Chapter 3

Blake POV

The kitchen was usually a symphony of controlled chaos.

The staccato rhythm of knives chopping against wood, pans searing in bursts of flame, the rhythmic call and response of the line.

But when Jaden Juarez pushed through the swinging doors, the music stopped.

She had followed me.

She wasn't satisfied with the burn.

She wanted the kill.

I was at the prep sink, running my blistering hand under cold water. The skin was peeling, an angry, weeping red.

"This is disgusting," Jaden announced, wrinkling her nose at the rich scent of garlic and demi-glace.

She walked right up to the pass, where plates of Wagyu beef were being arranged with tweezers.

"You," she pointed at a sous-chef. "Put this on my steak."

She pulled a jar of cheap, grocery-store caviar out of her purse.

The room went silent.

It wasn't just rude; it was a desecration.

Austin Gordon stepped out from the shadows of the walk-in fridge.

He was a mountain of a man, arms sleeved in tattoos that disappeared under his chef's whites. He didn't look like a cook. He looked like a weapon that had been retired but not deactivated.

He moved with a quiet grace that screamed danger.

"No outside food in the kitchen," Austin said.

His voice was deep, a rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards.

"Excuse me?" Jaden scoffed.

"Health code," Austin said, not breaking eye contact. "And respect for the craft. Get that trash off my pass."

Jaden's face turned purple. She wasn't used to being told no.

She whipped out her phone.

"Connor is going to hear about this!" she shrieked.

She initiated a video call.

A moment later, Connor's face filled her screen.

He was sitting in a boardroom. I could see the edge of the mahogany table. I could see the shoulders of the men sitting around him.

The investors.

The Apex Cartel.

He was in a Sit-down. A sacred meeting.

And he answered her call.

"Jaden, baby, I'm in a meeting," Connor said, his voice tight.

"They're bullying me, Connor!" she wailed, turning the camera to face the kitchen staff. "The chef! And that bitch waitress! They're ganging up on me!"

She shoved the camera in my face.

I didn't look away. I stared right into the lens. Right into Connor's eyes.

I held up my hand.

The red, blistered skin was impossible to miss.

"Connor," I said.

He saw me. He saw the injury.

For a second, I saw a flicker of recognition. Maybe even concern.

But then he looked at the men around him.

They were watching him. Judging him.

A Don who couldn't control his woman? A Don who let his staff talk back?

He panicked. He chose the easy route. He chose the path of the coward.

"Give her what she wants," Connor said, his voice tinny through the speaker.

"Connor," I said, stepping closer to the phone. "She burned me."

"I don't have time for this, Blake!" he snapped. "Apologize to her. All of you. Now."

The kitchen went dead silent.

Austin looked at the phone, his jaw tightening.

"You want us to apologize to the woman who assaulted your staff?" Austin asked.

"I gave you an order!" Connor yelled. "Do it, or you're all fired. Blake, get on your knees and beg her pardon. Show her the respect she deserves."

The air left the room.

Get on my knees.

He wanted the daughter of David Shaw to kneel to a cleat chaser.

He wanted me to submit. In front of his investors. In front of his staff. In front of the woman who hurt me.

I looked at the screen.

I looked at the man I had agreed to marry. The man I thought could help me modernize the families.

I didn't see a partner.

I saw a liability.

The pact was broken. Not by me. But by him.

"Are you sure about this order, Don Bishop?" I asked softly.

"Do it!" he roared.

I nodded slowly.

"Okay," I said.

I reached out with my good hand.

Jaden smirked, thinking I was reaching for her hand to kiss it.

I grabbed the phone.

And I ended the call.

The screen went black.

Jaden blinked. "What do you think you're-"

"Austin," I said, my voice changing.

It wasn't the voice of a waitress anymore.

It was the voice my father used right before he signed a death warrant.

"Lock the doors."