Page 3 of Grateful Hearts

And when she did, he’d be ready. Ready to apologize, to explain, to do whatever it took to make her stay because losing Chantel wasn’t an option.

Chapter Two

Later that evening, Mario paced the dining room inside the restaurant. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. The place was supposed to open in two hours, but it felt like the walls were closing in on him. Chantel still hadn’t shown up, and without her, the restaurant might as well stay closed. The sous chefs were good, but notthatgood. No one could make the magic Chantel did. Without her, Mario’s prized establishment—the one people traveled from all over to eat at was nothing more than another overpriced place in the city.

He glanced down at his phone, scrolling through the dozen unanswered texts and missed calls.Where the hell was she?He had taken a chance and stopped by her place on the way to the restaurant, but she hadn’t answered the door to her apartment. He thought she maybe had headed to the restaurant early. But that obviously wasn’t the case because she wasn’t there.

Mario grimaced, thinking about the packed reservations for the entire week, including Thanksgiving. People loved Thanksgiving athisrestaurant—but only because of Chantel’s incredible cooking.

Around him, the staff bustled to prepare for the opening. Normally, this pre-service chaos filled him with purpose. Tonight, it filled him with dread.

He looked at his watch again before redialing her number, his irritation mixing with an edge of panic as the line went straight to voicemail for the fifth time.

He hung up and muttered a curse under his breath. Chantel was sweet, but she had a vengeful streak. He should’ve known better than to invite Tatiana to his place. No, that wasn’t right. Itwas his and Chantel’s place. She stayed there enough for it to be her place, too.

He felt like a total ass. Chantel was the whole package, after all. She was sweet, gentle, and a damn culinary genius.

Brian, his General Manager, was waiting near the hostess stand with a clipboard in hand and concern written all over his face. “Still no word from her?” Brian asked as Mario approached.

Mario shook his head, running a hand through his dark, disheveled hair. “Nothing. I’ve been calling all day. She’s got her phone off.”

Brian frowned. “That’s not like her.”

“No kidding,” Mario muttered, his voice tight. Chantel was the heartbeat of this place. Her passion infused every dish and every service. Without her, the restaurant was like a ship without a captain, and Mario hated to admit it, but without her, his dream was dead in the water.

“Do you want me to try calling her?” Brian asked.

“No,” Mario snapped, then sighed, softening his tone. “She’s probably just… taking some time. She’ll come around.”

But he didn’t believe his own words. Chantel had every right to be furious. He’d betrayed her in the worst way possible. Sleeping with Tatiana, of all people, had been a colossal mistake, one he’d been regretting every second since. But Mario never imagined that Chantel would stay mad long enough to mess with the restaurant.

“Mario,” Brian pressed, his brow furrowing as he studied him. “What happened? Did you two fight or something? Because she never misses a shift. Ever.”

Mario’s jaw tightened. The last thing he needed was for Brian, or anyone else, to know the truth. The staff didn’t just adore Chantel; she was practically their queen. If word got out about what he’d done, not only would Brian walk, but so would Ivan, the waitstaff, the line cooks. Hell, everyone would.

“It’s personal,” Mario said, his tone clipped. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Brian’s eyes narrowed. “Well, it’s my job to worry if Chantel doesn’t show. She runs this place, Mario.”

Mario exhaled sharply. He knew Brian was right, but the reminder grated on his nerves. “Just get Ivan ready to lead the kitchen tonight,” he ordered. “We’re down to the wire, and I’m not counting on her walking through that door.”

Brian hesitated, clearly wanting to push for more answers, but he finally nodded. “Got it.” He walked off toward the kitchen, leaving Mario standing in the empty dining room.

Mario leaned against the hostess’s stand, pinching the bridge of his nose. His emotions churned between guilt and frustration. Chantel had a right to be upset—hell, she had every right to hate him—but now she was jeopardizing his livelihood.

“This is her life, too,” he muttered under his breath. Chantel had poured her heart into the restaurant. She wouldn’t just disappear. She was too professional for that, even if she was hurt. She wouldn’treallyleave him high and dry. Or would she?

He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.Fuck!He would be ruined if she didn’t return. He needed to find out where she was.

Chantel kept her recipes under lock and key—figuratively and literally. No one else could replicate her signature dishes, and the thought of serving subpar food tonight made Mario’s stomach twist.

He clenched his fists. “Damn it,” he growled, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Tatiana’s investment was supposed to secure the restaurant’s future, not unravel everything.

Reaching for his phone, Mario dialed Chantel’s number again.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. He waited for the beep, his jaw working as he struggled to find the right words.

“Chantel, it’s me. Look, I know you’re upset. You’ve got every right to be. But you can’t just—” He stopped himself, taking a breath. “I mean, the restaurant needs you. We’ve got an hour until opening, and I need to know if you’re coming in. Please call me back.”

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