Chapter 45 Intense emotion
Ignoring Zenith, he bent, picked up the ladle, dropped it in the sink, and picked up another clean one. Then closed his eyes—just for a heartbeat. He inhaled deeply. Then again and again. It worked like magic. The chaos around him faded, replaced by the memory of a quiet kitchen. The long nights of practice, his mentor’s voice correcting his grip. Zenith watched in admiration.
Then his eyes snapped open. Lucas moved. This time, his hands were steady. He adjusted the flame, recalculated the ratios, tasted, and corrected. Sweat beaded at his temple, but his focus sharpened into something fierce and controlled. The sauce smoothed, deepened, and came alive.
A nearby cook leaned in, surprised. “That… smells right.”
Lucas tasted once more, nodded, and plated.
“Order up,” he called, voice clear.
A few heads turned.
Whispers followed—but different now. They were respectful and curious.
Zenith watched from across the kitchen, jaw tight, eyes narrowing as Lucas recovered with precision that left no room for doubt.
“Damn it,” Zenith muttered. “The beauty got great control. This one is hard to break. How do I get him to myself”
After service, the kitchen slowly emptied except Lucas and a few staff who were still cleaning up.
Zenith washed his hands at the sink longer than necessary, staring at his reflection in the steel surface. His lips pressed into a thin line.
Alex had humiliated him and worse, he had defended Lucas publicly.
Zenith dried his hands and reached into his locker, pulling out his phone. His fingers hovered, then typed a quick message.
He’s getting too comfortable. This won’t end well. He slipped the phone away as he stepped out of the locker room and walked down the hall.
As Zenith walked toward the office, his mind raced. He rehearsed his tone—respectful, wounded, reasonable. He would twist the story just enough. Plant doubt. After all, Alex valued order and loyalty.
And Lucas? Zenith’s mouth curved into a cold smile. Everyone slips eventually, so he will too.
Zenith knocked once and squared his shoulders. In his head, he was already plotting his next move.
Zenith stepped into Alex’s office with practiced calm, closing the door softly behind him.
Alex didn’t look up. He was standing by the window, hands in his pockets, the city lights stretching behind him. The silence dragged—long enough to make Zenith’s confidence thin at the edges.
He managed and started, “I assume you called me here because of the misunderstanding in the kitchen,” Zenith began carefully. “I was only trying to maintain discipline. Lucas is talented, yes, but he’s still new. Emotions can—”
“Shut your trap, Zenith.” The few words sliced through the air.
Alex turned slowly, his expression unreadable, his eyes sharp and unblinking. He headed back to his desk. “This isn’t a discussion. And there was no misunderstanding.”
Zenith swallowed. “Come on, Alex. I was only…”
“Damn it Zenith, I watched the footage.” He thundered and the color drained from Zenith’s face.
Alex took a step forward. “I saw you knock his elbow. I saw you reassign him without clearance. I saw you leave that pot on high heat and walk away.” His voice remained calm, which somehow made it worse. “And I heard what you said about favoritism.”
Zenith opened his mouth to speak but closed it again.
Alex leaned both palms on the desk, lowering his head just slightly—enough to look Zenith dead in the eyes.
“You don’t sabotage my staff. You don’t undermine my authority. And you never weaponize my name to bully someone.”
“I’ve given this kitchen my best,” Zenith said tightly. “And now one person walks in and suddenly—”
“And suddenly you feel threatened,” Alex cut in. “Let’s be honest.”
A silence stretched.
“You’re not angry because Lucas made a mistake,” Alex continued. “You’re angry because you felt he would pose a treat so you wanted to break him.”
“No, that's not true. I didn't thought…
“Then what is the colour of your problem?” Alex barked angrily.
There was another silence as Alex studied him. He noticed his fingers were twitching. His suspicion rose. “Oh my, are you developing some silly feelings for him? Did you make advances and he refused you?”
Zenith didn't reply.
Alex chuckled, “Lucas is innocent. Don't be deceived by his physique. Stay the heck away from him. You're not capable of loving someone like him. I won't tell you this again.”
“Oh look who is talking. You think you're capable of love? You have no right to judge me on love matters, okay, and you have no right to stop me from going for what I want.”
“Lucas is not your type. Do you realize that even under pressure, he rose? And you couldn’t stand even that.”
Zenith’s fists clenched. “So what are you saying?”
Alex straightened. “I’m saying this is your final warning.”
Zenith looked up sharply.
“You will treat Lucas like every other staff member—with professionalism. Outside the working area, you can try your luck but if you harass him, I will treat your fuck-up.”
Zenith stared at him speechless.
Alex continued. “You will not assign him tasks, question his competence, or speak his name unless it is work-related as far as this company is concerned.”
“And if I don’t?” Zenith asked, the challenge slipping out before he could stop it.
Alex’s gaze hardened completely.
“Then you won’t be in my kitchen anymore. I will let the court handle your two-year contract you’re using as a treat,” he said flatly. “No second chances. No negotiations. I don’t care how long you’ve been here or your contribution to the growth”
The weight of his words crushed down on Zenith’s chest.
Alex moved past him and opened the door. “You’re dismissed.”
Zenith stood there for a moment, jaw tight, pride bleeding but not gone. Then he turned and walked out, every step stiff with restrained fury.
As the door shut behind him, Alex exhaled slowly. His thoughts drifted instantly to Lucas. To the way he had nearly cracked… and then steadied himself. To the quiet strength beneath the nerves.
Alex allowed himself a small, private smile.
“You did well, my Lucas, he muttered softly.
Back in the kitchen below, Lucas had no idea just how firmly his feet had been secured. The locker room was nearly empty when he stepped in.
Steam lingered faintly in the air, the low hum of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Scents of different body sprays mingling in the air as staff prepare to leave for their different destinations.
He loosened his apron strings, shoulders aching, mind still replaying the chaos of the day. He had decided to go home straight and soak himself in a warm bath. He was bending over to do his shoelaces.
He barely noticed the presence behind him until he muttered, “Lucas.”
He froze and spun around.
Zenith stood a few feet away, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Lucas straightened swiftly. “Yes?”
For a moment, Zenith said nothing. Then he exhaled, ran a hand through his hair, “You're damn so pretty Lucas.”