Page 22

“Your apron is black,” she gasps, the words laced with horror.

“Yes, and?” I ask, not understanding the fear-edged fury flashing in her dark eyes.

“Only Grey wears black in the kitchen.”

Oh, so that’s her problem. She thinks she has her claws sunk so deep that our executive chef would never notice another girl. I wonder how she’d feel if she knew whatGreydid with me last night.

“I know,” I answer, flashing her a shit-eating grin. It crumples when my back slams into the wall without warning, and her sharp, red nails dig into my arms.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,pute,” she hisses. “When he’s sick of your used-up cunt, he’ll come running back to me like he always does.”

“You must have me confused with someone else,” I retort, my tone pure sweetness. “Only one of us is enough of a desperate whore to fuck their boss, and it certainly isn’t me. But I’ll be sure to let everyone know you’ve been using yourused-up cuntto keep Greyson on your side. We’ve all wondered why he didn’t leave your bitch ass in Paris where it belongs.”

“You little piece of shit,” she shrieks loud enough that a few heads turn in our direction, and she lunges for me. I duck out of the way, but not before her hand catches my wrist and throws the plate I’m holding off balance. I try to catch it, but the dessert smashes into Collette’s chest, spattering cheesecake, jam, and cream all over her perfect, black sheath dress.

“I’m going to kill you,” she hisses through a smile, putting on a show like the perfect actress for all the people who have suddenly turned to watch the spectacle.

Yeah, she’ll probably have to beat Greyson to it when he hears what happened. I can only hope he’ll listen to my side before he starts raining hell.

Chapter Fourteen

ANGÉLICA

My vision is an angry haze as I storm back into the kitchen, not caring how loud my entrance is when the door swings violently behind me. “We’re down a dessert,” I announce for everyone in the kitchen to hear. I refuse to look at Greyson, ignoring his overbearing presence and stalking toward the locker room to calm down before I start screaming how I really feel.

Oblivious to how close I am to exploding, Greyson catches my arm as I pass and yanks me in front of him. “And how the fuck did that happen?” he hisses, rage written plainly on his face. He’s been looking for an excuse to lay into me since this morning, and fucking Collette just gave him the perfect opportunity.

“I tripped and threw it at Collette’s tits.” I’m tempted to add that it sounds like he’s well acquainted with them, but I value my job enough to hold back that little detail until we’re in private.

Greyson massages his temples like just looking at me has given him a migraine. “You will go out there and apologize to Collette right now.”

I glare at him. “No, I will not.” My tone is steady in spite of the frustration that’s sent my hands trembling at my sides.

“You do not have the privilege of telling meno. Get your ass out there and apologize. Now.”

“Ohfuck off, Greyson.”

I know it’s a mistake the moment the words leave my mouth. The pure silence in the kitchen is heavy and oppressive as everyone holds their breath, waiting for his reaction. It’s like standing in the calm eye of a hurricane, knowing that imminent destruction is waiting on the other side.

“Everyone go home—you’re done for the night,” Greyson shouts, his voice like a sharp crack of thunder. His blazing blue eyes are locked on me as people swarm around us to avoid impending chaos. I make no move to leave. It’s more than obvious that his command isn’t meant for me.

I don’t know how long we stand like that—three feet apart with enough fury building between the two of us that the heat of it is scorching. When I finally break free from his glare to look around, the kitchen is empty. The instant my guard is down, he pounces. Strong fingers wrap around my throat and push me backward until I collide hard with the counter. He presses himself against me, and I can feel every steel-edged contour of his body. Using his weight, he forces my back to bend until I feel it might break with the force of it and holds me there, hovering at an uncomfortable angle a few inches above the counter.

“You do not get to talk to me like that in front of my staff,” he growls, his fingers squeezing so tightly around my throat that my vision starts to darken. “In my fucking kitchen, it isyes, chefand onlyyes, chef. Do I make myself very goddamn clear?”

“Fuck you,” I choke out, my self-preservation fizzling out of my body along with my oxygen.

“Fucking christ, stoppushingme, Angélica.” The strength inhis fingers wavers for a moment—like he’s fighting himself just as much as he’s fighting me.

“Why don’t you bend me over and make me, chef?” I’m flirting with annihilation, and I’ve never felt more alive.

Vicious hands have me flipped onto my stomach with my face pressed hard into the counter before I have a moment to regret my reckless bravery. I gasp when Greyson’s fingers slide under my hips and rip open the buttons on my jeans before tearing them down to my knees. I don’t fight him as those harsh fingers yank the skimpy lace of my thong to the side and sink into my wet pussy. I’m too overcome with need to even protest as he assaults my cunt with punishing thrusts of his hand. He’s not gentle—he wants this tohurt, andmierdaI’ve never needed anything more.

“You’re so fucking soaked,” he growls, stretching and twisting his fingers so there’s no escaping the sweet pain of him being inside me. “Is that why you fight me every goddamn minute of the day?” His other hand slams against my ass, sending sparks of pleasure scattering over my skin. “Your pretty cunt is just begging to be wrecked, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I moan, pushing against him so his fingers fuck me deeper. I need more. I need so much fucking more. Another slap lands on my ass, the force of it so brutal I know it’ll bruise.

“Damn, you’re a stunning little painslut.” I whimper as another finger forces its way inside me. I’m so full but not full enough. The next time his hand falls on my sore ass, his fingers have curled into a fist. The forceful thud knocks the air from my lungs and has my pussy clenching around him. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks, his fist punching into my ass again.