The Billionaire’s Bun In Her Oven - Ellie Rowe Page 0,33

of me. Then she licks it off.

“Mmm,” she says before slithering away.

She’s right. If I don’t straighten out, Cynthia’s restaurant is toast.

Twenty-Five

Cynthia

I watch Nadia go, clenching my fists tightly against my sides. I know I put that fucking ingredient in there. Right? Didn’t I?

How does she do it? How does she make me question my own fucking cooking? It reminds me of her work at my other restaurant. Slipping little lies and false secrets into my employee’s ears until they weren’t sure if they could trust their own judgement about me.

How much more of this can a woman fucking take? My fists are shaking from how tightly I’ve clenched them as I watch the crew file out of the kitchen for their break. That merciless bitch.

I’m seething.

But there’s someone else who deserves my wrath right now.

Stephen.

What the fuck is he playing at? Barely answering my questions about the food, and having some sort of unconvincing reaction when he tasted it.

“Phew,” I hear someone blow out a breath behind me. I turn to Stephen, my eyes ablaze. He looks relieved until he notices the expression on my face. I grab him by the arm and roughly usher him out of the kitchen.

“You. Come with me. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I hear him grumble as I shove him through the restaurant. “Is this really necessary —”

“Quiet!” I snap and dart my eyes around, looking for someplace, any place we could have some privacy. There are cameras everywhere, crew everywhere, mirrors everywhere!

In my desperation, I decide on a broom closet and quickly fling open the door to shove him inside, making sure no one sees us. When I’m satisfied, I shut the door behind me and pull the lightbulb chain to reveal a disgruntled-looking Stephen, massaging his arm.

“What the hell is this about —” He starts, but I shush him angrily.

“You. Don’t talk. I talk, you got that?!” I whisper furiously.

He looks shocked. Oh, this is rich! He’s the one who looks shocked? Shocked? As if he didn’t just work with Nadia to completely undermine me!

“What the fuck was that about?” I ask, standing on my tiptoes to get in his face.

“Listen, I have no idea —”

“What do you hope to gain here, huh? This is all your fucking fault, and mine, too, for that matter, for trusting you!” I poke him in the chest for good measure, and he recoils into the shelves.

“What are you talking about, Cynthia —”

“You don’t talk!” I hiss and slap my hand over his mouth. He muffles an ‘ouch’ under my hand, but I tighten my grip.

“Why in God’s name did you want me on this stupid fucking show if you’re just going to ruin my reputation all over again?”

I can feel tears stinging my eyes. I don’t want to cry in front of him. I don’t want to feel this desperate, this helpless.

He starts to speak under my hand, but I give him a warning look. His eyes grow big and annoyed until he finally licks my hand.

“Ew!” I cry, and Stephen shushes me. I wipe my hand on my jacket with a scowl.

“Well, how the fuck am I supposed to answer your stupid ass question if your pretty little hand is over my mouth!” he hisses.

Did he say my hand was pretty? Does that mean he thinks I’m pretty? Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I’m not trying to ruin your reputation all over again, I’m trying to do the exact opposite of that!” he whispers, his tone as angry as mine.

“Then ,what was all that about!” I demand, getting up in his face again.

“What? You mean Nadia?” So, he does know.

“Yeah. Her. And you—”

Stephen slaps his hand over my mouth now. I reach up to remove it, but he’s got a strong grip. His other hand holds my waist, pinning my arm to my side.

“Now I talk,” Stephen says, calming down. “Since this is how we’re doing things...” He raises his eyebrow at me. “I had nothing to do with whatever Nadia pulled. Frankly, I hate the bitch and hate seeing you have to deal with her.”

My eyes widen in surprise.

“Look I’m sorry I was distracted, but I think we both are a little off these days.”

I lick his hand back and he grimaces, but doesn’t remove it. When I give him an eyebrow, he finally relinquishes, but keeps his other hand on my waist.

“How the fuck have you been off, Mr. TV Celebrity? You look great all the time!” I whisper, getting in his face again. “You say