Adam POV
The ingredients were laid out in front of us. I didn't need a written recipe — I knew it by heart. It was one of my favorite desserts to make. My grandmother's recipe.
Mateus hovered around us with his camera, snapping photos like a man possessed. He kept talking to break the ice, telling us to focus on what we were doing. "Pretend I'm not even here."Hard to do, with that shutter clicking like a machine gun.
I looked at Jordan. She was stiff, tense, her eyes jumping between the camera and her own hands. For a moment I thought she wouldn't even manage to follow a simple recipe.
"Focus on the recipe. Forget Mateus." I called her attention. "And stop looking at the camera like it's about to explode." Then I gave her step-by-step instructions, just to keep her mind away from Mateus.
She nodded. And, to my surprise… she actually started following. Perfectly. The camera faded into the background — for both of us, it seemed.
She moved with precision — almost made me forget that, in any other context, she'd probably trip over her own feet. Eyes fixed on what she was doing. Like she was exactly where she was meant to be.I focused on her — how she listened, how she executed. Even in this pretend task, I didn't tolerate mistakes in my kitchen.
In the background, the shutter clicks kept going. But here, at the counter... there was a rhythm. Something in sync.A tightness hit my chest. A distant, blurred memory.Another woman. Another time.
My hand faltered for a second. That familiar tingling crept through my fingers — quick, subtle, but enough to lose control of the knife for a moment.
I nearly sliced myself cutting the apples.
Jordan noticed before I did. She stopped me at the exact moment — a simple, instinctive gesture.How the hell did she know?
I couldn't explain it. But I was sure that if it weren't for her, I'd be bleeding.She smiled lightly, like it was nothing. Whispered a soft "sorry" when she realized her hand was still on mine — like the gesture had been the most natural thing in the world.
And then I noticed the flour.A tiny white smudge on the tip of her nose.
I smiled. Without meaning to.
Cute.…Cute? Me, smiling?
I told her to clean up and fired off a few more instructions like nothing had happened.What the hell is wrong with me?
She reminded me of someone. A woman from my past. But they were nothing alike.That other one… she'd never be caught with flour on her nose. Or in a stained uniform.She was perfect. On the outside.
Jordan wasn't perfect.And maybe that's exactly what was throwing me off.She was a walking disaster. A threat to my kitchen.And apparently… to my mental stability.
We started pressing the dough into the tart tin.Our fingers brushed.She paused.There was a strange discomfort in that touch, but I said nothing. Kept working. So did she.
Damn it.Why did it feel so uncomfortable being that close to her?Irritating. Disarming.
But… she had talent. More than I expected.
I gave her the instructions for the filling and just watched.She was focused. Calm. Even smiling.Like cooking was her safe space.
I tasted it. Perfect.
She tasted it too. Then wrinkled her nose.
"What?" I asked, flatly. What now?
"Hmm… Can I add something?"
My first instinct was to say no.But I nodded. I wanted to see what she'd do.
She added whatever she had in mind, stirred, tasted again, then handed me a spoon.I tasted it.
Damn.
It was better.I clenched my jaw. I wasn't going to tell her that.We slid the tart into the oven.
"Perfect. I love the chemistry between you two. This is turning out better than I imagined." — I heard Mateus comment, still holding his camera, grinning like a fool.I'd completely forgotten he was still there. Him, the camera, this whole ridiculous photo idea.
Jordan POV
I still can't believe I'm actually cooking with Chef Adam Black.It almost makes me forget that he's usually the Ogre Chef.
My heart was racing — nervous, yes… but also excited.And not just because of Mateus twirling around us with his camera, shooting everything in sight, or the other one filming everything.
Chef Adam kept pulling my focus back. Kept grounding me. And for that, I was grateful.I was genuinely enjoying this.I followed his instructions precisely. Just like I used to do with my dad, when I first started learning.
For a moment… I relaxed.Maybe a bit too much.I touched him more than once — instinctively.When I noticed he nearly cut himself. Or maybe it was just muscle memory from past experiences.
In the last few years before his retirement, my dad developed a condition that really limited him in the kitchen.He ignored the signs for far too long and by the time he had surgery, it was too late.He was never the same again.
He eventually handed the kitchen over to me.But I knew it hurt him.He'd worked in that restaurant for years.It's where I learned everything — and I knew I'd always have a place there, if I wanted it.They were used to my chaotic self.
But I wanted more.To learn more. Be more.Before going back.
"Perfect. I love the chemistry between you two. This is turning out better than I imagined." — Mateus said, and I smiled at him.
I'd forgotten he was even there.I liked him — he was friendly, direct, and, surprisingly, not intimidated by Chef Adam.He handled his grumpiness with a kind of breezy calm.Or just ignored it on purpose.
"I'll get my team started on the promo project," Mateus said. "I'm thinking of doing a few videos of you two cooking dishes from the menu."
"You want me to publish the restaurant's recipes online? They're exclusive," Adam grumbled.
"Okay, then. Other recipes. Think about it," Mateus replied like it was no big deal.
I glanced at Adam.He gave me such a serious look I felt my knees go weak.My heart sped up.But I didn't look away.
It felt like he had me in some kind of trance.
I didn't even hear Mateus's next few words… until he lightly touched my arm.
"What do you say, Jordan?"
"What?" I blinked, trying to recall if he'd already asked something before those deep brown eyes had short-circuited my brain.
"Can we do another shoot tomorrow?"— Probably the second time he'd asked that.
"Not all of us have your free-spirited lifestyle, Mateus," I heard Chef Adam mutter, arms crossed, glaring at the two of us.
Oh. And those arms. And that chest.Hmm… he definitely looked well-built under that chef's coat.
Oh God, what am I thinking?!Focus, Jordan. Focus.
What had Mateus asked again?
"Yes… I can," I answered quickly.
"Great!" he said, pleased. "Since Chef Adam doesn't want to give away any of his top-secret recipes, maybe you have one of your own?"
"Mine? A recipe of mine?"
"Mateus, Jordan's just an intern… why on earth would she have her own recipes?" — Adam cut in, with that sharp tone that made me itch all over.
"I do," I blurted. "Yes, I do."
I didn't want to miss the chance.If there was ever a moment for Chef Ogre to see what I was really capable of — this was it.
"So can we use it?"
I hesitated.Part of me held back — I'd had a recipe stolen before.Well… kind of.
But this was different, right?This would be filmed.This would be mine.
"It'll be recorded under my name?" I asked, just to be sure.
"Yes, of course. That's the whole point!" he said, animated. "It'll be great — the intern teaching the great Chef Adam one of her recipes."
I heard Adam groan.He was about to explode, obviously.I braced for it… when a different voice cut through the tension — sharper, heavier.
"Jordan's going to cook one of her recipes?"
Lorenzo.
And he did not sound thrilled.