Chapter 35 First day entanglement
Lucas’s cheeks flushed red, heat rushing to his face as his heart began to pound wildly against his ribs. Before he could collect his scattered thoughts or make sense of the confusion crashing through him, Alex leaned in and pressed a soft peck to his forehead.
The gesture shattered what little composure Lucas had left.
The elevator chimed and came to a smooth stop.
“We’ll talk later, my dear Lucas,” Alex said lightly as he stepped out. He turned back, flashed Lucas a knowing smile, and walked away as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.
Lucas remained frozen in place, his legs unsteady, his entire body trembling. His mind reeled—at the warmth of Alex’s touch, the strange familiarity in his voice, the question he had asked, and that gentle, intimate peck.
“What just happened?” Lucas whispered to himself. “Who is he? Am I supposed to know him?”
He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm the frantic thudding of his heart. His thoughts spun out of control and back. “Oh damn…” He whispered as an idea struck his mind like a truth. “It seems I resemble someone he knows. That has to be it. That's why he acted like that.”
Lucas exhaled slowly, clinging to the explanation. “He must care deeply about that person. That’s why he reacted so endearingly. That person is lucky because he seemed like a nice man” he muttered again.
The elevator chimed again, snapping him back to reality as the doors slid open to his floor.
“Well,” Lucas muttered under his breath as he tried to calm himself, though he was still jittery, “I’ll just let him know he mistook me for someone else… next time.”
Yet even as he said it, his heart refused to slow, and the warmth lingering on his forehead made it painfully clear that this was far from over.
As Lucas stepped out of the elevator, the hum of the building wrapped around him. He adjusted his collar and headed straight for the kitchen, heart thudding with a mix of nerves and excitement. The moment he reached the entrance, he presented his ID to the first man he encountered.
The man glanced at the card, then at Lucas, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Oh, you’re the new guy,” he said. “Not bad at all.” His gaze lingered a second too long, making Lucas shift uncomfortably. Before he could respond, the man turned his head and called out, “Henry!”
A young man in his early twenties rushed over immediately. “Yes, Mr. Zenith?”
“Take Lucas to the locker room and get him set up. Make it quick,” Mr. Zenith said, his voice friendly but clipped with authority.
With a brief smile and a dismissive wave, he turned back to his work as if Lucas were already part of the routine.
Henry faced Lucas, flashing an easy grin. “Welcome,” he said. “Follow me.”
Lucas nodded and fell into step behind him as they moved away from the kitchen, the sharp clatter of utensils fading behind them while the reality of his first day finally began to sink in.
Stepping back after changing into his uniform, he paused—and nearly forgot to breathe. The kitchen was massive, far larger than he had imagined, stretching out like a world of its own.
It buzzed with relentless activity. Rows of gleaming stainless-steel counters and industrial appliances ran the length of the room, reflecting the sharp movements of the staff. The air was thick and alive—sizzling meat crackled on hot pans, fresh herbs released their green, earthy scents. Beneath it all lingered the clean sting of mild disinfectant. Knives rose and fell in quick, practiced rhythms, thudding against cutting boards like a steady pulse.
Industrial-sized refrigerators hummed along the walls, while ovens and stoves blazed nonstop, casting a warm, amber glow over the kitchen. Off to one side, a walk-in pantry stood open, fully stocked with spices, produce, and neatly labeled supplies, promising endless possibilities.
At the heart of it all was a large central island divided into stations—prep, cooking, plating—each manned by focused hands moving with purpose.
Orders were called, plates were assembled, and sauces were wiped clean with swift precision. Everyone moved as one, synchronized and sharp.
The pace was intense, almost overwhelming, yet exhilarating. Beneath the chaos was a quiet sense of unity, a shared understanding among the staff. This wasn’t just a kitchen—it was a finely tuned machine, and for the first time, Lucas felt himself stepping right into its rhythm as he muttered happily, “This is where I belong.”
Despite the chaos, the kitchen gleamed. Every counter shone, every knife, pan, and appliance sat exactly where it belonged. The air buzzed with motion and heat, but nothing was out of control. At the center of it all stood Mr. Zenith, clearly the head chef, commanding the space with quiet authority. His voice cut through the clatter—firm, precise, never wasted—guiding the team with a steady hand and ensuring that every plate leaving the kitchen was nothing short of perfection.
Still caught in admiration, I walked up to him.
“Mr. Zenith, I’m ready,” I said, forcing confidence into my smile.
He looked at me—really looked at me—as though assessing more than just my uniform. He appeared to be in his late thirties, tall, composed, and undeniably handsome. A brief smile tugged at his lips. I felt that familiar flicker of awkwardness creep in, but I held my ground and smiled back.
“Where do I start, sir?”
“Follow me,” he said, turning slightly. Then, glancing back, he added, “Lucas, please call me Zenith?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
He smiled again, sharper this time. “Alright, Lucas. He paused and turned to stare at me with no ordinary eyes. “I like you Lucas. You're a pretty guy. I felt my heart swing the instant I lay my eyes on you.”
Lucas stared at him in astonishment and managed to say. “Sir, I don't understand what…”
“I know it's too early to start confessing how I feel, but I can't help it,” Zenith said as he lifted his hand to stroke Lucas’s cheek, but he stepped back.
Zenith chuckled, “Sweetheart relax, being drawn to you at first sight is an experience I'm having for the first time.” Zenith said as he caressed his thigh, making Lucas flinch and step back.
“Stop it, please. I'm not gay, and this is harassment.”
“No, this is affection, I really like you. So you will be mine. Let's talk about that later, okay.” He flashed a smile and turned.
“Come on,” he said and Lucas followed him, his heart thudding.
“Lucas, let's start with the vegetables. Runner beans, bell peppers, and carrots. Dice the runner beans. Batonnet the bell peppers. For the carrots—julienne cut.”
Lucas nodded immediately. “Okay, sir.”
As Lucas moved toward the prep station, he could feel Zenith's gaze still on him, steady and unblinking, tracking every step he took—as if he was still evaluating him, or perhaps something more. The pressure was intense, but it only sharpened his focus. This was his first test, and he wasn’t going to let any distraction make it a failure.
So Lucas tried to avert Zenith's eyes and went straight to the sink, washed, and dried his hands. He put on hand gloves, picked up the knife, and slid into the work.
He had just started when he heard the gorgeous man's voice say, “Lizzy, prepare tuna for my Dad,”
Lucas's head snapped up as his eyes went in his direction. Instantly, their eyes jammed, and Alex smiled.
Lucas’s heart picked up, thudding violently. Fear gripped him and he tore his gaze away quickly.