Page 13 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

She cocks her head. “I still have to show up to work, Alex. The diner needs me.”

“Right. Of course.”

“Is it the time?” she asks. “Do you need me earlier?”

I shake my head. “No, I can arrange the time. I’m more worried about you being completely exhausted.”

She gives me a derisive smirk. “Please. When I was working in the city, the days ran into nights. I was also making proper food. You know, stuff that contained more than two ingredients, not just burgers and fries.”

I look at her for a long moment, and though I know she didn’t want to talk about it the other day, I can’t help but ask again.

“Why did you leave Opulento? It was such a good opportunity.”

She full on scowls at me then, and in that second, I know I’ve crossed a line I should have stayed firmly behind.

6

Dara

“I’ve already told you,” I snarl. “Things just didn’t work out.

Alex immediately raises his hands and bows his head. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

“It’s no one’s business,” I snap back.

I mean, it’s not like we’re best buddies or anything. I’m not going to stand in this kitchen and pour my heart out to a man I hardly know. A man, who, ironically, is like a closed book. A closed book with a padlock on the front, to boot.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says again.

He does sound genuine, and so I turn because I don’t want him to see me struggling to control my anger. I’m not angry at him, of course; I’m angry at the situation. My dream was stolen from me by the very man who ought to have been its facilitator.

Dino Cabrini, a man whose restaurant was awarded three Michelin stars, may well be one of the best chefs in the world, but he’s not everything everyone thinks he is, and unfortunately, I had to learn that the hard way.

Before my big break, I attended culinary school and then went in for a cooking competition that was aired on TV. Yes, that is my claim to fame. I didn’t win, but apparently, Dino had been watching some episodes and saw potential.

I thought it was a joke when I first got a phone call from him. I thought Mark was winding me up, and I swear, I hung up. It was only when the phone rang again and Mr. Cabrini’s assistant was very adamant that this was not at all a wind-up, and that Mr. Cabrini would very much like for me to come into the city to see him, that I realized I was being handed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

And at the beginning, that’s exactly how things felt. I learned a lot from him. I can’t deny that. Things were great for a while, until they weren’t.

I’ve calmed myself down a little, and now I turn to look at Alex. “Can I ask you a question? If I’m prying, you can tell me to mind my own business.”

“You mean like I did just a moment ago,” he said, raising his brow knowingly.

“It’s fine. It’s just….” But I can’t think of any other way to explain it without telling him, and so I just repeat myself like an idiot. “It’s fine.”

“Clearly not, but go ahead. Ask your question.”

“Why did you move here? I mean, I’m looking around this gorgeous house, and your amazing kitchen with every appliance known to man, and…” I hesitate, realizing that what I’m going to say might come across as totally rude.

“Say it,” he presses.

“It just doesn’t strike me that this place is who you are.” I throw a gesture in the general direction of the house.

He holds my gaze for a long moment, and though he hardly flinches, I can tell I’ve offended him. I have a problem speaking the truth. Well, I suppose it’s not a problem as such. I’m just honest. Too honest.

My mother calls it “being forthright.” Most other people, like Mark, call it being opinionated. Sometimes, I just can’t help but say what I think. Wouldn’t the world be easier if we all just said what was really on our minds?

“You don’t think I suit the house?” he says, his lips curling like he’s making fun of me.

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