Page 4 of Slow Simmer

Suzannah had flushed to the roots of her hair, the darkening cast of her skin available even in the bad light. “It didn’t end well,” she said, almost inaudibly.

For a moment, the three of them stood in silence, and then Luke sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think you’re being fair,” he told Suzannah finally. “How long ago was all this?”

“Nine years,” Suzannah said immediately, making Carlo blink. He could name the exact day and time he last saw her, but hadn’t thought she would have the information on the tip of her tongue like that.

“And you don’t think you’ve both grown up enough to work together?”

Ouch. The biting remark found its target, Carlo saw, as Suzannah’s spine stiffened.

“Give me an opportunity,” he said quickly, before she could lose her temper and say something she might regret. “I’m sure you’ve learned a lot in nine years; so have I. Let me make you a dessert dégustation menu, for lunchtime tomorrow. If you’re not completely sold on everything I make, I’ll go.”

He was careful to keep his tone completely reasonable. Luke nodded approvingly at him, and they both looked at Suzannah to see her reaction.

Carlo knew her well enough to guess she wanted to reject his suggestion on the spot, but doing so would look unreasonable at best, maybe even petty and vindictive, and she really wasn’t an unreasonable person. She had high expectations of herself and held others around her to the same standards, both in the quality of her cooking and in her personal life.

“D’accord,” she said grudgingly at last, then translated for Luke’s sake. “All right.”

“Excellent,” Luke said, and Carlo could tell he was being deliberately hearty. “I’ll come down, and bring Olivia over. She’s our marketing manager,” he advised Carlo. “Once you’re confirmed in the post, she’ll be the one plastering it all over social media. I understand you have almost a million subscribers on You Tube, and Jace agreed with you that you can continue to film here as long as it doesn’t affect the day-to-day operations ofLa Sirène?”

“That’s right,” Carlo nodded. “I haven’t made any announcement yet, of course.”

He was pretty sure Suzannah was grinding her teeth. They needed to talk, privately, but she didn’t seem inclined to give him even a moment.

“I have to get back,” she said abruptly, turning to open the kitchen door. “The pastry kitchen will be open to you from six tomorrow morning,” she threw over her shoulder to Carlo. “Don’t be late… and don’t distract my staff. They have a lot of work to do.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said to the closing door.

“That did not go how I expected,” Luke said after a long minute of awkward silence. “Would you mind filling me in on the details of ‘it didn’t end well’, please?”

Suddenly, Carlo felt absolutely exhausted. He’d spent most of the last thirty-six hours on an aeroplane, and thinking about being face to face with Suzannah again for the first time in almost a decade had kept him from getting any sleep, even though Jace Hunter’s private jet was sinfully comfortable. His body clock was completely out of sync, and he had to get up in just a few hours ready to cook the best desserts he’d ever made in his life.

Yet, he couldn’t refuse to explain.

“Sure,” he said wearily. “Would you mind if we talked about it over a stiff drink, though? I’m feeling very much in need of one right now… and then a hot shower and a few hours of sleep before I get in the kitchen to impress Madam Picky.”

Luke laughed, and put a companionable hand on Carlo’s shoulder. “Of course, mate. Right this way. I’ve got a bottle of Scotch in my cabin, and it’s just a couple of doors down from yours. You can go to bed right after we’ve talked.”

“Sounds like a plan.” A glass of Scotch sounded heavenly, almost as good as a bed. Carlo followed as Luke set off through the resort, wending his way through palm-tree lined paths with confidence despite a lack of signs and limited lighting. It seemed like a maze to Carlo’s overtired mind, but he was sure he’d get used to it, just like the heat. Even after dark had fallen, the air was hot and muggy, the humidity much higher than he was used to. He just hoped his room was air-conditioned, or sleeping would be difficult no matter how tired he was.

“This one’s yours,” Luke paused outside a small cabin. It looked pretty luxurious for staff accommodation, and with his brain filter compromised by exhaustion, Carlo said so. Luke laughed.

“They used to be guest accommodations, actually. After a hurricane a few years ago damaged much of the existing infrastructure, the Hunters bought the island and did a complete rebuild. Left the existing cabins for staff. Only senior staff get these nice ones, but you definitely merit one, considering your celebrity status and how much we expect you to enhance the reputation ofLa Sirène, and by extension the whole resort.”

Carlo wasn’t too tired to understand the warning in Luke’s tone. He nodded in understanding, and they moved on, walking a couple of cabins further along the row. Luke gestured him to take a seat on the small veranda, going inside and returning a couple of minutes later with a bottle and two glasses.

Luke let him savour the first couple of sips, the welcome burn going down his throat, before speaking.

“So, you and Suzannah had a thing going on. Tell me about it… and tell me why you didn’t let Jace know the pair of you had a history, please.”

Carlo winced. “I know how good she is,” he answered the last part of the request first, “and I know you wouldn’t want to risk displeasing her, in case she walked out on you. I wanted to see her again, though, and please believe me that I genuinely want the job, and I’ll do it to the best of my ability.”

Luke inclined his head in acknowledgement of the promise. “And the rest?” he asked, not unkindly. “I don’t like surprises, Carlo. If this is going to come back to bite me, I’d like the full story.”

“I wish I had it,” Carlo said, surprising himself with the bitterness which came into his tone, “but I still don’t know why she left me.”

Unwillingly, he found his mind ranging back over the years, to when he was young and hopelessly in love with a fiery redhead who cooked like a dream…

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