The number 13 lit up and I focused my eyes on the doors, counting down the seconds for them to open. I had a feeling Remi had been looking at me our entire walk and now with his little comments on the elevator ride, I was pretty sure he was coming on to me.

 

Even though I found him instantly attractive, his constant advances were starting to get irritating. He was my employer now and if he thought he was going to get away with this kind of behavior he had another thing coming. He must be crazy if he thought I’d fall for his little games. Not only was he being highly inappropriate, I was far too aware of his reputation to let myself go down that road. If we were headed up to his condo it was for work and work only.

 

The elevator doors opened to the foyer of a luxury condo. Based off the building and his semi-private elevator I expected something lavish, but actually stepping inside was different. It had beautiful views with a crisp modern design. It was a lot cleaner than I expected, but then I just assumed he probably had a cleaning staff. I felt Remi gently place his hand on the small of my back to guide me toward the kitchen. There was something about it that made me both cringe and melt into his touch.

 

The moment we walked into the kitchen my jaw dropped. My heart started to race almost as much as it did when I first saw him. The kitchen was huge and open. It was sleek and clean. It had fine steel grey cabinets and luxurious marble countertops. The cooking space was large and flat with two stacked ovens. It had every appliance I would ever need and more than enough space. It was by far the nicest personal kitchen I had ever seen. I already couldn’t wait to start cooking there.

 

What got to me the most about the kitchen was almost entirely sentimental. It had a large, oversized island with a sink in one corner. It looked just like the island counter in my father’s house. It was always my favorite part of that house. That was the kitchen I learned to cook in. I had spent more time than I could keep track of experimenting with my cooking there and fantasizing about the day I’d have one like it in my own place. I walked forward slowly and placed the palm of my hand flat on the kitchen island’s counter top, running it over the smooth surface.

 

It was perfect.

 

“You can order any tools or kitchen gadgets you need,” Remi told me. His voice was close and I felt him standing nearby, giving my heart a start. He had snapped me out of the little trance I had fallen in to.

 

“Okay,” I muttered, eyes still soaking in the magnificent place. It really was the opportunity of a lifetime to practice all of my dishes and not be limited to a menu.

 

“Your room is just down the hall,” he said.

 

I turned to face him and gave a little jump; he was standing even closer than I had anticipated. “My- my room?”

 

“Yes, room and board was part of the deal or did that skip your mind already?”

 

I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t like the condescending tone in his voice. It was like he was talking to some ditsy woman. “I didn’t forget. I just didn’t know it meant moving in here with you.”

 

Remi’s little smirk made my blood boil. “Oh, yes. It means you’ll be living here.” He motioned to our surroundings, “This is your room and board. Sometimes you’ll be cooking late nights and early mornings, so it’s much easier this way.”

 

I wasn’t sure why I was taking that part of the offer. I had my own place to live. Then I thought about my new income and how much more I could save if I didn’t have to pay Chicago priced rent. Besides, I was pretty sure Remi would be demanding and inconsiderate. If I was already around and didn’t have to deal with a commute it might make my life a little easier. My stomach twisted, but I nodded anyway. I turned my attention back to the kitchen, eager to explore. I walked through it to check out all the drawers. I took out each and every knife to appraise it. I checked out his pantry and refrigerator.

 

“Like what you see?”

 

I curled my fingers around the cupboard door and turned to look at him over my shoulder. I could already sense where he was going with this.

 

“Oh yeah, I like big things,” I quipped. I saw his mouth open and his eyebrow arch in pleasant surprise. I turned back to look into the cupboard feeling my face hot and wondering if my little sexual innuendo had been a mistake.

 

“You’ll find plenty of big things here,” Remi assured me cockily. He took a few steps forward, “I can, uh, help you find some of them. Think of it as an orientation.”

 

“I’ve always been more of an independent learner,” I shot back. I hoped that would shoot him down or at least buy some silence for a few minutes. I was wrong of course.

 

“Oh so you like going it alone then,” he muttered. I stopped myself from cringing. “Nothing wrong with that, but it’s also good to work with someone.”

 

“Mhm,” was all I said before walking over and pulling out a drawer. It held the utensils, all neatly arranged in a fancy and expensive-looking tray.

 

I did my best to ignore my racing heart and focused on the cutlery. I had to admit the guy was drop-dead gorgeous, but I wouldn’t have any of it. I was there in a professional capacity and that’s what I would stick to. I pulled out a fork and held it up to examine the intricate pattern on the handle. I held the fork up to the light of the window and something caught my eye; hanging off the back of a chair at the kitchen table was a bra. I scoffed with a bit of a smile.

 

“Unbelievable,” I mumbled under my breath. I walked over and picked the bra up with the fork, holding it up as if it were a flag. “Cross-dressing on your time off?” I asked with an accusatory grin. I knew damn well that wasn’t why there was a bra lying around, but it was a lot of fun to see the shocked look on his face.

 

Remi walked over quickly with a slight hop in his step and snatched the bra off the fork. He threw it in the trashcan before turning to face me. “Do you think I’d look as good in a dress as you?”

 

“Nah. You don’t have my figure,” I smirked.

 

“That’s for sure,” his eyes raked over me from head to toe.

 

I could tell he liked what he saw, but I tried my best not to show what I was feeling. There was a lot of confusion and attraction flowing through my veins. I knew he was bad news so it didn’t matter if he wanted me; I would just end up being another victory notch on his bedpost.

 

“You really know how to work it,” Remi broke the silence.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

He nodded toward the stove and smiled teasingly, “The stove. And other things.” There was a long pause as he leaned forward, “Like the oven and what have you.”

 

I knew he was doing it on purpose especially by the way he kept checking me out. He was brazen and I couldn’t quite figure out if I liked it or hated it. What I did know was that being quick on my feet wasn’t an option here; it was a must.

 

“Oh,” I said, placing my hands on my hips, “I definitely know how to work it or else I wouldn’t be standing in your kitchen.”

 

I didn’t worry about engaging in our flirtatious banter. I didn’t want him to think he could use it as a way to make me feel uncomfortable. The last thing I wanted was to give him the upper hand. He was nothing but a rich playboy and I was going to focus on the only reason I was there—to improve my cooking and get paid for it.

 

“You’re technically in my breakfast nook,” he corrected me.

 

I marched over to the kitchen, right past Remi, and turned to look at him defiantly. “There,” I said, “As your chef this is my place.”

 

“And everything else is too,” he reminded me. He sat down on one of the stools lining the counter on the kitchen island. He rubbed his hand up and down his thigh as he looked me dead in the eye, “You can find your place pretty much anywhere here.”

 

I swallowed and pointedly looked at the windows behind him. I refused to look at the way he was suggesting I take a seat on his lap. There was no way that was going to happen. Finally, I took a few steps forward and placed my hands flat on the surface of the kitchen island. I loved the way the cool marble felt against my skin.

 

“Look,” I said seriously, “I’m here for work and work only. I’m just the chef.”