by A. E. Murphy
“I went to university with the owner’s son a few years back.”
He nods. “Darrick Silver?”
“The one and only. Massive nobhead.”
His bark of laughter confirms his agreement. “The entire family is one ball of nobhead.”
This makes me giggle quietly, purely because of his accent and the fact it didn’t make sense. His smile of pride at his ability to make me laugh only makes me giggle harder.
“We shall go, eat, have a drink or two as we socialise with idiots and then return to the restaurant. Good?”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
My phone starts to vibrate in my clutch. It startles me and for some reason I panic as I try to pull it from my bag and drop it between the seat and the console.
“Oops.”
“You have little fingers; you can reach it,” Kerim laughs as I twist to try and pull my glowing phone from its dark grave.
When I finally grasp it and slowly pull it up, I look at Nathan’s handsome face on the screen and notice I answered the call about twenty four seconds ago.
The second I utter a breathless, “Hey,” he yells, “Who the fuck is that?”
“It… it’s Kerim.” I respond, startled at the anger in his tone. I’ve never heard such an angry tone come from him. Well, not for a long time.
“Why are you with Kerim on your own?” He still sounds angry. His tone is menacing, fuelled by jealousy.
“We’re going to a restaurant opening.”
“A what?” He snarls.
“Stop speaking to me like that. It’s for work.”
“You’re being wined and dined… for work?” His sceptical tone is completely unwarranted.
“I tried to tell you.”
“Did you? Where in your messages does it say that you’re going on a date with your boss for work?”
Kerim curses in Turkish and I only know it’s a curse because he uses it on Harold frequently. “Shall I talk?” He whispers but I wave him off. I feel so embarrassed.
“I’ll call you later,” I whisper to my future husband, wishing I knew what had gotten into him.
“Don’t you dare hang…”
The line goes dead when my thumb shakily hits the red button on the screen to end the call. I’m unsurprised when he calls back immediately but I am worried. This is unlike him. He has never reacted so untrustingly and so unstably towards me or anything I’ve ever done. The shock of his reaction is sending painful tingles over the surface of my skin.
“Are you okay?” Asks Kerim softly as I take a few calming breaths.
“Yeah, he’s just tired. He’s not usually so hostile.” I make out like it isn’t bothering me and I can’t tell if he believes me or not. “I’m hungry; do you think the food will be good?”
“I hope not or we’ll lose even more business.”
“Such bad sportsmanship.”
“I never claimed to be a good loser.”
“Have you ever lost?”
He thinks on it for a moment as he navigates the car through the dark, complicated streets of the city. “No.”
“Unsurprising.”
“You like my food?” He grins as though this is a huge success.
“I love your food.”
“So does everyone.”
“So why’d you ask if you were so sure I’d like it?”
His grin widens. “I like to have my ego stroked, especially before entering the presence of an adversary.”
“You’re such a guy.”
“Sexism,” he cries loudly. I slap his arm, laughing so hard I can hardly breathe. “Assault!”
“Stop,” I plead, forgetting about my phone and the conversation with my fiancé. That is, until it vibrates again.
We both sober and just as I reach for it, Kerim picks it up and holds the power button. It switches off and I just blink with shock when he drops it into the pocket on the inside of his door.
“Do not worry; there is no use battling him tonight. When a man is that fuelled by jealousy, there’s no reasoning with him. There’s no facing it over the phone. It will only escalate if you answer that call.”
He’s right, I know he is, but I feel as though Nathan deserves my attention. It won’t do any good, I know it, yet I yearn to explain myself.
“We’ll have a good night. Try not to think about it.”
I need a drink. A large one.
Maybe then my mind can be at ease. Until then, all I’ll hear in there is Nathan’s angry tone. It shakes me deeply.
The restaurant is stunning, though not as stunning as ours.
I feel like a celebrity as we walk along the sidewalk on a glittery red path leading to the main doors of the restaurant, set in thick grey stone. People loiter around, sharing smiles and cigarettes which fog the air. I’m thankful to be inside and away from the stench, though I doubt it bothers Kerim as he’s a smoker himself.
A firm hand rests on the small of my back as I’m guided into the restaurant.
“Glitter,” Kerim scoffs after we’ve been led to a table and we’re away from the ears of the servers and hosts. “Tacky.”
“I like it,” I smirk, knowing it’ll annoy him. He only rolls his eyes and clucks with displeasure. “They’re very formal.”
“Too formal, it’ll scare people away.”
“They can probably afford to.”
“Hmm.” He looks around and then orders us drinks after clicking his fingers at a passing waiter. I just know that he’s disapproving of the fact that they didn’t ask us immediately after seating us, but this place is packed to the brim. I see the servers, dressed head to toe in tailor cut uniforms, glancing over at us with panic every so often. They have obviously been told who Kerim is.
“Relax.” His warm hand suddenly closes over mine. It isn’t until he does this that I realise I have been tapping my fingers against the wooden table top. “Your vodka will arrive shortly.”
“Vodka?” I choke. “I haven’t drunk spirits in years. I’ll topple.”
“You are eating soon; you’ll be fine.” He looks over the menu, his eyes set again with disapproval which often switches to amusement and then back again. “That’s if I can find something I desire.”
“Just pick already.” My stomach growls its agreement. “I fancy chicken.”
“Chicken what?”
“I don’t know… chicken something.”
“Attitude,” he says but his smile tells me he’s not upset by it. “You’re sassy when you’re hungry.”
“The term is hangry and yes, yes I am.” Finally our drinks arrive.
The female waitress bows slightly as she speaks. “Mr Silver says he’ll be with you as soon as you’ve finished your meal.”
“Tell him not to worry. I have to leave to attend to my own restaurant. I will call him later.”
“Erm… sure,” she stammers, looking flustered. “Enjoy your meals.”
“They haven’t arrived yet because we haven’t ordered them,” he points out and I kick him under the table. The poor girl looks as though she wants to cry. He grins at me and I know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to her.
When she’s gone, as much as I want to tell him off I can’t. It’s too funny.
“So what are we eating?”
“Silver will send us something.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’d do the same.”
Oh.
“I’m very impressed with your orders.”
His change of subject catches me off guard. “Sorry?”
“The meat and fish you have been choosing. I will be honest.” He steeples his fingers beneath his chin and scans my face, for what I don’t know. “I make the orders. I go out after you’ve put the order in and I check every single ounce of meat that you have chosen. To date I’ve only changed a handful of things. These last few times I haven’t manipulated an order at all.”
“Oh.” I’m speechless and also thrilled.
“Yo
u have talent. I’m glad you’re working in my kitchen.”
My face burns from the strain of holding back my smile.
“Which brings me to my next question…” When he leans back, a server I didn’t see places our drinks before us. I have a sparkling water in one glass and a small sip of vodka in the other. Both glasses are made of such beautiful, patterned crystal. “Eyes.”
“Sorry?”
“I want your eyes.”
What the fuck?
He laughs at my bemusement. “I mean I want to see your eyes.”
“Oh.” I make contact and hold it.
“Better. Now. What are your plans after I’ve trained you?”
“I…” I sip my vodka. “I haven’t really thought about it. I didn’t think I’d get this far, if I’m totally honest.”
He dips his head, his eyes still on mine. “Do you want to stay and work in my kitchen?”
My jaw hits the floor. Is he serious? I think I might be on the verge of having an excitement attack, which I assume is much like a panic attack except I’ll be smiling while I’m dying of suffocation. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Or are you planning on opening your own restaurant?”
“And compete with you? I’d fail.”
Breaking eye contact, he laughs and looks at his phone before stuffing it back in his pocket. “You don’t know your talent or worth.” He brings his glass to his lips. The amber fluid is gone in a second and he’s chasing it down with a sip of my water. “That’s excellent whiskey.”
“It’s Jack Daniel’s,” I point out. “Hardly fancy.”
“No, but still excellent.” He takes another sip of my water before sliding it back to me. “Where is our food? I need a cigarette.”
“You should quit.”
“So you’ve said.” My cheeky grin shines at him, though it vanishes when he pushes, “So, your plans?”
“Honestly, I haven’t thought about it.”
“Well, I’m offering you full time employment in my kitchen. Eventually I’d like you standing by my side.”
I’m not sure how to take this. “Standing by your side?”
“Perhaps one day we can enter a partnership.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’ll be head chef, side by side, tackling the culinary world.”
My lips form an O. He’s serious. I feel like crying with excitement. “What about Patience? Harold?”
“They’re excellent but they’re not you.”
“Not me?”
We’re interrupted by a delightful, warm scent as our food is placed before us.
“The first course,” Kerim states. I look down at a simple pate with redcurrant jam and what looks to be freshly made, thinly sliced bread. “I’m impressed with the presentation.”
“Me too,” I say, distracted from our prior conversation by the delicious looking food. “Can I eat?”
“Go ahead.”
The food, I’m horrified to admit because Kerim is really annoyed by it, was beautiful. Never have I ever tasted such beautiful chicken. It’s as if Silver read my mind.
Kerim thinks so too because he’s done nothing but mutter in Turkish since we left.
The dessert was glorious too.
“That was fun.” I break the almost silence.
He doesn’t look pleased with my words.
“It was more fun when you were being fun.”
I feel his anger begin to dissipate.
“I’m still fun,” he whines, his voice high.
“You’re grumpy is what you are. You shouldn’t be grumpy, not after that cake.”
“That was good cake,” he mumbles so quietly I can barely hear him.
“Didn’t it feel good to admit that?”
He rolls his eyes and rolls the car to a stop at a red traffic light. “Quiet.”
“But I’m so much fun.”
“It was good, wasn’t it?”
I nod, yes.
“Better than mine?”
“Not a chance.” I smile and place my hand on top of his on the gear stick. I don’t know why I’m touching him but now that I am I wish I hadn’t made the decision to. “His is good; yours is life-changing.”
When he turns his hand beneath mine, grips my fingers and brings my hand to his lips, I find myself struggling to breathe. This just became so inappropriate so fast and I think I may have instigated it.
“Sweet Gwen,” he murmurs and places my hand onto my lap.
I release the breath I was holding as he moves the car. Now I simply feel embarrassment, an emotion I’ve been feeling a lot as of late.
The way he placed my hand on my lap and patted it as though to make it stay…does he think I’m trying to push things with him? If so, that wasn’t a very subtle rejection. At least now I can safely say the kiss he placed was purely one of a gentlemanly kind and not one of lust.
My heart feels a little less heavy.
My mind feels a little less heavy too now that the vodka is swimming around up there.
Chapter Thirteen
I don’t turn on my phone at all for the rest of the work evening. My hands are shaking as I carry it into the house. In fact, I’m so focused on the phone in my hand finally turning on that I don’t notice the light come on as I enter.
A jolt strikes through me when I feel Nathan at my back the second I close the door. His hands turn me and press me against the door and his forehead presses against mine.
“Don’t you ever… EVER,” he shouts the word, forcing me back against the door. “Turn your phone off again.”
“I…”
“You’ve no idea what’s been going through my head.”
“Like what?” I snap, angry that he thinks he can even begin to tell me what to do. I shove him back, not hard but just enough for him to release me.
His eyes become wide with shock. Then he spits a ridiculous, “He wants you.”
“What?” I laugh incredulously.
“Kerim.”
“Oh… Nathan. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” He frowns, looking at me as though I’m the crazy one.
“Don’t become this guy.” I step around him and move towards the kitchen. My body is weary. I should be happy to see him but instead I’m just tired.
“What guy?”
“This paranoid, untrusting being that I can’t live with.”
His silence seems to cool the air. I turn to face him, leaning on the bar that’s now between us.
“I’m exhausted,” I admit.
“What?”
“I said I’m exhausted. I’ve been at work all day.”
“Not all day,” he mumbles petulantly and leans his back against the wall.
“Why did you come back? You have an early start today, don’t you?” I glance at the clock and wince when I see that it’s nearly one in the morning. Why must we serve food so late?
“Aren’t you happy to see me?” He seems less angry and more concerned now.
I shrug. “I would have been, had you not pushed me up against the door the second I walked through it and started telling me off like a fucking child.”
“Then answer your phone!”
“Why? Because you’ll think I’m fucking my boss if I don’t?”
His eyes become narrow slits, shooting dangerous vibes directly at me. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. You said it earlier when I was in the car with him.”
“I’m not allowed to get jealous?”
“You are, but not at the expense of my bloody job. Or your own bloody sanity.”
His teeth sink into his lip and then release it as we stare at each other. “Will you come here?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I’m not in the mood.”
“You…” He stammers as though trying to find the right words. “You aren’t in the mood?” Taking a step forward, he places his hands on the bar between us. I lean back
, needing distance. “I’m worried.”
“I hate that you’re worried,” I state honestly, “but I’m not just hugging and hoping this will go away.”
“What happened between you both?”
Oh my god. “NOTHING!” I bellow, ripping the grips from my hair and dropping them on the bar.
“Gwen, that’s disgusting.”
“Clean it up then,” I hiss and stomp around him.
He grips the back of my top, stopping me from leaving, and gently wraps his arms around me, just under my breasts. I feel his chin on my shoulder and his warm, slow breath fans across my cheek.
“I’m worried.”
I sag a little. His words, though repeated, cut through me worse this time than the last. “Don’t you trust me?”
“I do but it’s the images…” His lashes tickle my neck when he buries his eyes between my ear and shoulder and gently rocks us. “I just can’t get them from my mind. The picture of you and him doing things, in his car or…”
“Stop.” I pull free and turn to face him. His words bring back memories of when he thought Caleb and I had had sex in the car. His eyes seem so worn and sorrowful, it breaks my heart. “You humiliated me today. He heard everything.”
“I know.” He doesn’t seem fazed by this at all, which is extremely irritating.
“How?”
“Because he didn’t answer his phone either.”
Now I’m really angry. “You called him?”
“I’m sorry, I…”
“No. I am mortified. Absolutely mortified.”
“Me too, but I got scared. I didn’t know you’d be with him.”
“Because you didn’t call!” I whisper shout. “I’ve texted you and you didn’t respond.”
“Why not tell me in the text?” He folds his arms over his chest and raises a brow. Unfortunately my silence prolongs his look. “If it was all so innocent…”
“Don’t flip this around onto me! I didn’t text you because I wanted to talk to you. You know I’m not a fan of texting.”
“Convenient.”
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to punch him in the nose more than I do right now. I’ve never been a huge fan of texting and he knows it. “You are infuriating.”
“Did anything happen between you both?”
“Nathan!” I cry, annoyed and upset by his question. I feel winded.