Chapter 5 The Owner's Suspicion

Maria ran The Saffron Spoon with sharp eyes and an even sharper instinct. She didn't miss much. The way a server rushed a plate, the way a sauce broke under heat, the way a new hire moved through her territory. And lately, she had been watching Liam Cross. There was something about him. Too smooth. Too skilled. Too quiet. He didn't fit the usual mold of desperate line cooks who wandered in and out of her kitchen.

On Friday morning, Maria stood in her narrow office above the restaurant room, the walls lined with faded photos of opening night and framed reviews from local papers. She called Ivy into her office.

She tapped a pen against her desk, her eyes fixed on Ivy. "Close the door," Maria said, her voice low but commanding.

Maria leaned forward. "Tell me about the new guy."

Ivy blinked, caught off guard. "Liam? He's solid. Fast on the line, quiet, and knows his stuff better than most."

"That's the problem. He's too good. He plates like someone trained in Europe, Ivy. His knife work is surgical, and he handles a rush like it's a Tuesday lunch shift. I asked him where he worked before, and he gave me some unclear nonsense about 'traveling kitchens.' What does that even mean?"

Ivy frowned. "Maybe he's just private. Not everyone likes to spill their life story."

Maria leaning her head, studying Ivy. "You like him, don't you?"

Ivy's cheeks flushed, and she looked away, her fingers pulling the hem of her apron. "He's... different. Easy to work with. He gets the kitchen, like he has been doing this forever."

Maria leaned back in her chair. "That's exactly what bothers me. People like that don't just show up at a place like this without a reason. He's not some kid fresh out of culinary school, and he's not burned out like Marcus. He's got a story, and I don't like not knowing it." She paused. "Keep your eyes open, Ivy. Something is off."

Ivy nodded, her expression torn between loyalty to her boss and the quiet connection she had started to feel with Liam. "Got it," she said, her voice quieter than usual. She walked out of the office, the weight of Maria's words on her chest.

Meanwhile, Liam had no idea the conversation happening upstairs. He was in the walk-in fridge, organizing produce and humming softly. Dani was at her station, kneading dough with flour-dusted hands, her jazz playlist barely audible over the clatter of pans. Marcus grumbled about the fryer's temperamental thermostat. Ivy was at the grill, prepping for lunch. Liam caught her glance, a quick spark of something, concern, maybe?. Before she turned back to her work.

Later, when Maria came down, she stopped at Liam's station, her arms crossed, a faint smile on her lips that didn't reach her eyes. "You like it here, Liam?" she asked, her tone deceptively casual.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, keeping his voice even as he diced onions. The knife felt like an extension of his hand. Maria's smile tightened, her eyes narrowing as she leaned against the counter. "You've got good hands. Clean. Steady. Not many cooks come in with that kind of skill."

"Thank you," Liam said, his heart picking up a beat. He focused on the onions, the sharp sting in his eyes a welcome distraction.

"Where did you say you trained again?" Maria's voice was light, but there was a steel edge beneath it.

"Nowhere official," he said, forcing a casual body language. "Just learned on the job, moving around. You pick things up."

Maria's eyes lingered on him, her silence louder than any question. She nodded slowly, as if filing away his answer for later investigation.

"Right," she said, not pushing. "Keep up the good work."

As she walked away, her heels clicking against the tiled floor, Ivy slid up to Liam's station, her voice low. "Just so you know," she whispered, "Maria's asking questions about you."

Liam's heart beat faster, but he kept his expression neutral, slicing through a carrot. "Yeah? What kind?"

"The kind that means she's curious," Ivy said, her eyes searching his face. "She thinks you're too good for this place. Too polished."

He forced a small smile, deviating. "Guess I need to mess up a plate or two, then."

Ivy didn't laugh. "Just watch your back, okay? Maria doesn't let things go."

Liam nodded. "Thanks for the heads-up."

She returned to her station, leaving him with the weight of her warning. He knew this was bound to happen. He hoped for more time to settle into this life, to feel the freedom of being just Liam Cross, and to let the spark with Ivy grow without the shadow of his past. But time was slipping away. As the lunch rush kicked in, the kitchen roared to life, burners hissing, tickets piling up, and voices shouting over the clatter of pans. Liam moved through it all with his usual calm. But Maria moved around like a ghost. He caught her looking at him from the pass, her expression unreadable but heavy with suspicion. Ivy worked beside him, but there was a new tension in her movements, a bit of doubt in her looks.

By the end of the shift, he wiped down his station in his thoughts. He needed a plan. The Grayson name was a ticking bomb, and Maria's curiosity was the fuse. If she dug too deep, she would find out who he really was, and the life he was building here could unfold in an instant.

As he stepped into the alley, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Another message from his assistant: "They've traced you to Atlanta. Your father is sending someone. You can't hide forever."

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, his eyes fixed on the glow of a distant taco stand. The Saffron Spoon, with its chipped plates and warm chaos, was the first place in years that felt like home. Ivy's laugh, Dani's jazz, even Marcus's grumbling felt real, untainted by the expectations that had suffocated him for years. Secrets always had a way of rising, especially in a kitchen where everyone talked and everyone watched.

And Maria? She was now watching.