Warning:Contains sexual content and power imbalance
Rody Lamoree never thought he'd own a Michelin-star restaurant, let alone one that had become the culinary heartbeat of Paris. Fait Avec Amour wasn't just a restaurant; it was a symbol. With its sleek black and gold decor and impeccably polished floors, it drew the city's elite to experience its innovative dishes that danced on the palate. Rody had built this empire through years of hard work, elbow grease, and a knack for combining flavors in ways that defied convention. He had risen to fame as a chef, his rugged good looks often attracting as much attention as his food.
But for all his success, Rody was still just a man. A man who made decisions based on impulse, passion, and sometimes, dangerous desires.
That's how Vincent Charbonneau had found his way into Rody's life.
Vincent wasn't like the other applicants who came through the kitchen doors, hoping to gain a spot in Rody's highly coveted brigade. He was quiet, with pale skin that stood in stark contrast to his dark, messy hair. There was a nervous energy about him, like he didn't belong in the kitchen, and yet he moved with a certain grace-a fluidity that intrigued Rody the moment he saw him.
"I've always wanted to be a chef," Vincent had said that first day, his voice soft but steady. "But... I never had the chance to go to culinary school."
Rody remembered the way Vincent's dark eyes had pierced through him, a vulnerability beneath the surface. It was enough to make Rody forget about the pile of resumes on his desk, the Michelin inspectors who could drop by at any moment, and the dozens of customers waiting for their next meal. There was something magnetic about Vincent, something that made Rody throw caution to the wind and offer him a job.
That was a few months ago.
Now, Vincent was in his kitchen, making mistakes-big ones. His plating was inconsistent, sauces over-reduced, and sometimes he'd forget basic steps in recipes. Rody had his limits, but every time he considered letting Vincent go, the younger man found a way to... distract him.
---
Rody stood in his office, leaning against the edge of his desk. His hands ran through his messy auburn hair as he tried to make sense of the latest feedback from one of their high-profile clients. There had been complaints about the consistency of Vincent's dishes, again. The others in the kitchen had covered for him, but it couldn't keep happening. The pressure was mounting.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Before he could answer, Vincent slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him.
"Rody," Vincent said, his voice low. His fingers fidgeted nervously, but his eyes were locked onto Rody's. There was always a faint trembling in Vincent's hands when he was nervous. It was subtle, barely noticeable unless you were paying attention, but Rody always noticed.
Rody exhaled sharply, the tension between them thick in the air. "Vincent, this has to stop. You're not keeping up in the kitchen, and I can't keep covering for you."
Vincent bit his lip and stepped closer, his slender body sliding between Rody and the desk. "I know... I'm trying. Please, Rody." His voice was almost a whisper, seductive and pleading all at once. Vincent reached out, placing a hand on Rody's chest, his fingers slowly sliding down over the hard muscles beneath his shirt.
"Vincent," Rody began, but his voice faltered as Vincent's hand traveled lower, his fingers playing with the waistband of Rody's slacks.
Vincent leaned in, pressing his body flush against Rody's. His lips hovered close to Rody's ear, breath warm against his skin. "Let me show you how much I appreciate you giving me a chance," he whispered, his voice dripping with lust.
