Lorenzo POV
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How long had I been Adam's sous-chef? Two years, right? And Jordan… she'd been here for what — a little over two weeks? Two. Weeks. And they were already going to use one of her recipes.
Why?
I'd never even been given that chance. Not even to suggest a dish, let alone teach one. Chef Adam decided the menu — end of story. He called them "meetings," but really, they were just announcements of whatever he'd already chosen.
My ideas rarely made it past the cutting board. And now… Jordan was going to cook her own original recipe.
"It's just for the promo," Adam muttered, as if that somehow made the whole thing less ridiculous. "Mateus's dumb idea."
I nodded. What else could I do? Swallow it and smile. Like always.
"I suggested yours first," Mateus chimed in, trying to ease the tension like he always did.
"No," Adam snapped, that sharp tone of his cutting off any further discussion. "I said no. They're exclusive."
"I've got some of mine we could use," I said, before really thinking it through. Or maybe… I'd been thinking it for way too long.
"Yours?" they both echoed, like the idea was absurd. Of course. Because the sous-chef can't possibly have recipes of his own, right?
"Yes. Mine," I repeated, keeping my tone in check.
"Hmm… okay. We'll use those for the next videos," Mateus said. "But I love the idea of starting the vlog with the intern teaching Chef Adam a new recipe."
I clenched my jaw. I gave a tight nod, but inside… I felt passed over. Again. For the thousandth time, I was just the support. Always reliable, always on standby — never the lead. Always there to execute someone else's ideas, to help others shine. Never the spotlight. Never the first pick.
And now Jordan — with her crooked glasses, timid smile, and that always-about-to-trip vibe — was about to outshine me. A freaking intern. It wasn't fair.
I pushed the thought aside. It was Jordan. She looked at me, offering a small, almost apologetic smile — like she was saying sorry, silently.
Sorry for being chosen.
Sorry for standing out.
Sorry for being in the spotlight.
I didn't know why she felt the need to apologize. It wasn't her fault. But still… her silent apology felt good. Maybe because it made me feel seen. Maybe because, deep down, I just wanted to matter. And Jordan… sometimes it felt like she did see me.When she smiled like that. When she actually listened. Like I meant something.
Maybe I imagined it.
But I wanted to believe it.
She told me they made an apple tart. She shared everything with that natural excitement of hers — while we were prepping for dinner service, in a rare moment when Adam was still in the office with Mateus.
Her enthusiasm was contagious… But still, part of me couldn't be entirely happy for her.
I smiled. Told her she was doing really well. And it was true. But not the whole truth.
Dinner service ran too smoothly. And that only irritated me more. I couldn't help it.
Adam seemed… different with her. Sure, he still barked orders — but she didn't flinch anymore. Each time, Jordan answered with more confidence. She got through the entire shift without dropping a single thing. And that… wasn't normal.
His orders had changed, too. He started including her — subtly, but still. "Come stir this."
"Add the sauce here." I saw her eyes light up at first — and then… she smiled. And got it done.
The three of us were in sync in that kitchen. Everything just flowed. So why wasn't I happy?
Because I saw the way he looked at her. Not for long — but I saw it. The way Adam watched her stir with such precision — like he was testing her… or admiring her.
And I saw the way she listened to him. Not out of fear. Out of respect. Out of that burning need to prove herself.
To do it right. To do it better.
I saw myself in her — two years ago. Only… I never got that look back. I was never more than efficient.
And the worst part?
That tart they made together? It actually made it to the dessert menu. It got compliments. Lots of them.
Yeah, I was pissed. And no, I didn't hide it well.
"You did a great job today," I told her, trying to keep my voice casual. "You're really getting the hang of this."
She beamed at me. Genuinely thrilled. "I can't believe how today went."
I smiled back. We were just finishing cleaning up the kitchen. Chef Adam had stuck around to help too, so we could finish faster.
"I'll give you a ride home," I said — more suddenly than I intended. I felt Adam's eyes on me. Sharp. Like blades.
"Oh! I live super close," she said.
"Closer by car," I replied. Or I could walk you. But out loud, I added, "Wanna stop somewhere for a celebratory drink?"
She hesitated, biting her lip — clearly debating it. And that's when I heard Adam.
"Tomorrow's a workday." Dry tone. Eyebrow raised. Eyes bouncing between us.
It actually helped ease my simmering frustration.
"We know," I said, finishing up. Jordan had just finished cleaning as well. "So… shall we?" It didn't come out as a question. I didn't want it to.
She hesitated again. I saw her glance at Adam. Then back at me. I smiled. "Come on."
She nodded. It felt like a small win. Petty, maybe. But mine. I grabbed my jacket and, almost instinctively, let my hand brush gently across her back as we walked out. Just for a second. Barely a touch. But deliberate. Like I wanted to make a point — to her, or to Adam.
And we walked out of the restaurant together. But just before stepping through the door…
I turned back.
And saw Chef Adam's face.
Tense. Irritated.
Perfect.