CHAPTER TEN
Vincent pops his head out from around the door to his new restaurant. The windows are still covered up with brown paper on the inside, keeping its contents a secret from the public for now. There are several workers in bright orange safety vests working on putting up the restaurant’s sign. It’s in incredibly gaudy cursive letters: Maison de Minuit. I crinkle my nose at the sign.
“House of Midnight?” I say allowed, translating. It makes no sense. Why would you name a restaurant that? One thing’s for sure, Vincent definitely has a weird sense of elegance. He throws his hands up in the air like he’s going to hug me again, but this time, I have no time or space to move out of the way. I’m trapped in an awkward little hug as he squeezes his arms around me tight.
“Claire!” he exclaims. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Didn’t really give me much of a choice,” I mumble.
“Come in, come in.”
I follow Vincent into the restaurant and swallow nervously. It’s beautiful in here. There are a few movers still at work shuffling new tables and chairs around the floor, but the décor inside has me blown away. There’s a small water feature just behind the hostess stand, an area just off to the side with a small stage and dance floor for live music, and there’s a modern fireplace casting a beautiful dance of flickering shadows across the floor.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” Vince hums.
“It’s gorgeous in here,” I agree.
Vince waves a hand towards two massive double doors that I immediately assume lead into the kitchen. He tries to put his hand on my back to guide me, but I step just out of range. He brushes it off like it’s nothing, like he didn’t notice, but I can tell by how the smile has left his eyes that he’s starting to get a bit irritated that he can’t touch me. I won’t let him. I’m here as a professional, nothing more.
The kitchen takes my breath away. Everything about it, from the lights to the tile floors, screams that it’s new and ready to be used. All of the appliances are practically shining, straight out of the box. From where I stand, I can see the massive walk-in freezer. My mind begins to race. I could make something of this place, I could turn this restaurant into my own. It’s so spacious and pristine that I can’t help but imagine myself working here. I would happily work myself to the bone in a place like this. I could create dishes that others have only ever dreamt about. I could earn fantastic rating after fantastic rating and Laurence would be so, so proud of me and–
I blink. Laurence. As wonderful as this opportunity may be, I don’t think I would want to work in a kitchen without him by my side. I turn to Vince, who’s been watching me intently.
“What do you think?” he asks me, eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“I think it’s great,” I say. It’s the truth, too. But my heart skips a beat when I open my mouth again, the words on the tip of my tongue. “I think Laurence would like it, too.”
Vincent’s friendly façade falls a bit. I don’t know why I’m surprised. They haven’t been in the same room together for more than fifteen minutes, but I can tell that they don’t like each other. Vincent rubs his face, scratching uneasily behind his ear.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” he says to me, voice low. “This offer is exclusively for you.”
“Laurence is a very capable chef.”
“I’m sure you think that, but I only want to hire you.”
I tilt my head to the side a little and frown. “You’re sure I think that?”
Vincent gives me a half-hearted chuckle. “Look, I know you’re sweet on him, but I’m not going to stick my neck out for a guy whose cooking is subpar.”
“Excuse me? Subpar? We’re both talking about Laurence, right?”
“Oh, come on, Claire,” he groans. “He’s too rigid, too old fashioned. None of his food is inspired. It’s one of the reasons why the Royale has been on a steady decline. Nothing on his menu comes close to impressing me. But you,” he says, jabbing a finger in my direction, “you’ve got talent. As my head chef, you could be the next big thing in the culinary world. This is as good a time as any to jump ship.”
Something in the back of mind snaps. It’s not like Vincent’s insulting me. It’s nothing personal. But it feels personal. How dare he speak about Laurence that way? Laurence could cook circles around him. Laurence is, and always has been, a perfectionist. He knows what he’s doing. I’m working with one of the best. My mind rattles on, hurt by Vincent’s harsh words.
“I don’t believe this,” I huff. “Laurence is an excellent chef.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re sweet on him.”
The color drains from my face. I fold my arms defensively across my chest.
“S-so what if I am?” I snap.
“Come off it, Claire. What do you even see in him? I have it on good word that he’s bossy, he’s stuck up, and he’s just straight up rude.”
“You’ve heard wrong, then. Laurence is the sweetest, most considerate man I’ve ever known.”
“Oh, my God, you’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”
My mouth falls open a little, shocked. “It’s none of your business, Vince.”
Vince takes a step closer to me, and I instinctively take a step back. He has me cornered against a wall, arms outstretched on either side of me leaving no chance for an escape. He glares at me, lips pursed into a thin line.
“I can give you everything, Claire,” he says to me. The words coming out of his mouth sound vaguely like a threat. “Don’t you remember how great we were together?”
“I remember feeling alone,” I tell him flatly. “I remember feeling belittled and worthless around you.”
“I’ve grown,” he insists. There’s something in his eyes that tells me that he’s being genuine. Maybe a little bit desperate. But I’m not having any of it. “I want you back, Claire. Give me another chance.”
I shove at his chest with all my strength, practically throwing him backwards. He stumbles a bit, tripping over his own feet and landing hard on his backside.
“You can’t just dangle an executive position in my face and expect me to be grateful to you, Vince,” I hiss. “Laurence is twice the man you’ll ever be. He respects me, which is more than I can say about you.”
“You’re turning me down?” he growls, snapping his teeth like some vicious animal.
“You bet your ass I am,” I say clearly as I begin to turn and head back out the way I came.
“You’ll be jobless by the end of the month!” he screams at me like a promise. But I’m already headed out the door of the Maison de Minuit.