The steady rhythm of the kitchen returned, but Celeste's pulse refused to settle. She had worked for the wealthy before- New York's elite thrived on extravagant dinner parties and gourmet meals. But Jayden McGregor was in a league of his own. She had expected the cold, scrutinizing gaze, the quiet authority that commanded a room. What she hadn't expected was his approval.
"Don't let it get to your head, Bennett," one of the sous-chefs murmured as he slid past her. "McGregor doesn't give compliments unless he means them."
Celeste shot him a look. "I don't need his approval to know I made the right choice."
And yet, despite her words, the way Jayden's eyes had lingered on her stayed with her long after he had left.
She forced herself to focus, plating the next dish with precision. The McGregor estate demanded perfection, and Celeste was determined to deliver.
By the time the final course was served, exhaustion had settled deep into her bones. The rest of the kitchen staff was wrapping up for the night when Chef Roux clapped his hands together.
"Good work, everyone. We're done here."
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the team, but before Celeste could step away from her station, one of the servers approached.
"Mr. McGregor has requested to see you," the young man said, looking slightly awed.
Celeste blinked. "What?"
The server nodded. "He's in the lounge."
A ripple of murmurs passed through the kitchen. Chef Roux raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Celeste hesitated. Clients rarely asked to see the kitchen staff, and billionaires never did. She could refuse- she wasn't required to entertain anyone after service-but something in her gut told her that ignoring Jayden McGregor wasn't an option.
Squaring her shoulders, she wiped her hands on her apron and followed the server out of the kitchen.
The McGregor estate was nothing short of breathtaking. Every detail, from the sweeping marble floors to the gilded chandeliers, exuded wealth. But it was the quiet opulence-the understated confidence of old money-that truly set it apart.
The lounge was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the bright chaos of the kitchen. Celeste spotted Jayden immediately. He stood near the fireplace, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand, exuding effortless power. For a moment, she considered turning back. Too late. His gaze lifted, locking onto hers.
"Miss Bennett," he said smoothly, his voice rich and steady. "Join me."
Celeste hesitated before stepping forward. "Is there a problem, Mr. McGregor?"
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Not at all." He gestured to the armchair opposite him. "Sit."
She remained standing. "With all due respect, sir, I'm just the chef. If you have feedback about the meal, I'd prefer to receive it through Chef Roux."
Jayden took a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down. "And if I prefer to speak to you directly?"
Celeste swallowed. "Why?"
"Because I don't waste my time," he said simply. "And you intrigue me."
A sharp exhale left her lips. She had dealt with entitled men before, men who thought their wealth granted them access to anyone they desired. But Jayden's interest didn't feel purely superficial. It was something else. Something dangerous.
"Mr. McGregor-"
"Jayden," he corrected.
She stiffened. "Mr. McGregor, I appreciate the compliment, but I'm here to cook, not to entertain."
His lips twitched, as if she had amused him. "Understood."
She waited for him to dismiss her. Instead, he reached for his drink again. "How long have you been working for Roux?"
Celeste frowned. "A little over two years."
"And before that?"