Page 27 of The Sweet Chef and the Corporate Queen

Jules pales visibly. "Mia, that's not?—"

"It's okay," I interrupt, saving her from having to respond. "I explained that I need to stay here and run the kitchen."

Relief flickers across her face. "Yes, of course. We all have our responsibilities."

"Exactly." I hold her gaze, willing her to see past her fear. "Though sometimes responsibilities change. Or adjust to accommodate the things that really matter."

She stiffens slightly. "Mia, go wash your hands, please. The next session starts in ten minutes."

Once Mia is out of earshot, Jules steps partially into the kitchen, voice lowered. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't discuss visiting with Mia. It creates expectations that can't be met."

"Can't be, or won't be?" I challenge quietly.

"Both." Her tone is final, but her eyes tell a different story. They linger on my face for a moment too long, drop briefly to my lips, then dart away. "I need to go."

Before I can respond, she's turning away, composure intact but shoulders tense beneath her tailored blazer.

"Jules," I call after her, unable to help myself. "For what it's worth, I don't regret it."

She pauses but doesn't turn around. "You should," she says softly, and then she's gone, ushering Mia toward their next scheduled activity.

Chapter Nine

Jules

"As you can see from the quarterly projections, our expansion into the European market is on track for Q3." I click to the next slide, maintaining my practiced executive tone despite the lack of sleep evident in the shadows beneath my eyes. "Berlin and Copenhagen will serve as our test markets before a wider rollout next year."

Twelve faces stare back at me with varying degrees of engagement as I walk through our international strategy. The Pine Room feels suffocatingly small this morning, despite the wall of windows showcasing the mountain view that had seemed so breathtaking just days ago.

Now the vista only reminds me of footbridges and rainstorms and moments of weakness I cannot afford.

"Questions about the European timeline?" I scan the room, carefully avoiding the door to the kitchen where I know he's preparing lunch. Two days of strategic avoidance has turned me into an expert on Declan Callahan's schedule—when he's in the kitchen, when he delivers fresh pastries to the conference rooms, when he might appear in the dining hall.

Andrea raises her hand. "Have we considered a Nordic-first approach? Sweden's regulatory environment might be more compatible with our privacy framework."

I welcome the distraction of a substantive question, diving into the details of international data regulations with probably more enthusiasm than the topic deserves. Work is my sanctuary, my certainty. The one place where I know exactly who I am and what I'm doing.

Unlike everywhere else at Mountain Laurel Lodge, where I feel increasingly unmoored.

"Let's take twenty minutes," I announce after we've exhausted the European strategy discussion. "Coffee break, then we'll reconvene to discuss the product roadmap."

The team disperses, heading for the refreshment table or stepping outside for fresh air. I remain at the podium, rearranging my notes instead of venturing to the coffee station that’s set up directly adjacent to the kitchen door.

"You're avoiding him," Andrea says, appearing at my elbow with two steaming mugs. She hands one to me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie, accepting the coffee with genuine gratitude.

"Please." She rolls her eyes. "You've been doing that thing where you pretend to be completely absorbed in work while actually calculating escape routes."

"I'm focused on our retreat agenda," I insist. "We have one more day after this to finalize our annual strategy."

"Uh-huh." She leans against the podium. "And that's why you practically sprinted from the dining room yesterday when Chef Hottie emerged from the kitchen."

"His name is Declan, not—" I catch myself too late.

Andrea's triumphant grin tells me I've fallen into her trap. "So you do know his name. Interesting."

"He's been watching my daughter all week. Of course I know his name."

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