Page 73 of The Unwilling Bride
"I ask for nothing less than perfection of myself and those around me."
"Yes. Yes, I’m aware that’s your personal motto." I scowl.
"And sometimes… No, most times, in order to do that, I have to put pressure on people."
He releases a slow breath, as if he’s fighting for patience.
"You realize, your ideas of how to get your team to deliver are archaic?”
"But effective." He folds his arms across his chest, a sneer curling his lips.
He’s implying that it’s won him three Michelin stars, the highest honor in restaurant circles.
"It’s understandable that you attribute your slavish attention to detail and the callous way you treat your team as the reason for your success, but?—"
He tilts his head. "But?"
The haughtiness in his eyes makes me almost lose my courage to speak. But I haven’t come this far without learning how to hold my own.
So even though it makes me flinch, I meet his gaze. "If you had a more humane approach, you’d see the same results but have a happier kitchen."
I expect him to have a scathing rejoinder.
Instead, he lowers his arm to wrap his fingers about his tumbler and study its contents for a few seconds.
The silence stretches.
He didn’t completely disregard what I said, so that’s a start.
Despite myself, my curiosity stirs. I want to ask how this marriage would even work.
But saying yes would be a huge personal risk.
I'm the only woman in the kitchen. If I married my boss, it would look like I slept my way to the top.
And even if I could get past the scandal, there’s another question.
What’s in it for me?
17
James
“Those things will kill you.”
She eyes me disapprovingly as I slide a cigarette from the packet in my pocket.
We’re standing outside The Famous Cock with the rest of the smokers, most of whom are juggling a pint in one hand and a cigarette in the other like it’s an Olympic sport.
“I’m trying to quit.” I wave the unlit cigarette in the air.
“But you’re holding a cigarette.”
“It’s reverse psychology. If it’s within reach, I feel reassured and don’t actually smoke it.”
She knits her brows. “And you think that’ll help you quit?”
“Haven’t smoked one of these in a year.” I study the cigarette for a moment, then place it between my lips.
