Page 10 of Burning Rivalry

“Claudia Granger, meet my family.” My jaw ached from forcing a smile while introducing the people around the table, especially when Maddie giggled and insisted on taking a video. Children. They didn’t have the first clue.

What was worse? Watching her charm my family or how the light caught her hair and turned it to spun gold? My parents’ obvious admiration or her warm, brilliant smile? There was no peeling my gaze from her as she made her way around the table.

She saved Nonna for last, and the table went quiet. “I am so happy to meet you,” Claudia murmured, taking one of my grandmother’s hands in both of hers. “I understand it’s your recipes that have been adapted for the restaurant. This is a real pleasure.”

What pissed me off more than anything was how sincere she sounded. Mom’s happy little sigh didn’t help matters. Neither did the way Maddie practically swooned with one hand on her chest while she filmed with the other. It was all a big show, nothing more than that. Couldn’t they see it? No, they hadn’t witnessed my pastry chef playing the part of the humble, gracious pseudo-celebrity night after night.

Meaning I had no choice but to grit my teeth and smile through everything, knowing she couldn’t be sincere.

Nonna certainly didn’t, which struck me as strange. My grandmother was usually the sharpest person I knew, the best judge of character. “The pleasure is mine,” she insisted with a gentle laugh, her faded blue eyes shining. “I want you to know I rooted for you all season long.”

Claudia laughed warmly. “Thank you, but I’ll tell you, I thought the show was stressful, but that was before I got here,” she confided in a stage whisper, glancing my way with a comical grimace. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about my Sebastian,” Nonna told her while I silently glowered. “His bark is much worse than his bite.”

“I can handle myself, Nonna,” I reminded her in a gentle voice, though it was Claudia whose gaze I sought and held when her bright, blue eyes locked onto mine at last. “No need to speak for me like I’m not here.”

“Nobody could ever make the mistake of forgetting you’re here,” Claudia assured me with a sickeningly sweet smile. “You are the owner, after all.”

She would do well to remember that, smarting off in front of my family.

Claudia’s jaw twitched, her gaze lingered a beat, and then she turned her attention back to my grandmother. “I’ll keep your advice in mind, though I might get a rabies shot in advance, just to be on the safe side.” They shared another laugh while I finished what was left of the merlot in my glass. Fast friends already. How nice.

Once she was finished kissing Nonna’s ass, Claudia looked over the length of the table, pointedly avoiding my gaze this time. “So, I did something a little different tonight. A slight variation on a seasonal dessert recipe. I hope you don’t mind, but I figured if there’s anyone I would want to sample this, it would be all of you.”

No. She fucking. Didn’t.

“Oh, I can’t wait!” Maddie barely stopped short of bouncing out of her chair. “A new Claudia Granger recipe just for us?”

“Not a new recipe,” Claudia gently corrected while I questioned my hearing because this certainly wasn’t unfolding the way it seemed.

“What is it, then?” I asked, forcing her to look at me again. “Because it sounds a lot like a new recipe if you altered it somehow.”

“It’s a riff,” she replied with that sunny, photogenic smile that twisted my guts. “I’ll let you see for yourselves.”

She glanced toward the kitchen door and crooked a finger to signal two servers who emerged carrying trays laden with plated tarts. “I understand the apple tart is based upon your apple pie,” Claudia explained to Nonna as the tarts were placed before us. “I’ve added a couple of elements. I hope you enjoy it. If you don’t, that’s totally fine. I promise you won’t hurt my feelings,” she added with a soft laugh.

“It smells amazing,” Maddie gushed, picking up her spoon and digging in without hesitation. I waited along with the rest of the family, watching her insert the spoon into her mouth without asking what had been added to the dish. She was that trusting.

Her eyes closed, her body sagged, and I knew what was coming. “Oh my God. What did you do? It’s heaven,” she sighed. The words were barely out of her mouth before she went for a second bite, at which point everyone began tasting for themselves. I took my time, gauging their reactions first, watching as, one by one, they adopted an expression every cook looked for—complete bliss.

“Oh, it’s wonderful!” Mom declared. “There’s a sort of… nuttiness? I can’t put my finger on it.” Her question inspired me to take a bite of what I wished didn’t taste so damn balanced and rich. Was it good news for the restaurant? Sure, but she went over my head to make it happen. The sweet fruit soured in my mouth at the thought.

“Browned butter,” Claudia explained, clearly pleased with herself. “With some shredded gruyere cheese in the crust, the addition of pears along with the apples, and a bit of brûléed finishing sugar. Then, of course, homemade cinnamon ice cream.”

“Browned butter.” Nonna smiled up at her, and envy twisted itself around my heart like barbed wire, digging in, drawing blood. “Why did I never think of that? It’s delicious,” she announced, taking one of Claudia’s hands and squeezing.

“You really think so?” Was that a tremor in her voice? Was it authentic? “I can’t tell you what an honor it is to hear you say that.”

“I am honored you improved upon my recipe,” Nonna insisted. It was a real love fest, in other words, while all I could do was barely hold myself to a simmer as my family lost their mind over a little cheese and butter. I was not a man accustomed to sitting back and accepting shit, yet there was no choice now. Not unless I wanted to come off as a complete asshole in front of people who mattered.

“Truly, adding a new touch to a beloved recipe is one of the things I love most about what I do.” With one last look over the table and an obvious beat during which our eyes locked for longer than necessary, Claudia concluded, “I’m so glad you’re all happy. And I look forward to seeing you all again.”

“I can’t wait to try anything you make,” Maddie assured her, making everyone laugh except me. The most I could manage was a grimace that left my jaw aching. That ache persisted throughout my goodbyes with the family, who asked if they could come back next week. I mumbled a thin excuse about the restaurant being booked solid and the amount of work that would soon go into opening my new location. Neither was a lie, but neither was sincere.

The truth? I couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting through another ass-kissing session.

Although I took my time with the hugs and whatnot, my anger hadn’t cooled by the time I strode from the front vestibule, where I’d waved goodbye to my parents as they drove past, into the kitchen. Heads turned at my entrance. There was only one I was interested in.