Page 8 of Sun's Roar

“I’ll be staying on as executive chef with complete creative control and a proper salary that doesn’t involve me eating ramen four nights a week.” She felt a blush creeping up her neck. “And we’re meeting the new owner today.”

The announcement sent the kitchen into overdrive. Suddenly everyone was polishing surfaces that had already been cleaned, rearranging perfectly arranged place settings, and debating what special to feature.

Helena fled to the safety of her kitchen where Marco was aggressively chopping scallions.

“So, who is this mystery millionaire?” he asked, knife flashing. “Should we be worried?”

Helena’s hands found comfort in the familiar ritual of kneading dough. “Honestly, I have no idea. The city manager just said he was young, ambitious, and specifically requested that we stay operational.”

“Young, rich, and interested in fine dining?” Tyanna wiggled her eyebrows as she passed by with a tray of dessert glasses. “Maybe he’s single too.”

Helena rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. Though her practical nature had always kept romance low on her priority list, something about this birthday—candle disaster aside—had awakened a restlessness inside her. A hunger for something beyond the comfortable rhythms of her kitchen.

“Let’s focus on impressing him with our food first,” Helena said, wiping flour-dusted hands on her apron. But even as she turned her attention to the day’s menu, she couldn’t help but wonder about the mysterious investor who had just changed all their lives.

Helena soon found herself straightening the menus at the hostess stand, adjusting them for the fifth time. The restaurant wouldn’t open for another two hours, but the investor who’d just bought the place could arrive at any moment. She combed her fingers through her red hair and smoothed her chef’s coat, aware that her usual kitchen attire wasn’t the most glamorous outfit to greet a millionaire in.

The front door suddenly swung open, sending a shaft of golden California sunlight across the polished floor. Helena blinked against the brightness, then froze as a silhouette filled the doorframe.

The man who stepped through wasn’t what she expected. Instead of some tech-bro in a hoodie or an old-money type with slicked-back hair, he moved with the fluid grace of a predator. His broad shoulders seemed to test the limits of what appeared to be a custom-tailored charcoal suit. No tie, just a crisp white shirt with the top button undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of tanned skin. His dark brown hair was styled in that effortlessly perfect way that suggested both sophistication and a hint of wildness—short at the sides, fuller on top.

But it was his eyes that caught her off guard. Green like the forest trees, that locked onto her with an intensity that made her heart stumble over its next beat.

Helena cleared her throat. “Welcome to Ember & Spice.”

“Thank you.” His voice was deep and warm.

He approached her with confident strides, crossing the short space with a presence that seemed to compress the air around them. Something primal skittered up Helena’s spine as he drew closer—a sensation both foreign and strangely familiar.

“I’m Sol Cadoret.” He extended his hand.

Helena placed her hand in his, and the instant their skin connected, warmth spiraled up her arm. Not uncomfortable, but surprising enough that she almost pulled away. “Helena Divata.”

His fingers lingered against hers a beat longer than necessary. “Helena.” The way he said her name made it sound like something precious.

“Can I help you today, Mr. Cadoret?” She tried to sound professional and unassuming, but her voice came out huskier than intended.

“Sol, please.” His eyes hadn’t left hers, even as his thumb brushed once across her knuckles before releasing her hand. “And I think perhaps we can help each other.”

Helena took an instinctive step back, needing to reestablish some professional distance. The movement caused her to bump against the hostess stand, sending the carefully arranged menus sliding.

Sol reached out with surprising speed, catching them before they hit the floor. As he straightened, a hint of a smile played on the corners of his mouth, partially hidden by his neatly trimmed beard.

“Quick reflexes,” Helena said, accepting the menus back.

“You have no idea.” His smile deepened, revealing a flash of perfect white teeth.

“Would you like a tour?” Helena gestured toward the dining room, desperate to redirect her thoughts away from speculating what else those reflexes might be good for.

“Lead the way.”

She felt his presence at her back as they moved through the dining area, her awareness of him almost tactile. “The dining room seats sixty-five. We’re known for creating an intimate atmosphere despite the open layout.”

“It’s beautiful. Warm.” His gaze swept the room before returning to her, something appreciative and possessive in his eyes. “I can see why people are drawn here.”

Helena soon led Sol through the gleaming kitchen, hyperaware of how his presence seemed to fill the entire space. The staff paused in their tasks, eyeing the stranger in the expensive suit with undisguised curiosity. She felt oddly protective of her domain, yet proud to show it off.

“And this is where the magic happens,” Helena said, gesturing to the custom-built wood-fired oven that was the heart of her kitchen. “We use local oak that gives the food a distinctive smokiness.”

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