Page 4 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
A whiff of forest and ocean hit my nose, making me lose focus. Why did he have to smell good too?
I leaned away from him, spluttering, “No.” Another wave of heat washed over me. At this rate, I’d need another shower. And some distance from this man.
Rhett chuckled, a low grumble that made my stomach flutter like leaves falling in autumn.
“Are you finally settled?” Anthony asked with impatience.
Wow. Thanks for your concern over my wellbeing, Boss.
I bobbed my head. “Yes.”
“Good.” Anthony rested his hands on the desk. “The restaurant has been operating at an unacceptable level. When I acquired this property, I knew it would be my step up into the big leagues. It’s time to put that plan into action.”
He wanted more?
“We’ll do it,” Rhett said overeagerly.
We hadn’t even heard what this entailed. How could he blindly agree? Unless Anthony had spoken to his nephew about his plan.
“What doesthatmean?” I asked, shooting Rhett aslow your horseslook.
“I want revenue up ten percent by New Year’s Eve. I’m hosting my annual party here at the restaurant. Before my guests arrive, I want a report with the new numbers. If my profit is not at ten percent, or higher”—his dark eyes bored first into mine, then turned to Rhett—“Holly is fired and Rhett, you’ll be out of your promotion.” A satisfied smile settled on his lips.
Seriously? Ten percent in barely over three months?
“No problem,” Rhett readily agreed.
Stop being a suck-up, Rhett!
I held up a finger. “How do you see us magically increasing revenue by ten percent?”
Anthony’s brows rose. Rhett let out a soft “oooh,” like I was in trouble for questioning his uncle.
“Well, Chef Holly,” Anthony said condescendingly, “that’s for you and my nephew to work out.”
I turned my head to face Rhett. “Do you have any experience in restaurant management?”
He dramatically placed a hand over his heart. “I’m wounded, Holly.”
Noted—stay away from the new guy. He doled out fake charm like it was candy. If I wanted his respect, that meant firm boundaries. “And that means?” I asked.
“This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“It’s not,” Anthony agreed. “I picked Rhett for a reason. His excellent management skills will raise this place to its full potential in no time. Are you on board, or should I fire you now and promote Nico to executive chef in your stead? By the reports I’ve received from the staff, I should have replaced you already.”
Anthony constantly threatened to fire me. It also didn’t surprise me that my employees wanted me gone. If I didn’t need the money so desperately to keep up on Mom’s medical bills, I’d consider finding a new job. But the pay, the prestige of being an executive chef so early in my career, and my heavily fought-for control in the kitchen forced me to stay. And I secretly wanted to earn a James Beard Award or a Michelin Star. That wouldn’t happen if I left The Boardwalk, since executive chef positions were hard to come by.
I stared at my knees. “No, Mr. Ivy. I’ll work with Rhett to meet your demands.”
“Demands?” he growled.
My head popped up to meet his steely gaze. “I mean goals.”
He tilted his head to the side, acknowledging that, as always, I cowed to him.
“Very well.” Anthony smacked his hand against the wood desk. “Rhett, this is your office while you’re here. Don’t get too comfortable. When you turn this restaurant around, that regional manager position will be yours.”
“I won’t let you down,” Rhett promised.
