Heat: A Bad Boy Chef Romance Read Online Free Page A

job to make sure the dish was perfect. Roche took pride in her work. She just needed to learn how to speak up for herself. She’d done that beautifully, then the whole thing blew up in her face.
    I tried to concentrate on the new fry cook. I could smell something burning. If he hadn’t properly cleaned the fryer after last night’s service I’d kill him.
    “What’s burning?” No one answered me. “Hello? Can you not hear me?”
    “I burnt the chicken, chef.”
    I started to lay into him, spelling out every way in which his whole existence was a disaster. My heart wasn’t in it though. I kept thinking about Roche. The way her eyes filled with tears felt like a knife had been plunged into my gut. She was so sure she’d nailed the dish.
    I glanced over at her station half-expecting to see her there, fiercely concentrating, perfecting her work. Instead I was greeted by the lizard smile of Marcel. He was good at his job, never complained or appeared bothered by my demands. He was on time and he worked hard. His food was excellent. And yet, there was something about the little rat I couldn’t stand.
    He nodded to me as I passed. Something didn’t add up. I left the idiot fry cook and headed into the walk-in freezer. I found the extra sauce Roche had prepared. I stuck my finger in and tasted it. It was delicious. It tasted nothing like the previous sauce. How could she have screwed up so badly with the ingredients she used? The sauce we’d served to the customers tasted like it was made with rotten fish heads. This tasted perfect.
    I searched through the freezer. Everything was impeccably organized, the food fresh and clean, ready to be served. I moved a box on the floor and was instantly hit with a fishy smell. There was a white bucket hidden in the corner. I pulled it out and opened the top. I covered my nose. Instantly, I knew it was the source of the Roche’s foil tasting sauce. The bucket was full of dirty, fetid water. A couple weeks ago we’d had oysters on the menu. The shells and bad bits had been discarded into the bucket. For some reason, it was never cleaned.
    I had a hard time believing one of my prep guys would miss something this egregious. They were excellent at their job. More importantly, how had this rotten oyster water ended up in Roche’s sauce?
    No way was it an accident. Did she do it on purpose? Was she trying to sabotage the restaurant because I’d hit on her last night? No. That was insane. Roche looked heartbroken when I sent her home. She wasn’t trying to sabotage me. Someone was trying to sabotage her.

Beatrix
     
     
     
     
     
    I walked in circles. The buzz of the city disappeared into a droning background noise that left me disoriented. I passed in front of the restaurant three times before I realized I was circling around it.
    Fired. After only a day and a half of work. It was pathetic. If word got out, I’d have a hard time finding a job at any respectable restaurant. The only job I’d be able to find would be flipping burgers at a fast food place.
    I finally managed to find my way home. I walked into my place and collapsed on the bed. I buried my face in the pillow and cried until I fell asleep. I woke to someone calling my name.
    “Roche? Are you in there?”
    It was Moreau. What was he doing here? I jumped up and went to the door. He wore a leather jacket and jeans. His hair was shaggy; it hung in his severe eyes.
    “Didn’t you hear me knocking?” he asked.
    “No. I was asleep.”
    “Did you sleep all day?”
    I nodded. He pushed his way inside my apartment. He looked around at the unmade bed and cramped living quarters. There was nowhere for him to sit so he stood in the middle of the room.
    “You’ve been crying.”
    “No, I haven’t,” I lied. “I just woke up, that’s all.” He frowned, clearly not believing me. “I’ve never been fired before,” I added lamely.
    “Whoever said you were fired?”
    I stared at him in disbelief. “You did.”
    “I