Page 23 of Knotting on Heaven's Door

Gods, why hadn’t she worn the glasses last night?

Focus, idiot. Impress her. Survive. Then maybe decide whether to kiss her… or kill her.

CHAPTER 6

Sebastian

The first week tasted like salt and humility.

I started at the bottom. Just like she promised.

Prep work. Stock rotation. Organizing the walk-in. Peeling what felt like a thousand potatoes and slicing endless crates of onions until the scent clung to my skin even in my sleep. The others didn’t give me grief, but they didn’t treat me like royalty either. No one gave a damn that my last name was Laurente—especially not in a kitchen that ran on sweat, speed, and silence.

And maybe that was exactly what I needed.

It didn’t feel like punishment the way it should have. If anything, it felt likeorder. Structure. Stability. Every task I finished, every batch prepped and labeled, every clean station at the end of a shift—it was a step toward something thatIwas building. Not my family. Not my name.Me.

There was something peaceful about knowing that I could start from nothing and carve out something solid with just my hands and a chef’s knife. Something mine.

On Thursday, Mila tossed me an extra task: redesign the spice shelf. I reorganized the whole system, labeled the jars, and even found time to sketch a rotation chart on the whiteboard before anyone else noticed.

She gave me a small nod that meantwell done. I pretended not to care.

By the time my first day off rolled around, I could barelyfeel my feet. They weren’t used to being on the ground this long, let alone carrying me around a kitchen for ten hours a day. My lower back ached. My calves were tight. My palms still smelled like garlic.

But it was the best exhaustion I’d felt in years.

I wandered down to the hotel lobby, hair a mess, hoodie half-zipped, and ordered a large coffee from the espresso bar tucked near the elevators. The barista knew me by now.Sebastian, suite 14. Sugar optional, caffeine necessary.

I was halfway through my cup when a voice behind me said, “So, how’s life as a commoner?”

I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

Adrian Laurente.Hotel owner. Alpha leader of Blue Springs pack. My older cousin and the closest thing to family I could stomach these days.

“Exhausting,” I muttered, turning just enough to hand him a smirk. “I peeled carrots for two hours yesterday. My hands smell like a stew.”

He laughed and clapped me on the back. “That’s calledhonest work, city boy.”

Adrian looked good as always—clean-cut, pressed shirt, Alpha confidence radiating off him like heat. He wore responsibility like a second skin, and yet still somehow managed to look relaxed. Annoying bastard.

“You settling in?” he asked, sipping from his own mug. “Anyone giving you a hard time?”

“Only myself,” I said. “Kitchen’s solid. Mila’s a machine. And Ada...” I trailed off, shrugging. “She’s...professional.”

“Mm-hmm.” His tone saidI don’t believe you, but he let it go.

“You know,” he said after a pause, “we’ve got a restaurant here at the hotel. Classy, seasonal menu, open chef position. All you’d have to do is say the word and—”

“No.” I cut him off gently, but firmly.

He raised a brow.

“I appreciate it, but... I have to do this on my own,” I said. “No more shortcuts. No more family favors. I want toearnthis.”

Adrian studied me for a long moment, and then—surprisingly—nodded.

“Fair enough,” he said. “But just so you know, you’ve got a place here. In the pack. You don’t have to prove anything tome.”

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