Where does the good go?

Chapter 8

"DID YOU TELL THEM IT WASN'T ME? ", Andrew asks, clearly panicking.

"ik heb niks gezegd Chef. She thinks it's Chef Adrian." Addison explains.

Oh no.

I look at Adrian and he's closing his eyes and smiling lightly. What the heck? Does he think this is funny? Is he so sadistic that he finds happiness when my job is on the line?

Jerk.

"Adrian, would you go instead of Bella? ", Andrew asks and I lose my shit.

"No!", I shout before he replies. "Chef, I'm responsible for ruining the original. And I cooked this dish. I need to take responsibility for my actions, not others", I tell him confidently, though I am anything but that.

"But Adrian is still in charge of the mains, Bella. Even if he didn't make it, he is still responsible. He didn't even taste check your sauce! ", he tries to shut me down. But I have already made my mind.

I smoothen my apron as I walk to the door, "He obviously doesn't want to Chef. I'll take full responsibility for my actions. I'm sorry." Why didn't I just taste the damn sauce?! Oh well, I'm damned anyway.

I walk to the dining hall and look around and immediately know whom I am looking for. Her silver bob shines through the gold lighting making her shed an aura around herself. Her shrewd grey eyes are calculating as she looks anywhere but at the food, and I see her eyes follow Zoe as the young waiter rushes to me in her thick Italian accent," Bella! Where is Chef Andrea? Signora Juliana is getting very impatient!". I watch as the critic widens her eyes in surprise and composes herself quickly as she stands to greet me. I think I imagined the 'surprised' part. 

She's wearing a full sleeve black dress with a plunging V line that still somehow manages to look professional, and her broad belt and gold earrings make her the center of attention in any Universe. I look at Zoe and confirm her suspicions when she looks like she's going to cry, "It's just me for now, Zoe." I whisper.

Not wanting to waste any more time and keep her waiting, I quickly walk forward and put out my hand to the famous critic and use my most confident voice, "Isabella Cooper, the new sous at The Ambrosial." She doesn't smile but I think she's amused, "Juliana Fusco, food critic for The Guardian" Her English accent surprises me, given her Italian last name.

"Such a pleasure to meet you, Juliana. What can I do for you?" I politely ask her.

"Where is Chef Adrian?"

"The Chef's inside, he's-" I answer

"Why isn't he here? I wanted to meet the chef who made this", she interrupts somewhat rudely.

I take a huge breath, "I made it. Was it not to your liking?" She stares at me before she starts laughing.

There are many types of laughter, people who laugh out of happiness are the prettiest, people who laugh at a joke are the most joyous, people who laugh with sarcasm are the saddest, and people who laugh out mocking another, are the cruelest. Juliana Fusco laughed like the cruel kind.

The other diners are rudely interrupted with her laugh and they turn to look at us. "You?", she laughs. "You made that sauce? Aren't you supposed to be a new hire? And aren't you supposed to be cooking your standard New York cheesecake?", she questions rudely. 

"Just ask that boy to stop playing hide and seek and come meet me", she continues in an authoritative voice.

"I made the dish. If you didn't like it, I'd like to hear how I can improve. I'm sure I can handle the criticism. We considered our diners' requests before I went overboard today with the Tuscana stew and I know it's thicker than usual but that was my personal touch to suit the garlic bread. Now what can I do for you as the chef who made the dish?", I ask in a controlled but angry tone.

The dining room is in complete silence, watching our exchange.

"Excuse me?", calls a gruff voice from behind me. I turn around to find black eyes staring at me. He has black hair styled with excessive hair gel and his long face suits his build. The well maintained facial hair and his rich navy blazer make me realize this was the Indian businessman here today for a special occasion.

"I am sorry for the disturbance caused sir, please enjoy your dinner", I try with my best fake smile. "Oh no, not that", he says with his Asian accent. Definitely Indian. "I couldn't help but hear, you made this sauce?", he questions.

Oh crap. How much did I mess up today? Goodbye Amsterdam.

"Yes sir", I say timidly. "Was it not to your liking?", I continue.

"My liking?", he laughs. "You would have been a good stand up comedian if you weren't so good at cooking! It was wonderful! I was meaning to come to thank you personally right after our meal!"

Was this some kind of a joke?

That woman just said she didn't like it! Well, actually she didn't.

I turn to look at Juliana but Andrew catches my eye and he is staring at me. I lock eyes with him, and he smiles. That's all it takes for reality to hit me.

THEY FUCKING LIKE MY DISH!

That Indian businessman drags me to his table and introduces me to his friends, and their smiles and remarks are enough to make me forget the stressful afternoon. The happiness you get when you are truly appreciated from the bottom of the heart is better than any award and food star in The Guardian.

Suddenly someone puts their arm around my shoulder and pulls me to their side. Startled, I look up and see Andrew smiling slightly, "I am sorry gentlemen, can I borrow our chef? We need her to taste the dishes for the next course"

Whaaaaat!

He grins at me and drags me to the kitchen. "They loved it!", he shouts to everyone. 

I'm immediately swarmed by hugs. Jasper, Lucas, and Nikki look like they were just announced cancer-free after years of struggle, Addison smiles like a proud mama, Noah has a small smile while Adrian is expressionless. At least he isn't frowning anymore. Levi and Zoe are taking out the next course but promise to come back for congratulatory hugs while Lara, the young dishwasher also hugs me shyly.

Andrew pulls me from the circle and focuses his blue eyes on my brown, "I apologize for worrying unnecessarily. You were, sorry- are amazing. Please forgive me, sweet Belle"

Oh damn. I should be the one asking for forgiveness for being so stupid and forgetting to get the sauce tasted. But one look at his expression and I'm lost. My brain stops functioning and I can't explain or even say anything.

He continues to look at me, asking for forgiveness and I just nod my head a little and he immediately pulls me into his strong billion-dollar arms and buries his head at the crook of my neck. "Thank you", he gushes and his hot breath hits my skin and it's hotter than the temperature in the kitchen. Hell, it's hotter than fire and my hair stands up.

I have nothing else to say. I am content in his arms, and I think that's when I truly fell in love with him.

My love bubble explodes when I lift my head and see Andrian staring at me. He throws the apron and leaves the kitchen through the back door.

Oh no. What now.