Page 26 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

Bullshit.

That doesn’t make any sense. There are dozens of other commercial ranges she could buy for what I’m offering her, even cheaper ones that would put even more cash in her pockets that she can use elsewhere.

This isn’t a rational decision. She’s saying no just to spite me, to rub in my face that she finally has something I want. The only reason she won’t give it up is that it’s me asking for it.

It’s stupid to reject such a generous offer just because of pride. While I’ve been known to let my own pride get in the way a time or two, I hate to see it happen to her when she clearly needs the money, if only to hire more help to get her place up and running. Really, I’m offering her another way to beat me—to use the funds I’m giving her on a silver platter to beat me to opening. It’s the ultimate win for her. I just need to convince her of that if I want this Vulcan in my kitchen.

“Think about it, Iz. I told you I’d pay you double, which would allow you to hire more help and open sooner. And…” I can’t even believe I’m going to say this, but it will sweeten the deal so much that even hatred won’t be able to stop her from accepting it. “I’ll even throw in my range, which I can assure you, is top of the line.”

Just not the Vulcan she has.

Her pretty pink lips part on a scoff. “Jesus, you just don’t know when to quit, do you?” She motions toward my place. “What do you have in there? A Vulcan?”

I nod. “Actually, the sixty-inch Vulcan with a fabulous broiler, convection, and steam, which is even more expensive than this.” I tap the top of the beauty in front of us. “And you can have it.”

“You're just going to give that to me along with double what I paid for this? It doesn't seem like a very wise business decision on your part.” One of her blond eyebrows rises. “What would your partner think?”

Fuck.

She’s probably right about that. If Grant knew I was offering her this much for a damn range, he’d probably have a coronary and back out of our deal immediately…if he survived the shock.

But he doesn't get it. He doesn't live in the kitchen the way I do. There's no way he can comprehend that equipment like this can make such a huge impact when running a kitchen for a packed restaurant. But I think, just maybe, if I laid it all out for him in easy-to-understand laymen’s terms, he would understand. Otherwise, I’ll just have to figure out a way to cut the budget elsewhere—as painful as that may be.

“Let me worry about my partner and what's good for my business. You think about what's good for yours.”

A car horn blares and inches around the truck, partially blocking the street.

The driver taps his foot impatiently and clears his throat. “Where am I taking this thing?”

“My place.” We both say it at the same time and point to different doors.

The poor man throws up his hands. “I'm giving you sixty seconds to sort this shit out. I have other deliveries to make today.”

Isabella plasters on a smile and points to her place. “Take it to my place. If anything changes, we’ll take care of getting it moved.” She returns her hard gaze to me, the softness in it before apparently reserved only for the driver. “But I doubt that.”

She has zero intention of budging on this. But if I don’t try everything to convince her, I’ll regret it. I need to appeal to reason.

“Go in my place and take a look at what I have, Isabella. See if it's something you want to work with. Don't dismiss my offer without at least looking and thinking about what all that money can do for you.”

She scowls at me again and appears ready to argue, but then her eyes dart over to my place.

Yes. She's actually considering it. I might have a chance here.

I motion toward my door. “Go ahead. I'll keep an eye on things out here and make sure it gets into your space.”

The dirty glare she gives me makes me steel myself for some sort of verbal attack, but instead of arguing, she heads toward my door, swaying her perfect hips almost violently in her frustration. She reaches for the handle and glances back like she’s expecting me to pull something.

This driver seems like he's on the up and up, so even if I wanted to try to do something under the table, this man doesn’t seem like the type to let me interfere with her contract.

“So, are we good?” His question turns me back to the street.

Reluctantly, I incline my head toward her place. If she changes her mind, it's easy enough to have Danny come over and get it from her and move it to my side.

The driver rolls his eyes and throws up his hands. “Thank God!”

He pushes the stove across the sidewalk, and I open the door to Isabella’s place and hold it for him to load in.

With her over at my place, this is a good time to scope out the competition. No doubt she’s doing the same in addition to examining my stove. That’s fine. I want her to see what she’s up against. It might help her to fully appreciate the position she’s in.

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