Chapter 51 Hello
He asked but it was only a subtle trap. An opening for Lucas to hesitate.
Lucas lifted his head to meet his gaze. Then, he responded calmly. “I’m sure, I've got this.”
A few nearby staff slowed their movements, pretending not to watch.
Zenith stepped back, arms folding loosely. “Then impress us.”
The clock started ticking.
Lucas moved into action. He organized his space first, ingredients lined up, pans heated in sequence, timing mapped out in his head. His injured hand throbbed, but he compensated without a fuss, adjusting his grip and redistributing his weight. Everything flowed.
Zenith tried again to shake his confidence, “Careful,” he said casually. “That protein dries out fast.”
“I know,” Lucas replied, already adjusting the flame. Minutes passed. Sweat dotted Lucas’s temple, but his expression remained composed. He tasted, corrected, and plated with surgical precision. When the final garnish went on, he stepped back and assessed the dish, then made one last adjustment.
Zenith leaned in to inspect it.
For a heartbeat, the kitchen held its breath. Then he straightened, just as Lizzy inspected it and called out, “Send it.”
The dish left the pass. Seconds stretched into minutes. Then the waitress returned, eyes bright.
“Table twelve wants to see the chef.”
A hush fell.
Zenith’s mouth tightened. “Which one?”
“The one who cooked it,” the waitress said, looking straight at Lucas.
A ripple of excitement moved through the staff as Lucas wiped his hands and followed. His heart was already, his spine with a st spine.
From the dining room came raised voices, then applause.
The runner came back grinning. “They loved it and said it was the best dish of the night.”
The kitchen erupted with soft claps, murmurs of approval.
Lucas returned to his station, cheeks warm but eyes clear.
Zenith stood very still, a fake smile tugging at his lips as his eyes met Lucas's. He moved closer, “Good work, Lucas. That’s an A+” he said at last, voice-controlled.
“Thank you, Zenith,” Lucas replied simply.
From the doorway, Alex watched it all. He had come in when Lucas was already past halfway, and he decided not to interrupt. He was glad with the outcome. After seeing the joy from the test, the pressure, and the win, he was proud of himself. But he had to control himself from getting carried away around Lucas.
As Lucas went back to work, fully in command of his space, Alex allowed himself a rare, satisfied smile. Then he left the kitchen and headed to his office muttering to himself, “Zenith had tested him.
Lucas had passed and now, everyone knew it. He is a qualified chef.”
When Alex finally settled into his seat, satisfaction barely had time to settle before it dissolved.
Paperwork lay open in front of him, but he didn't bother to look at it. He closed the folder with a soft thud because Lucas' whereabouts were the only thing his mind kept circling back to. He needed to see him. They needed to talk about their conversation from the night before. The issue had clawed at him relentlessly, stealing his sleep and leaving questions gnawing at his chest. Lucas had a fear of getting into a relationship, and that wasn’t casual hesitation. It felt like it was forced and Alex had to know why.
His thoughts spiraled, sharp and restless. Could it be his father? The idea struck hard and refused to loosen its grip. A man capable of spiking his own son’s drink, abandoning him to a stranger just to strip him of his innocence. Such a man was capable of far worse.
Maybe Lucas’s resistance wasn’t rejection at all. Maybe it was survival. The realization sent a painful twist through Alex’s chest, so sudden he sucked in a breath.
“Damn it, how could a father do that to his own son?” he muttered in anger. The words slipped out before he could stop them.
He reached for his phone as he opened his laptop, fingers moving with practiced ease. A quick search. Lucas’s location blinked onto the screen. He was in the locker room. He had finished changing and was closing his locker. Alex didn’t hesitate. He dialed his number.
Across the feed, he watched Lucas pause. He saw him pull out his phone and saw his gaze lock onto the screen. Seconds ticked by but Lucas didn’t answer.
He just stood there, motionless, staring at the glowing screen until the buzzing died away.
Alex’s heart twisted painfully as he watched Lucas remain rooted to the spot, frozen as if the world had stalled around him. He dialed again. The phone buzzed. And still—nothing. Alex stared at the screen as if sheer will could force Lucas to answer.
“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath, the word breaking like glass. His left hand flew to the pendant resting against his chest, fingers curling around it as though it could steady the frantic thudding of his heart. “Please, Lucas… pick up my call,” he muttered, hoping to pray with every second that passed.
Then, finally, he picked up the call.
“Hello,” Lucas answered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Relief slammed into Alex so hard it almost hurt. “Please, come to my office,” he said, keeping his voice low, controlled, though everything inside him was anything but calm.
“It’s important. Okay?”
A brief pause passed, “Hmm… okay,” Lucas replied softly, and the line went dead.
Lucas stood there for a few seconds longer, phone still in his hand. Then he exhaled, squared his shoulders, and walked out of the locker room.
When he reached Alex’s office, he stopped again. His hand hovered midair, uncertainty locking him in place. Inside, Alex sat staring at his laptop screen, jaw tight, eyes unfocused.
“Come on, my Lucas,” he muttered under his breath, impatience and longing tangling together. “Do it. Just fucking knock on the damn door.”
As if hearing him, Lucas finally lifted his hand and knocked.
Instantly, Alex snapped the laptop shut and was on his feet. He crossed the room in long strides and pulled the door open. Without giving Lucas a chance to speak or think, Alex reached out for Lucas’s uninjured hand, grabbed him, and drew him straight into his arms, shutting the door firmly behind them.
“My Lucas,” Alex murmured against him, voice low and aching. “What took you so long, hmm?” He pulled back just enough to look at him. “Don’t you know your Alex has been missing you?”
Lucas’s heart leapt violently in his chest. His breath caught. Words abandoned him completely as he stood there, wrapped in Alex’s arms, utterly speechless.
“Come and sit with me for a bit. I’ll take you home later, okay?”
Lucas nodded, already giving in before the words fully settled.
He followed Alex to the couch, the room suddenly quieter, more intimate. Alex gestured for him to sit first, watching closely as Lucas lowered himself, then took the seat beside him—near enough that their knees almost brushed.
Alex turned slightly, his sharp gaze softening. “I noticed you winced while you were preparing that meal,” he said gently. “Your hand… how is it? Is it hurting badly?”