “It happened. This is the solution. I’ve already picked who I want to serve us.” “The sous chef,” I say. The woman stares at me for a long moment, clearly shocked. But she remembers her assignment well. No questions asked. She smiles politely and nods. “Whatever you want, sir.” I nod back. “Excellent answer.” I stand gaping at Eloise for far too long. Part of me expects her to bust out laughing, because this has to be a joke. I shake my head. “I don’t understand.” Eloise sighs. “I don’t know what to tell you. The client made a request, and I couldn’t say no. I mean, c’mon, Jessa—this is The Plaza.” “Exactly! How can The Plaza be short-staffed?” I demand. “It doesn’t make sense.” “No, it doesn’t,” she says, pushing a new uniform into my hands. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re waitressing tonight. I’m sorry. My hands are tied.” She pulled me to a back corner of the massive kitchen to give me the news, but the entire staff is still watching. People who work in food and bev are the nosiest people on the planet. Penny and Craig are the only two I’m actually friends with, so they’re the only ones who look concerned. The others just look curious. Like gawking at a car crash while you drive by. “Hold on…” I say as something occurs to me. “Did the client ask for me specifically?” “He asked for the sous chef, yes. And I agree it’s odd, but maybe it’s a compliment.” “Excuse me? Which part is a compliment?” “Parties like this are all about appearances. He obviously thought you were the prettiest member of the staff to wait tables for his hoity-toity friends.” I shake my head. “Trust me, this is not about my looks.” “Whatever it is, you’ll still earn the same paycheck, so stop complaining and get changed.” Eloise turns and strides away. I’m left standing there holding my new uniform. Everything in me wants to fight, but I can’t really see a way out of this. I could walk out, but I need this job. Maybe Anton can afford to do whatever he wants, consequences be damned, but I sure as hell can’t. And he knows that very, very well. “You okay?” Penny is looking at the uniform in my hand with a sympathetic expression. “We overheard.” “It’s not gonna be so bad,” Penny says, patting my shoulder. “At least you’ll get to ogle Mr. Eye Candy all night.” I laugh inwardly. Penny wouldn’t understand, but ogling Mr. Eye Candy is the last thing I want to do. I’d rather stab Mr. Eye Candy. “I should get changed,” I say, moving into the dressing room. I’m tired of everyone staring at me like I have the plague. Taking off my sous chef jacket feels like shedding my skin. It’s uncomfortable. Painful, even. But not nearly as painful as putting on my new uniform.