Chapter 44 Jealousy looming
Zenith didn’t stop watching him and Lucas felt it. The weight of those eyes tracking every move he made. But he tried and focused on his prep. He managed and kept his hands steady. Knife moving in clean, precise strokes leaving onions and herbs in perfect cuts. He refused to give Zenith the satisfaction of seeing him falter,
and that only seemed to irritate Zenith more.
“Careful there,” Zenith said loudly, sliding past him and intentionally knocking Lucas’s elbow. The knife nicked the board, missing his fingers by inches.
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the nearby staff.
Lucas stiffened. “Zenith—”
“Relax, boss’s friend” Zenith cut in smoothly, raising both hands in mock innocence. “Kitchen accidents happen all the time.”
But his eyes gleamed, calculating the next step. Minutes later, Zenith struck again.
“Lucas,” he called out, voice dripping with authority, “Take over the sauce at station three. I want it done now.”
Lucas hesitated and started to protest... “But I was assigned to…”
“Oh, are you in charge now to the extent you want to ignore my instruction?” Zenith snapped. “Or are you too busy thinking about upstairs vendetta?”
A few cooks froze. Someone dropped a spoon.
Lucas swallowed, “I'm sorry head chef.” He apologized, wiped his hands, and started towards station three.
Zenith walked back to him, his voice low, “Are you trying to annoy me more by calling me that?. To you I'm Zenith. I like you, Lucas, but you went and spent more than your break time with Alex. You walked in back without looking my way. I'm feeling bad, okay.”
“Sorry if you’re feeling bad but the earlier you stop dreaming of me liking you back, the better. As I said before, I'm not gay. I can't be your boyfriend or Alex’s boyfriend, okay”
Zenith stared at him, his thoughts spiraled. “I knew it.” He muttered to himself. “So Alex was unto him already.” He stood with a clenched fist, jealousy increasing.
With the last words, Lucas had made it to station three. The pot was already simmering, and too hot. Lucas reached for the ladle, and the sauce split instantly.
Gasps echoed in the kitchen.
Zenith stepped in fast, shaking his head dramatically. “Unbelievable,” he said. “This is basic, Lucas. Even a trainee wouldn’t mess this up.”
“That pot was overheated,” Lucas said, voice tight. “It was like that when I got here.”
“Oh?” Zenith scoffed. “So now you’re saying I sabotaged you?”
The word sabotaged hung in the air.
Before Lucas could respond, Zenith raised his voice. “You see what favoritism does? Someone thinks they’re untouchable just because they had a private meeting with the boss.”
There was silence. Every head in the kitchen turned. Lucas’s chest tightened. His mouth opened and then closed again without a word. Alex’s warning echoed in his head yet again. “He is a very good manipulator. If he bothers you, report him.
Zenith smirked, convinced he had won suppressing him. But that instant, Alex's voice thundered through from the doorway.
“Is there a problem in my kitchen?”
The voice was cold and commanding.
Everyone, including Zenith, froze and then turned toward the entrance.
Alex stood there. Suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, his green eyes sharp as steel as they swept across the kitchen and paused briefly on Lucas, then locked onto Zenith. The air shifted instantly, like pressure before a storm.
Zenith straightened. “Boss, I was just—”
“Quiet,” Alex said flatly.
The word landed hard. He walked in, unhurried, stopping beside the ruined sauce. He dipped a spoon, tasted it once, then set it down.
“This sauce was overheated before Lucas touched it,” Alex said calmly. “Anyone with experience can tell.”
Zenith’s face was drained of color. Alex turned fully to him now.
“You reassigned him without clearance. You interfered with his station. And you embarrassed him in front of the staff not caring that it was his first day. What kind of a headchef behaves like that, hmm?”
“I—I was only trying to maintain order,” Zenith stammered.
Alex leaned in slightly, voice low but lethal. “No. You were trying to sabotage him.”
A stunned murmur rippled through the kitchen.
Alex straightened. “From this moment on, Lucas answers directly to me. You do not give him instructions unless I say so.”
Zenith’s jaw tightened, fists clenching at his sides. “Yes… Sir.”
Alex turned to Lucas, his gaze softening just a fraction.
“Are you okay?” He asked almost in a whisper.
“Hmm,” Lucas nodded.
“Clean up and reset the sauce. You did nothing wrong.”
Lucas nodded, heart pounding.
“Yes, sir.”
Alex smirked, “Call me Alex, please.” He whispered and Lucas nodded. Then he turned to leave, but at the door, he paused and added without looking back…
“And Zenith?”
Zenith, who had been watching him all along, jerked unexpectedly.
“Yes, boss.”
“See me in my office after service.”
Zenith swallowed hard.
Lucas watched Alex disappear through the doors, his pulse racing—not from fear this time, but from something fierce and electric.
Then his eyes diverted to Zenith whose eyes were on him already. Lucas' stomach tightened as Zenith shot him a look filled with venom.
Lucas whispered to himself. “Oh dear goodness, why am I having such a bad feeling about this place?” Instantly, he pulled his gaze away from him.
Zenith smirked and whispered to himself, “Oh my Lucas, why do I feel like this isn't over. Why do I feel like I’m not even close to giving you peace of mind if you reject me too much?” He chortled to himself, still watching Lucas.
Meanwhile, the moment Alex left the kitchen, the noise rushed back in. Pans clanged. Orders were shouted. Flames hissed beneath pots. But for Lucas, everything blurred into a dull roar. His hands trembled as he stared down at the ruined sauce, the wooden spoon heavy in his grip.
You did nothing wrong, Alex had said. Yet his chest felt tight. Too tight.
“Move faster,” Henry barked from the other station, "We need the sauce.
Lucas tried. He wiped the pot, reset the burner, started again—but his mind wouldn’t settle. He felt like Zenith’s glare had burned into his back like a brand. His breathing grew uneven. The sauce thickened too quickly. He added stock, then froze. His hands shook harder.
A sharp crack echoed as the ladle slipped from his grip and clattered onto the floor.
Silence snapped through the immediate area. Lucas stared at it on the floor breath hitching, vision swimming. For a terrifying second, he thought he might actually break right there—right in front of everyone.
“Get up, Lucas, you’re a chef,” he told himself.
Zenith didn’t miss the moment, but some feeling he couldn't explain twitched within him. He walked over to Lucas.
“Well?” he drawled. “Standing around won’t fix it.”
Something inside Lucas finally gave way as he glanced at him and then at the ladle on the floor.
“Well?” Zenith put in again, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”