Adam POV
I can't focus. I don't know what's wrong with me.
Her presence irritates me. The fact that she was sick worried me—no, irritated me. Irritated because I was counting on her for service and instead of three, we were down to two. And yet, when she showed up early at the restaurant yesterday, I almost smiled. Almost. Why? God only knows.
Now she blushes every time she looks at me. And whenever it happens, I feel the urge to smile. Irritating. Her giggles with Lorenzo—irritating. Their dinner on Sunday makes me furious. Why? Because I have rules. Because I don't allow romances in my kitchen. Because sooner or later that always ends in disaster, in serious mistakes during service. That's the only reason. Of course it is.
Mateus and his team were buzzing around the kitchen setting up cameras. Some would stay behind to capture footage for the vlog. There were more people in my space than I could tolerate. I was already exhausted and it hadn't even begun. But after the last meeting with Mateus about the accounts, I understood the necessity. Still, exposing the restaurant again, exposing myself again… it was costing me.
Clara and Melissa had already left, as had Lorenzo. They'd be back at six for dinner service. Jordan was changing uniforms. I really need to buy her more—how does she manage to stain so much fabric in just one shift? She was also putting in her contact lenses—Mateus's request. I don't like seeing her without glasses. Her eyes get too big. Too beautiful. No, damn it. Adam, stop. You can't find your intern attractive.
I checked the clock. Over fifteen minutes and she was still locked in the bathroom. Impatience started creeping in.
"Is she going to take much longer?" Mateus asked suddenly, without lifting his eyes from the camera.
"How would I know?" I snapped. But, for some reason, I stood up and knocked on the door.
"Are you almost done?" I tried to sound neutral, but probably failed.
The door opened. And of course—she blushed the moment she saw me. Always. Why does she do this to me now? My chest tightened, a smile threatening to break free.
"I… uh… I…"
"What is it?" I asked.
"I can't get one of the lenses in," she admitted hesitantly. "Um… could you…" She held out her hand, showing the tiny lens perched on the tip of her finger.
She wanted me to help.
I cursed under my breath. Maybe I even let out a sound of frustration. But I reached out and carefully took the lens.
She tilted toward me slightly, pointing to her eye. And that was the moment my brain shut down. We were too close. My body reacted before I could stop it. I swallowed hard.
I ordered myself to move. With one hand, I steadied her face; with the other, I placed the lens where it belonged. I thought it would be harder, but she kept her eyes fixed on me, barely blinking.
And I… couldn't look away. Her eyes stayed locked on mine. Hazel-brown. Large. Too large without her glasses now. They pinned me in place.
The lens slid into place easily, but I couldn't pull back right away. My thumb was still resting against her cheek. Soft. Her skin warm under my hand.
We were too close. I realized it too late. Her breath brushed mine. My chest tightened. No. Damn it.
I jerked back suddenly, as if her touch had burned me. I ran a hand through my hair, disguising the tension running through my body.
"All done," I said, curt. Harsher than I meant.
She blinked slowly, then smiled. A small smile, almost shy… but enough to undo me. My stomach clenched, my throat dry.
"Thank you, Chef," she murmured. I just nodded. Couldn't say more. My voice might betray me. I turned too quickly, heading back to the kitchen, where Mateus and his crew were already waiting. I needed distance. I needed air. But I realized she was following right behind.
And the worst part?
All the way back, my palm—the one that had touched her—still tingled.
Damn it.
. . .
I'm not a complete idiot. I had already noticed that, despite being clumsy and scatterbrained, Jordan had a certain natural flair for cooking. But I wasn't prepared for this version of her.
Mateus's idea was to flip the mentor-student roles. I thought it was too soon, but I trusted his instinct for these things. When she announced what we were cooking, it sounded ordinary.
"Jordan, stand closer to Adam. Closer," I heard Mateus say.
She stepped in. Too close. Was that really necessary? I rolled my eyes but stayed quiet.
"Let's start. Jordan, explain what you're doing and guide Adam through the tasks."
She swallowed nervously. It took her a few tries to start, but once she did, she sounded almost professional.
She smiled. Gave me instructions calmly. I don't like being given instructions. When she gave me the first one, I just stared at her, unmoving. Her eyes met mine and, as always, she blushed. And I… wanted to smile. Just to tease her. Just to savor the effect I had on her. Then, as if it were a game of wills, I gave in and did as she said. A dangerous game, one that made me forget we weren't alone.
"Adam, don't forget to smile," Mateus cut in, cruelly reminding me of the cameras. I clenched my jaw and forced a smile.
The dish—banal, in theory—ended up surprising me. The ingredients and spices she chose were unlikely, but they worked. By the end, I was genuinely impressed. Jordan had a refined palate: one taste and she could pick out what was there and what was missing. It was impressive. Almost as impressive as the fact that not a single pan flew across the kitchen during filming.
Minutes later, I realized I had celebrated too soon.
"Perfect!" Mateus exclaimed. "Cut."
It was as if he had given her a cue. Jordan turned too quickly, dragging a cloth with her. In the spin, it caught on some cutlery resting on the counter. The clatter echoed through the kitchen.
Panic spread across her face.
"Sorry," she whispered, barely audible. And I… laughed. Out loud. Free.
The silence that followed was thick with incredulous stares. No one expected to hear me laugh. Neither did I.
And I couldn't blame them for being surprised. I was too.
Worse. Everything was slipping out of my control. I can't allow that—yet a part of me had absolutely no desire to stop it.