Page 7 of Possessive Greek Chef

“I’m getting out here,” I shout to the driver. “How much?”

He grumbles and points to the fare as I hand him my card. He hands it back and I hop out of the car and run the last seven blocks to Andromeda. I skid to a halt outside the restaurant door and check the time. “Eleven fifty-nine,” I mutter and pull on the door. It’s still locked and I check the time on the hour's sign.

“They open at one!” I utter to myself and make a mad dash through the parking lot to the kitchen door. A tall, skinny man with an unlit cigarette between his lips meets me at the door. He calls out something in Greek that I don’t understand and I hear Atticus answer from somewhere inside the kitchen. The man steps aside holding the door for me and I slip through.

“You’re late,” Atticus shouts.

“I was at the front door on time. I didn’t realize you were closed,” I shout back.

“Employees never come through the front door. Back door only.”

I try my best to follow the sound of his voice to his location, find him prepping vegetables along with two of his line cooks, and move beside him.

“Where do you want me?” I ask and he flashes a sinister smile in my direction.

“Since you did such a fine job on the beef but devastated the vegetables, you’ll be on the meat station tonight,” he grins. “Amon here will be on fish and Faruk will be on garnish.” The two men nod in my direction as Atticus sets down his knife and wipes his hands.

“Come with me so we can make you official,” he tells me and I follow him down a narrow hall to his office.

Once inside, he closes the door behind me, hovering close for a moment before moving to the coat rack and tossing me a new white coat. I hold it out to check the size and he adds, “Let me do the honors.” He steps behind me and lifts my hair off my neck. He takes the coat from my hand and helps me into it then places his hands on my shoulders and kisses me gently on the neck before releasing my hair.

He walks around me and traces the restaurant logo on my chest with his finger, “It looks good on you,” he says as my nipple hardens from his touch. “Are you excited?” he asks and my face turns red. My first thought is that he’s asking about my erect nipple and I’m mortified that he notices, but he clears his throat and adds, “About tonight. Are you excited to work here tonight?”

Relief washes over me. “Oh, yes, I could barely sleep last night thinking about it.”

“I couldn’t sleep either but I was thinking about you,” he replies, looking me up and down.

His forwardness makes me feel awkward but not because it’s offensive, I want him to want me. I just don’t know the right way to respond to this sort of attention from a man so I stand like a statue and hope he does something to guide me in the right direction.

“You need to relax, baby. You’re going to crack under all that pressure,” he says and begins massaging my shoulders. “I got the impression last night that you might be into me. Was I wrong?”

“No,” I mumble, losing myself in the feeling of hands on my body.

“You’re not into me?” he stops moving his hands.

“No, I mean yes. I mean….” I take a deep breath and pray that I can come up with a complete and comprehensive sentence. “Yes, I find you very attractive.” Oh, damn, that wasn’t what he asked me, was it?

“Thank you. I think you’re the sexiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” he replies and begins rubbing my shoulders again.

“I’m not…” the words catch in my throat.

“Not what? Not into me? Not sexy? Speak up, little girl,” he teases me.

“I’m not used to things like this. I don’t know what to say or do. I feel like an idiot,” I confess.

“So, let me take the lead. I know what I’m doing, and I won’t lead you into anything that you can’t handle.”

My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest, and my face is the color of a ripe tomato. There’s also that hollow ache at the junction of my thighs. Everything’s so…overwhelming.

“It's time to get your station ready. We’ll pick this up later,” he tells me and opens the office door. I take a deep breath and cross my fingers that I can actually walk on these wobbly legs. Every encounter with Atticus leaves me wanting for more.

The night is hectic but Andromeda’s kitchen and staff are much more organized than what I experienced at Bedros, so I’m feeling very good about myself. Atticus stops in a few times to check on me, but I don’t speak to him again until almost eight hours after my shift began.

“You’ve had back-to-back orders all night. It’s time for you to take a break,” he tells me.

As much as I’d like to take a breather, I protest, “No, I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t a request. It was an order. You haven’t eaten and you’ve been on your feet for a long time. If you aren’t at your best, it will show in the food that you prepare. You need a break.”

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