Chapter 6: Cooking for the Chef

*VICKY* Frank led me through the Kingsland Hotel and down a long series of hallways to a private kitchen. When he opened the door, it was like all of my fears and worries about working, especially for Leon, had disappeared. It was every chef's dream—stainless steel appliances, high-end fridges, and endless supplies to make any delicacy imaginable. I had no idea what I envisioned, but this was not it. "This is—wow," I stated as I ran my finger along the matching steel island top. And then the smell hit me again. The Blood Perfume and it was the strongest it had been all day. After my first interview, I had come to realize that the concentration of Blood Perfume increased the closer I was to Leon or places where he spent a substantial amount of time. Considering the density of it here, this was one of those locations. To make sure there was no mistake, I turned and stuffed the nose plug back in when Frank wasn't looking. It would help—at least until I could take another tranquilizer. "Does Leon cook often?" I asked as I set my tool kit down on the counter. "The Chef," he corrected me, "cooks in here from time to time for more…VIP clients and spends a lot of time here on his own accord." So that explained it. Then, immediately switching gears, Frank began pointing to a few items on the counter. "Here are the ingredients you're gonna need. As for what to do with them, it's your call." Holy shit. Beside the stove was a 4-kilogram mighty lobster, a top-quality fillet, and various expensive supplementary ingredients. There was actually caviar…and really good caviar. This thing was more than gold. Just then, the door swung open and in walked Mason, dressed in a crisp, blue, three-piece suit. "Thank you, Frank, for your help. Feel free to head back to the kitchens. I can take it from here." Frank's face contorted ever so slightly—I could tell he was a man who took pride in his work and station within the Kingsland Hotel, and being told what to do, especially by someone who was clearly younger than him, was a massive blow to his ego. But instead of complaining, Frank inhaled and gave a short bow before exiting and leaving me alone with Mason. Mason approached me, his cologne resembling a musky forest, and continued Frank's speech. "You are free to use the equipment and materials here. Press the bell beside you should you need anything. Use the bell over here if you want the dishes served. Oh, and one more thing. Don't start cooking until you're called upon. The boss requires the temperature of the ingredients." I knew Leon was meticulous—it's the reason he's the highest-regarded chef in the city. However, I didn't expect this. Still, it wasn't my place, and if I wanted to keep this job, I needed to swallow whatever was thrown at me. "Do you have any questions?" Mason prompted. Shit, I had zoned out. "Oh…uhm, no, sir," I answered, hoping something wouldn't come up later. "Alright," Mason smiled. "I'll leave you to it. Good luck, Vicky." And with that, I was left to my own devices. Don't start cooking until called upon. I drummed my fingers on the counter, and not long later, found myself staring at the red light in the kitchen, waiting for the signal. It felt like an eternity…and trust me, I knew what that felt like. Then, it suddenly lit up. Finally. I decided to begin with the lobster. I grabbed a pot of water and placed it on the back burner; the clicking sound of the gas stove brought me instant joy. Once the water boiled, I set the lobster in the steamer. I knew what I would do the second I saw what I was working with. The freshest ingredients had to maintain their original taste, providing zest and serving as the base flavor. Next came the beef. I cut the large tenderloin into two parts: one was used to make steak, and the other was used to make my hometown's specialty, Black Pepper Beef Granules. The longer I worked, the more I became accustomed to the heavy Blood Perfume; however, despite my best efforts, it still went straight through my nose and into my head, making me instantly dizzy. When the first course was ready, I rang the service bell. Soon after, Mason appeared and took it out. Maybe I finished quickly, I could get off work earlier for the day and wouldn't have to meet him face-to-face. But as usual, things didn't go as expected. When dessert was finally ready, I was elated, hoping that I could clean up, do the dishes, and then return home. That was until Mason entered. "Vicky, Chef would like you to deliver the last dish yourself. He's in the adjoining room." He had to be kidding me. The universe had to be kidding me. No matter how hard I tried to stay away, it kept pulling me back in. I placed the dessert on a tray and wheeled it to the space next door. I took a deep breath and entered, keeping my eyes cast down on the meal in front of me. "Hello, chef," I began. "I'm glad you enjoyed today's meals. Here is the final dish—a freshly made Black Forest cake with cherry flavoring." I lifted the top of the casing and revealed the perfectly curated piece. God, the fragrance in the room was already making me dizzy. I wanted nothing more than to leave. If I continued to stay here, something would definitely happen. I straightened my stance and folded my hands behind my back. I tried my best to remain calm. When I felt confident enough to look up, I glanced at the dishes on the table and couldn't help but realize how wrong I was. There they sat, still the way I had cooked them. What did I do wrong? The beef was getting cold—what was the point of requesting temperature checks…if he wasn't going to let it sit? "I wanted to test you," Leon began as if he could hear my thoughts. "To see how well you could follow instructions. Please, sit." His voice was stern, and yet, his sentence sounded somewhat of a mix between a statement and a question. I got the impression that Leon asking anyone to do anything was very unheard of—but yet, here it was happening. I lifted my gaze to look at him for the first time that day and found him staring back at me. He was fixated on my features, like he was trying to piece together something about me that he couldn't quite figure out. The Blood Perfume continued to puncture through my nose plugs, and something inside me responded instantly to it and Leon's request. Once I sat, Leon reached out and pushed the first dish in between the two of us and put a set of utensils in front of me. "Eat." The haze lifted for a split second as confusion overwhelmed my mind. "I-I'm sorry, chef?" Leon sat up in his seat and folded a napkin over his lap. "I'm inviting you to have dinner with me." After a while, when I didn't respond, his eyes flipped back to me, immediately prompting butterflies in my stomach. "Well?" I shook my head and pulled the utensils slowly from their sheath before beginning to break apart the lobster. I didn't need to look at him to know Leon was watching my every move. Once I placed a free piece onto the fork and into my mouth, Leon started to mimic my movements. I witnessed the moment when the tenderness of the meat and the rich seafood flavor conquered his tongue. Leon closed his eyes and carefully savored the taste in his mouth. In that moment, I knew that I had accomplished something. Soon after his first bite, Leon dug in for another almost instantly after—my attraction to him growing by the second. Soon enough, I found myself becoming more and more incapable of fighting the smell of Blood Perfume and used my canine tooth to prick at my lip to distract myself. "How is it?" Leon's voice jumped in. I looked up at him—was he really asking me how I felt about my own cooking? I knew my talents and knew that it was entirely delicious. But how do I tell him that? What if he disagreed? Would that make me look bad? Then suddenly, I heard a soft chuckle pulling me from my thoughts. Wait, was he…laughing? Leon adjusted himself in his seat once again, this time falling into a slight hunch. I waited for an explanation, but when it didn't come, I spoke. "Chef?" "Sorry," Leon replied with one last chuckle. "I just thought of something funny." Somehow, that didn't seem true—but I let it go. Leon's laughter slowed and then he sat up in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and interlocking his rough and bandaged fingers. "Do you want to know what I think?" he asked, not breaking eye contact with me. All I could do was nod. "I think you're talented, Vicky. I'm not going to lie—I didn't think you'd be able to make something memorable from the ingredients. But this…well, you impressed me." Did I hear that right? Did I impress 'the' Leon Knightly? Another smile formed on his lips, and he gave a small nod. "You did. Good job." Wait. Am I crazy…or did he—no. I'm definitely crazy. Only there was a certain aura about him that told me otherwise, and how his attention focused on me…it stated that maybe I wasn't wrong about him sensing the Blood Bond between us. The smell grew more intense; our connection was building, and the Blood Perfume was letting me know. I heard from those who had bonded that the more you built a foundation with your mate, the denser their scent grew. They weren't lying. But did that mean we were— "You can't go in there!" Mason's shout from behind the door woke me from my thoughts, and Leon's gaze snapped from mine, creating an unexpected pang in my chest. The office door was forcefully pushed open, and it banged against the wall, with the blinds clashing together in response. I turned around, startled, to find the source of the noise. And there, glaring directly at me, stood Osip.