Page 63 of Boss of the Year

It wasn’t a request.

I retrieved my plate, then set it down along with the simple cutlery to Lucas’s left. From this position, we’d both have a view of the infinity pool and the city beyond. Cautiously, I took the seat, feeling out of place. A table like this demanded cocktail attire, not chef’s whites.

Lucas removed his suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair before sitting. He studied his plate with the careful attention he seemed to give all things in his life. “This is interesting.” He cut into the beef. “Local?”

“Yes.” I watched as he took the first bite. “Fresh greens with local cheese. Farofa-crusted filet with cachaça and passionfruitreduction, paired with caramelized palm hearts and a caju-lime mocktail. Robbie and I went to the market. I experimented with a new recipe, inspired by a classicau poivre.”

Lucas chewed thoughtfully, his expression giving nothing away.

Suddenly, I was nervous. I wasn’t new to cooking for the Lyonses, of course. But it occurred to me that this was the first meal I’d prepared on my own for any of them without Ondine’s help or input. And it was for the most exacting family member who was in charge of everything.

Those storm cloud eyes met mine, glimmering with a hint of warmth. “It’s excellent.”

Relief flooded through me. “Thank you.”

We ate in silence, the clink of silverware the only sounds between us. Once again, I wondered what Joni would do. Her boyfriend was one of the most awkward men on the planet, stoic and even quieter than Lucas, and yet by some miracle, she’d made the man fall completely in love with her.

I didn’t want Lucas Lyons to fall in love with me.

But a bit of conversation wouldn’t hurt.

“So,” I remarked, unable to bear the silence any longer. “São Paulo?”

Lucas’s dark eyes found mine. “Yep. Then Tokyo and London.”

“Quite the world tour.”

“Business.” When he took a sip of the mocktail, his expression flared with pleasure. “I assume Robbie explained your schedule. Is there anything you need? Anything missing from the kitchen?”

The considerate questions caught me off guard. “No, everything’s fine. We got what I was missing at the market today.”

He nodded as he cut his steak with surgical precision. “Since you’ll have a fair number of free afternoons, do you have any plans? Have you ever been to Brazil?”

“No. It’s my first time.”

“What do you want to see while you’re here?”

I spent some extra time piling cheese and salad onto my fork. It fell off, so I had to do it again. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find something.”

“Such as?”

The question was so simple, but those storm-gray eyes were studying me with an intensity that made me squirm.

“I don’t know. I’ll probably stay close by. Get familiar with the markets nearby.”

Lucas frowned. “That’s it? We’ll be here for over a week. There’s a lot more to São Paulo than Itaim Bibi. Museums, shops, parks.”

I focused on my food. How small could I cut my steak?

“Flea markets?”

I looked up again and was met with a shy smile quirking the edges of that solemn mouth. “You have a very good memory, Mr. Lyons.”

The frown was back. “I told you to call me Lucas. I don’t want to ask again.”

I swallowed. “Lucas. Of course.”

He resumed eating. “So, you’ll really be happy just seeing the city from here and cooking for eight days straight? The beaches aren’t far, if you’re interested in that sort of thing.”