It was your first day.The kitchen was quieter than you expected with no shouting, no chaos. Just the low hum of the fridge and the soft crackle of something cooking.

You stepped in carefully, a box of your things in your arms. New station. New start. “Good,” you muttered to yourself. “At least I won’t mess up in front of—”

“Who said you won’t?”

You froze.Slowly, you turned.There he was.

Grant Reilly.

Alone in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, focused on the pan in front of him like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Your heart skipped but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I didn’t know anyone was here,” you said, setting your box down at your new station.

“I’m always here,” he replied simply.

You watched him for a second. “Working on something new?”

That made him glance at you.Sharp. Curious.

“You’re the new sous.”

Not a question.You nodded.

A beat of silence.Then he stepped closer, just enough to feel it.

“Try it,” he said, offering a spoon.

You hesitated… then did.The flavors hit instantly—rich, precise, perfect.You swallowed, meeting his eyes. “It’s good,” you said. “But it’s missing something.”

Silence.Dangerous silence. His gaze darkened slightly—not angry… intrigued. “Is it?” he murmured.