the pass, watching her, his piercing gaze pulling at her like a magnet. "Francesca," his voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. "Garnish for table six. Now." She blinked

unning smoothly." "Good." Luca leaned against the counter, dark eyes never leaving hers. "Tell me, Francesca, what do you see yourself doing in the future?" She blinked, thrown off guard. "What do you mean?" Luca straightened, his expression unreadable. "I need someone... someone strong for what's to come." His words were vague, but the weight behind them was unmistakable. Francesca frowned, a knot forming in her stomach. "What's to come?" He didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied her, his gaze intense, measuring. "You'll find out soon enough. But I need you to be ready. I see the potential in you, Francesca. You're more than just a chef." Her pulse quickened. Confusion and curiosity tangled inside her. Was he talking about the job? Could he be discussing something else? "I'm not sure what you mean," she said carefully, her voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. Luca smiled, a small, knowing curve of his lips. "Don't worry. You'll understand soon enough." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Francesca standing alone, her mind racing. What had he meant? What did Luca really want from her? The rest of the day dragged on, hours bleeding into one another in a blur of prep work and kitchen chaos. But as the shift neared its end, the air seemed to shift. Luca entered the kitchen, his movements smooth and predatory. "Francesca," he said, his voice low, "you've done well today." She looked up, her heart racing despite herself. "Thank you." His eyes lingered on her a beat longer than necessary. "I think you've earned a reward." Francesca raised an eyebrow. "A reward?" Luca's smile was dangerous, his eyes dark with intent. "Dinner. With me." The words lingered in the air, akin to a challenge. Her ribs clenched, a tremor rolling through her chest. Should she go? Should she say no? But the idea of be