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Or would he do what he was doing now?
Stay.
Be exactly the kind of man I was afraid I could fall for.
The health inspector arrived just as the dinner rush started, wearing a crisp, no-nonsense expression that made my stomach drop.
I had expected the inspection, but not so soon. Not with this level of scrutiny.
"Ms. Lane?” His voice was sharp, professional.
I wiped my hands on my apron and forced a steady breath. "That’s me."
"I'm Inspector Reynolds. We received a report that Amélie may not be meeting health and safety standards."
I narrowed my eyes. "A report?"
He barely reacted, flipping open his clipboard. "We'll be conducting a thorough review."
Something about the way he said thorough made my skin prickle.
I swallowed hard, nodding. "Of course. Follow me."
The kitchen was running like a well-oiled machine, my chefs moving in a practiced rhythm.
The air was thick with the scent of butter, seared meat, and fresh herbs. Everything was pristine—as it always was.
But as Inspector Reynolds moved through each station, his eyes seemed too sharp, his questions too specific, as if he already knew what he was looking for.
My pulse quickened. Someone had tipped him off.
I clenched my jaw, watching as he ran a gloved finger over surfaces, checked temperatures, examined every corner as if expecting to find something damning.
And then he stopped at the dry storage.
I moved to follow, but before I could take a step, one of my chefs, Leah, grabbed my arm.
"Scarlett," she whispered urgently. "You need to see this."
I turned, my stomach knotting as she led me toward one of the lower shelves.
My blood ran cold.
There, tucked behind the neatly organized containers of flour and sugar, was a small, unlabeled bag of something.
My hands shook as I reached for it, unzipping the seal. A bitter, chemical scent filled my nose.
What the hell is this?
Heart pounding, I turned just as the inspector walked in.
"What do we have here?" he asked, eyes narrowing at the bag in my hand.
I forced my expression to remain calm. "I have no idea."
His brow arched. "You’re saying this isn’t yours?"
I set my jaw. "I run a tight kitchen, Inspector. This wasn’t here before today."