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Giselle has been my publicist for the last few years and has been trying to help me seem more approachable to the rest of the world. But who needs to be approachable? I'm a chef, for crying out loud. People come to my restaurants all over the world for the experience of eating something created by me, not for me to smile at the cameras and make them fall in love with me.
"I highly doubt that," I mumble before downing the last of my scotch and motioning for the bartender to bring me another. "Teaching has never been my thing."
When Giselle pitched the idea of teaching an elite class of recent culinary school graduates to me a few months ago, I was against it. But in true Giselle fashion, she went ahead with planning it anyway, claiming that this would be good for me. I don't know how she came to that conclusion. I'm one of the best pâtissiers in the world and have more money than I can spend in a lifetime. How could teaching a bunch of brand-new chefs that probably don't know a damn thing about the real world be beneficial for me? I've had enough of people to last me a lifetime.
"It is now," she snipes, leaving no more room for argument. "After what happened with Simone, you retreated into yourself, leaving everyone to wonder if you've lost your touch…"
Her voice trails off as I grip my glass tightly in my hand.
"We both know everything she said is connerie,” I growl, slamming my other fist on top of the bar.Bullshit.
"Yes, we do." She nods, placing her hand on top of mine. "But you need to live again, Bryce. Not all people are out to get you."
"Maybe not, but I refuse to be caught unprepared again,” I scoff, still unsure about when things between my ex-wife and I went to shit.
Simone and I had a whirlwind relationship and got married right after we graduated culinary school before flying off to France with dreams of creating our own culinary empire. At first, things were amazing. Simone created wonderful meals in the kitchen, while I focused on creating original and creative desserts. We were partners. A team. Or at least I was dumb enough to believe that.
After our restaurant was open for a few years, the focus shifted from her culinary dishes to my innovative new ideas for the culinary world. Instead of people flocking to the restaurant to see the both of us, they came to take pictures of me and my desserts. I tried to remind everyone that we were a team, but no one listened, which drove a wedge between the two of us.
Soon after that, she began disappearing, claiming she had late-night meetings or was searching for inspiration in the kitchen. I originally thought she was having an affair, but it turned out to be so much worse. She helped a reporter write a story claiming that I stole all my ideas from her shortly before filing for divorce. Although it was easy for me to refute her claims, they broke me. Instead of climbing out of the ashes a new man, I was broken and found myself unable to trust anyone but Giselle and a few other close friends.
Even five years later, I don't understand why she'd tell the world I stole from her when all I ever did was support her in everything that she did.
"That's why we’ll have all the students sign non-disclosure agreements." Giselle’s voice brings me back to the present.
She smiles, reaching into her briefcase and pulling out a small stack of papers.
"Look at the contract. I promise it will be to your liking. If any of them so much as breathe a word of anything shown in this class without express permission, they can kiss their careers goodbye."
I chuckle softly, grabbing the stack of papers from her hand and flipping through them. "How are you going to convince them to sign this?"
"Because you're that good, Bryce. People have been dying to learn your secrets for years, and now this is their chance." Giselle plants a kiss on my cheek. "Now, look that over and let me know if you want any changes made. I'll have Gabriel make the modifications before classes start."
"Tell your husband I said thanks."
I wink as she spins on her heels and saunters toward the exit with a wave over her shoulder.
Every muscle in my body constricts and my breath hitches in my chest as an angel walks into the bar. Her shoulder-length auburn hair catches the overhead lights as she looks around the room for something, giving me more time to examine her. My eyes roam down her body, which is covered by a cream-colored, knee-length dress that hugs all her curves.
I bite back a groan, dropping my hand beneath the bar and palming the bulge in my pants. My mouth waters as images of her gorgeous body laid out before me, ready for me to feast upon her luscious skin, filter through my mind.
What the hell is wrong with me? I usually have better control over myself and choose to focus on rebuilding my empire instead of getting my dick wet.
After Simone and I split up, I tried to have relationships, but they were never satisfying. Each woman claimed I was too closed-off and unreachable, which was understandable, but they didn't want to wait for me to get over my issues. And who am I to blame them? What I had with Simone was magical, and my heart shattered when everything came crashing down. But this angel standing before me brings out a hunger inside me at just the sight of her across the room.
Her gaze flicks to mine as if I’ve called her name, and she pulls her lip between her teeth before dropping her head downward. The spot over my heart aches at the thought of not being able to catch another glimpse of her. Her lips move for a few moments before she tightens her grip on her bag and heads toward me.
"Is this seat taken?" Her breath hitches as our gazes meet again, and her green eyes sparkle with the same need that’s burning like fire in my veins.
Fuck. I give my cock one final squeeze before sliding the small stool out for her and sending up a silent prayer that I don't blow my load right here. Unable to speak, I shake my head.
"Thank you." She smiles brightly at me. "The thought of sitting all alone at one of those big tables makes me nervous."
I notice her hands shaking slightly before they disappear below the bar and are out of sight.
"I've never been out of the country, let alone halfway around the world." She giggles nervously, dropping her head for the second time. "The only reason I'm even here is because of my best friend, Maya, and our damn bet."
She places her bag down on the bar, smoothing out her dress.
