JULIEN WALKED INSIDE the space that had become a second home to him since moving to Chicago, and took in the familiar and comforting atmosphere of the kitchen that greeted him.

Along three of the outer walls ran stainless-steel food-prep stations in the shape of a horseshoe, and at the far end was the hand- and dish-washing area. In the center of the kitchen, where the true magic happened, there were four industrial-sized gas ranges with ovens facing one another, and overhead were the enormous exhaust hoods to funnel out the steam and heat produced over the course of hours spent on prep and cooking.

Under the counters were the pots, pans, mixers, and food processors—anything and everything one would need to make it through a night of cooking in a five-star restaurant. But Julien led Robbie past all of that to the walk-in refrigeration unit where they could decide what they were going to cook today.

“Have you ever been in a restaurant’s kitchen, princesse?”

“Only in my dreams,” Robbie said, and when Julien looked at him over his shoulder, Robbie grinned. “Okay, that would be a no. But I feel like I practically lived in one for months because I watched this show where a super-hot French-American chef won. You might’ve heard of it.”

Julien rolled his eyes and continued over to the fridge. “You might want to retie that coat of yours. It’s a little chilly in here,” he said, and then unlocked and opened the locker door to walk inside.

“Wow,” Robbie said, and knotted the belt at his waist as he stepped in behind Julien and looked at the rows of food in front of them.

“Right now we only have the bare minimum of everything, so the crew can familiarize themselves with the menu we’ll be serving. But if you have an idea of something you’d like to cook, let me know and I can see if I have what we need.”

Robbie scanned the shelves in front of him, and as he walked deeper into the unit, Julien watched him go, curious what he would pick out for them.

“Did you always want to be a chef?” Robbie asked, as he walked past a shelf full of colorful fruits and vegetables.

“Always,” Julien said, as Robbie picked up a cantaloupe and brought it to his nose.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Almost every memory I have as a child somehow involves food. Whether it be cooking it or eating it. My dad worked a lot and my mom loved to cook. So she and our chef, Aurélien, would teach Jacquelyn and me their favorite recipes. It seemed like a natural choice in the end.”

“They must be very proud of you, then,” Robbie said, as he put the fruit back on the shelf.

Not even a little bit, Julien thought, but said nothing as Robbie continued to pick up different pieces of produce to examine. He wasn’t about to lay all of that history at Robbie’s feet today—not now. He wanted to share his passion for cooking and creating, give Robbie a chance to breathe after the heaviness he’d walked into last night with Priest. But as Julien stood there, he was finding it difficult to push aside the memories now invading his personal space.

“They live in L.A., right? Your parents?” Robbie continued, unaware of the emotions his questions were bringing to the surface, and Julien could tell he wasn’t asking to be pushy or nosey but because he truly wanted to know more.

“That’s right,” Julien said, and knew this would be the perfect time to ask Robbie if he wanted to come with them next week when they flew out there. But again, if he did that, then he’d have to get into why they were going. And he wasn’t quite ready to go there just yet. “What about your parents?”

“They live in Oshkosh. It’s a couple of hours out of Chicago.”

“Ah, so not far, then.”

Robbie shook his head. “Nope, not far at all. My sisters live there too, which makes me kind of sad, because I don’t get to see them as much as I’d like. But as they always point out, I’m the one who moved away, not them.”

“Why?” Julien asked, as Robbie picked up a bunch of spinach and headed back toward him.

“Why did I move?”

“Oui. You seem to have a wonderful relationship with your family, so I’m curious. If you don’t mind me asking.”

Robbie stopped and tapped the spinach against Julien’s chest. “Why, the men of course, Mr. Thornton. The selection of hot gay males in Oshkosh is minimal, to say the least, but Chicago? That’s a whole other ball game.” Robbie laughed when he realized what he’d said. “And yes, that pun is most certainly intended.”

“I’m going to try and rein in the impulse I have to be jealous right now,” Julien said as he took the greens from Robbie.

“Why? I don’t mind,” Robbie said with a cheeky grin. “I love knowing that you wish I was only yours.”

Julien leaned in and kissed Robbie’s lips. “You’re only mine now. I suppose that will have to do, won’t it?”

“Well, yours and Priest’s.”

“What’s his is mine,” Julien said without pause. “It’s one of the things I love best about our relationship.”

Robbie smiled against Julien’s mouth. “It’s one of the things that I love best too.”

“Bien.”

“That means good, right?”

“Right.”

“Bien.” Robbie pulled back so he could look into Julien’s smiling eyes, and then pursed his lips. “You two, you’re so…unlikely.”

“I suppose we are. But we had an unlikely beginning, if you’ll recall.”

“Oh, I remember. Stealing Priest’s car? I’m never going to forget that. I bet he was so pissed off.”

“He definitely wasn’t pleased,” Julien said. “But I guess he had good reason. I was a bit of a delinquent.”

Robbie started to laugh. “Umm, you think? I mean, how did you even end up together after that? It’s not like you could just call and be like, ‘Hey, remember me? I’m the guy who tried to steal your car.’”

“Not true. I did call him.”

“You did? Tell me,” Robbie said, and tugged on Julien’s sweater. “I love hearing about how you two met.”

Julien grinned at Robbie’s pout and wondered if he’d ever be able to resist that face. “Do you?”

“I do. It helps me understand the both of you so much more. Plus, I love imagining Priest all pissy and you charming your way into his pants.” Robbie’s eyes widened. “Ooh, you are going to tell me about that, right? Your first kiss? Your first…getting naked together.”

“I’m sure it will come up eventually.”

“Oh, I’m positive that I’ll be up if you’re telling that story. But just to be certain, can you be sure to use several descriptive French words when you do? You know, to further my education.”

Julien chuckled at Robbie’s audaciousness. “I promise. But to answer your question about why I called him again, I got myself arrested.”

“What? Like, on purpose?”

Julien nodded. “Uh-huh. I wanted to see him again.”

“And that was the only way?”

Julien started to really laugh. “The only way I could think of at the time. Looking back now, it probably wasn’t the smartest move I could’ve made, because after that, Priest was convinced I was a criminal. He loathed me.”

“No,” Robbie said, shaking his head. “There’s no way he ever looked at you other than the way he does now.”

“And how does Priest look at me, princesse?”

“Like you’re everything he needs to survive another day.”

Julien placed the spinach on the shelf beside him, and then reached for Robbie’s cool hands. “Not everything,” he said, as he bent his head and blew a warm breath over their joined hands. “I’m not you.”

Robbie took in a shaky breath, and Julien raised his eyes to see that Robbie’s had glazed over.

“That’s a different conversation altogether, though. I believe we all need each other to survive. That’s why fate put us in one another’s path.” Robbie swayed a little toward him, and Julien brought their hands up to kiss his knuckles. “Priest bailed me out of jail the second time we met. Then he drove me home and told me to never call him again.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.”

Robbie scoffed. “Clearly you ignored him. Let me guess, you asked him out on a date instead?”

Julien gave Robbie a stunned look. How on earth did he know that? It was as if Robbie was so well attuned to Julien that he already knew who he was without further explanation. Julien had only ever met one other who’d known him that well that fast—the man he’d ended up marrying.

“I did,” Julien finally answered. “Don’t ask me why. It was clear that Priest wanted nothing to do with me. But I’d been taking stupid risks for months leading up to then, and it seemed no worse than getting drunk and arrested. What was the worst he could do? Say no? Doubtful. I knew he was interested in me.”

A smile slowly curved Robbie’s lips. “So cocky. I love it.”

“Priest might be good at denying himself what he wants. But his body language told a whole other story.”

“Oh my God. I know, right? Whenever he used to argue with me, he was always staring at my mouth. I totally knew he wanted to kiss it or fuck it. He wasn’t fooling anyone,” Robbie said, and then laughed with devious glee. “Sooo, what did he say when you asked him out? I bet it was something totally jackassy, wasn’t it?”

“Oui,” Julien said, floored again by just how intuitive Robbie was when it came to them. “It most certainly was. But then, we wouldn’t want Priest any other way, would we, princesse?”

“THIS ISN’T WHERE I dropped you last time.”

Julien looked over at his driver, Priest, who sat behind the wheel of his flashy import with a scowl on his face as he navigated the streets leading them up to Bel Air Road. He’d had the same dour expression for the past thirty minutes, ever since the police officer had opened Julien’s jail cell and set him free, and he reminded Julien of a statue—a silent, scowling statue.

“I know,” Julien said, and then pointed to the next street. “Take a left here.”

Priest turned where he was told and continued along the road that bisected the mansions up on this particular stretch, and Julien knew it was now or never to work out a way to see Priest again, or he was going to be tossed out on his ass before he knew it, and that would be the end of that.

“Have you ever been up here before?” Julien asked, as they passed by several gated driveways.

“No.”

Julien smirked at the one-word response. “Impressed?”

Priest slid a look his way and said, “Less and less with every passing second.”

Julien laughed and wasn’t really sure why he found this man so amusing…or intriguing. It was obvious Priest didn’t like him, not even a little bit, but… “I like you, Mr. Priest.”

“It’s Mr. Priest-ley. And the feeling is not mutual, I assure you.”

Julien ran his eyes down Priest’s profile and lingered on his stern lips before he murmured, “Ça le sera.”

“What was that?”

“What?”

“What you just said?”

Julien pointed out the windshield at a driveway with iron gates and lights flanking either side of it. “You can pull in just here.”

Priest brought the car to a halt in the drive, the headlights illuminating the winding road that led up to a mansion on the hill. Julien went to open the door, but before he could, Priest reached out and took hold of his arm, halting him.

“I asked you what you said back there. You have a nasty habit of switching to French when you’re being a smartass.”

Julien lowered his eyes to the hand on his arm. Jesus, it felt as though he was connected to an electrical socket with the energy coursing through him at Priest’s touch. “I also switch to French when I’m turned on. Ce que je suis en ce moment précis.”

Priest arched a cool eyebrow and removed his hand, then he looked out the windshield to the gates up ahead.

“Whose place is this?” he asked, ignoring Julien’s words and the obvious sexual tension that crackled and sparked between the two of them like a live wire.

Julien shook his head, more disappointed than he realized he would be at the dismissal, and then pushed open the door and climbed out. As he shut it behind himself and headed toward the gates, he heard a second car door open but didn’t stop.

“Mr. Thornton, I asked you a question,” Priest called out, as Julien reached the iron fence, grabbed a hold of the bars, and then scaled it before jumping down and landing on the other side.

The crunch of gravel underfoot had Julien turning to see Priest storming toward the gate, and when he reached it, Julien came up to the other side opposite him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Priest said. “I just bailed you out of jail. I don’t relish the idea of getting another phone call in an hour because you’ve been picked up for breaking and entering someone’s home.”

Julien laughed and found it surprising that out of all the people, it was this man who had made him do so again. How was it that around Priest he remembered how to breathe? How to stop being so…sad all the time? “Watch out, monsieur. You almost sound worried about me.”

“Hardly,” Priest said, and wrapped his hands around the bars of the gate. “I’m just sick of looking at you through iron bars.”

Julien stepped in close until the only thing that prevented them from being toe to toe was the gate. “Then maybe next time we meet, we’ll have to do it with nothing between us.”

Priest’s jaw ticked as he scanned Julien’s face, the headlights of his car lighting the two of them up as though they were actors on a stage.

“You’re trying my patience, Mr. Thornton. Whose house is this?”

Julien wanted to ask what happened when Priest’s patience ran out, but instead said, “If I tell you that, my mystique will vanish and the likelihood you’ll want to see me again will vastly drop.”

“Trust me,” Priest said, “that isn’t dependent on the answer to this question.”

Julien let his eyes move to Priest’s mouth, and he wondered how it would feel to have it dominating his own. He imagined Priest would kiss the way he talked—arrogantly. That he would take what he wanted. Would shove his tongue deep inside Julien’s mouth and demand a response.

In fact, Julien would lay bets that Priest would demand a lot from anyone he fucked, and while that had never appealed to him in the past, the thought of being taken by this man made Julien’s cock hard as a rock. It also explained why he did what he did next. “If I tell you whose house this is, will you have lunch with me tomorrow?”

Priest released his hold on the bars and took a step back, slipping his hands into his pockets as though he didn’t trust them out in the open. “Excuse me?”

“Lunch? As in food? Will you eat with me tomorrow?”

“Why?”

Julien now wrapped his hands around the bars where Priest had been holding and leaned in to say, “Because it’s either that or I break another law to see you again.”

Priest’s eyes narrowed to slits, and then he walked back to the gate and covered Julien’s hands with his own.

Putain, Julien thought as he sucked in a breath. What is it about this man? He wanted him in ways Julien had never experienced before.

“I don’t know what’s going through your head right now, Mr. Thornton,” Priest said, and his voice was low and direct and made Julien’s cock ache. “But I don’t date criminals. So if that’s what you want, a date, then you need to turn your life around. Find something you love, or at least like better than yourself right now, and get your shit together. Once you do that, then come see me, and I’ll give you exactly what you’re asking for.”

Julien’s breathing was coming fast now, and he wasn’t sure if it was from arousal or irritation. Likely a bit of both. “And what is that?”

Priest ran his gaze over Julien’s face and then said, “A fucking that will make you forget whatever it is you’re running from. A night that will remind you that you’re alive. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you do all of this? To feel alive again?”

Julien stared into Priest’s eyes and suddenly found it difficult to swallow. How had he turned the tables on him so fast? How could Priest know exactly what he was thinking by this one short conversation?

“You’re incredibly arrogant, monsieur. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Oui,” Priest said, completely throwing Julien off. “And you’re incredibly reckless—lost and reckless. That’s a dangerous combination. One that usually winds a person up dead.”

Julien went to pull his hands back, but Priest tightened his over the top, holding him captive.

“Whose place is this?”

This time, Julien didn’t hesitate to answer. “My parents’.”

Priest’s eyes went beyond Julien’s shoulder to the house, and then he removed his hands and said, “Stay out of trouble, Mr. Thornton.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then don’t call me.” Priest turned and walked back to his car. “You know my deal. You want me, then make an effort, and you just might get me…”

“GOD,” ROBBIE SAID, his mouth hanging open. “I have never met anyone with balls as big as Priest’s. He’s so…so…”

“Everything you’re thinking, oui,” Julien agreed. “But you like it as much as I do. Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Robbie said, and rolled his eyes. “But it’s so infuriating at times.”

“Oh, I agree with that. After he said that to me I remember thinking, One day I’m going to make that man beg to go on a date with me.”

“And did you?”

“Remember when I told you that Priest has only ever worked hard for one other’s attention before you?”

“Yes.”

“Believe me, he eventually begged for a date. But we’ll talk about that some other time.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.”

Julien grinned at Robbie’s cheeky tone. “Maybe you should ask Priest about it sometime.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Make sure I’m there when you do,” Julien said as he brushed his lips over Robbie’s, sealing their devious little plan with a kiss. Then he pointed to the spinach on the shelf and said, “I’m surprised you picked this, considering your recent aversion to greens.”

Robbie examined the leafy vegetable he’d clearly forgotten about, and then, as though a light bulb went off in his head, he raised his hand and said, “No. Wait a minute. I know what I want to make.”

“And what’s that? Tell me.”

Robbie walked off down the aisle where all the cheeses were, and when he came back holding a block of Gruyere, he said, “I want to cook your most ‘meaningful’ meal.”

At Robbie’s words, Julien froze, and like a freight train running right over the top of him, the memory of what Robbie was talking about hit Julien out of nowhere, draining all joy from him.

“Julien?”

Robbie’s voice sounded miles away as Julien reached out and gripped one of the shelves in the fridge, and suddenly the voice of Graham Boyd, the host from Chef Master, was in his ears…

“Tonight on Chef Master you’re going to cook a dish that reminds you of the person you love the most. I want to see you pour your heart and soul into whatever you make, and I want to taste the love. You have sixty minutes to make your most ‘meaningful’ meal and wow me, and your time starts now…”

“JULIEN?” ROBBIE SAID, and a gentle hand on Julien’s arm shook him back to reality. “Julien.”

Robbie’s voice was sharper now, and Julien squeezed his eyes tight, trying to erase the image in his head before he refocused on the man in front of him. “Pardon? Sorry. You caught me off guard.”

Robbie’s worried eyes searched Julien’s face. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked for—”

“Non,” Julien interrupted. “There’s nothing you can’t ask of me. I’m fine.”

Robbie bit into his lip as Julien tried to banish the anxiety threatening to squash him like one would a bug, but still he felt it twitch inside him as though it wasn’t quite dead. Then he forced a smile on his face, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt.

“Okay,” Julien said. “My most meaningful meal, huh? And you remember what that was?”

The smile that tugged at Robbie’s lips was almost shy as he gave a little laugh and said, “Hello, when are you going to understand that you should probably be scared that you’re standing in a lockable room with me right now?”

Julien’s lips twitched. Robbie’s dramatics were exactly what he needed to get his mind off the thoughts trying to swallow him whole. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“Brave, brave man,” Robbie said, but then he grew serious. “Of course I remember this meal. It was the cheese soufflé. It earned you your first win. You made yours with sharp cheddar, pepper jack, and Gruyere, and they looked mouthwatering. That’s what I’d like to learn to cook with you today. If you’ll teach me.”

Julien had known that Robbie was a fan of Chef Master, but was more than a little impressed that he remembered the meals he’d cooked right down to the fine details.

“Of course I’ll teach you,” Julien said, even though he hadn’t cooked this particular meal since the very day Robbie was referring to.

“Thank you,” Robbie said, and his eyes softened with an understanding that Julien wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge. One, he knew, he just might drown in if he let himself.

“Right. Let’s find the rest of the ingredients and get to work on teaching you how to make my famous cheese soufflé, shall we?”