Three Suitors: One Dream Man

His game

Ember’s POV

Suddenly everything went silent in Ember & Thyme, the kind of silence that didn’t belong in a kitchen like mine, heavy and unnatural, like the air itself had paused, and then the crash came, sharp and violent, glass shattering against the floor, echoing louder than it should have, and for a moment I just stood there staring at the broken cup at my feet, my fingers still trembling from how hard I had thrown it, from how little control I had in that instant, and I knew...deep down...that it wasn’t just the cup that had broken, it was something inside me, something that didn’t crack easily.

Heads turned, of course they did, but it didn’t matter, none of it did, because all I could feel was the pressure in my chest, tight and suffocating, the kind that made it hard to breathe, and the kitchen went quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that made everything worse.

“Ember…” Marcus’s voice came, serious this time, stripped of its usual teasing edge, and that alone told me how bad things had gotten.

I didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at anyone, my eyes dropping back to my phone like maybe if I stared long enough the words would change, the headline would disappear, reality would fix itself, but it didn’t...if anything, it got worse.

“OFFICIAL VENUE CHANGED: LUXORIA DINING TO HOST TONIGHT’S CONTEST FOLLOWING HYGIENE CONCERNS AT EMBER & THYME.”

For a second I just stared, then a laugh slipped out, sharp and hollow, disbelief laced through it. “You’re kidding me… right?” I said, but even I knew I wasn’t asking a real question.

“This is sabotage,” Marcus said, stepping closer, his posture tight, ready, nothing like his usual relaxed self. “Straight-up sabotage.”

Of course it was, it had to be, no one moved this fast without planning it, no one hit this precisely without knowing exactly where to hurt.

Daniel stepped beside me then, calm against the storm raging inside me, like he always was, like he always tried to be. “Look at me,” he said softly.

I hesitated because I knew what he’d see if I did rage, humiliation, something raw and unfamiliar that I didn’t like showing but his voice came again, firmer this time, “Ember.”

I exhaled and turned, forcing myself to meet his eyes, steady even when I wasn’t, and his gaze searched mine, grounding and unshaken. “We don’t react emotionally,” he said. “Not now.”

A dry, humorless chuckle escaped me. “Oh really? Because I’d love to meet the person who just dragged my restaurant through the mud and not react,” I shot back, the anger rising despite myself, because this wasn’t just business, this was personal.

Marcus smirked darkly. “Say the word. I’ll bring him here.”

Daniel shot him a look. “Not helping.”

“I’m offering solutions.”

“Violent ones.”

Marcus raised his hands slightly. “Fine. Peaceful chef mode activated.”

I shook my head faintly, but it didn’t ease the pressure in my chest, didn’t calm the storm, because deep down I already knew who this was, who could pull something like this off this cleanly, this quickly.

“Alex Dane…” I whispered, the name bitter on my tongue.

My phone rang, and for a second my heart jumped, thinking it might be him, but it wasn’t it was Gareth Heath, and a small flicker of relief slipped through me.

“Ember,” his voice came calm and controlled. “I saw the news. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically, even though it was far from the truth.

“You don’t sound fine.”

I exhaled slowly. “They moved the competition. Luxoria is hosting now.”

There was a pause, then, “I expected something like this.”

My eyes darkened slightly. “You did?”

“Ambitious men play dirty,” he said quietly. “Especially when they feel threatened.”

Threatened. The word settled deep, sharp and steady.

“Do you think he’s threatened by me?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

“I think,” he replied, “you’re exactly the kind of competition men like Alex Dane don’t underestimate.”

Something in me steadied at that, just enough to keep me from unraveling.

“Listen to me,” he continued. “Don’t lose focus tonight. Let them play their games. The winner is who plays better.”

I closed my eyes briefly, holding onto that, letting it anchor me. “I will.”

“Good. Now go remind them who you are.”

The call ended, and for a moment I just stood there, breathing, gathering the pieces of myself, then I looked up to find Marcus and Daniel both watching me, waiting, and I knew what they were waiting for direction, control, strength.

“Well?” Marcus asked.

I reached for my chef coat, my fingers steady now, movements deliberate, controlled, and if they wanted a reaction, they weren’t going to get it. “Let’s face it,” I said, because there was no other option.

Later, when we arrived at Luxoria Dining, I understood immediately why people feared them, because it wasn’t just luxury, it was power wrapped in control, quiet and overwhelming, crystal chandeliers casting golden light across polished marble floors, every detail precise, expensive, intentional, and for a brief moment even I felt it the weight of it.

Marcus let out a low whistle. “Okay… I hate them, but this place? I respect it.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” I said, tapping his back lightly, though part of me agreed.

Daniel leaned closer. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I replied again, the lie easier this time, smoother, practiced.

I didn’t show weakness, not here, not in his territory.

We were escorted into the competition kitchen, and the moment I stepped in, I felt it the pressure, the eyes, the shift in the air and then I saw them, two women in sleek black uniforms, movements sharp and precise, controlled to perfection, and they didn’t look like chefs, they looked like weapons.

“Luxoria’s team,” Marcus murmured.

One of them glanced at me, a small, knowing smile forming on her lips, subtle but deliberate, a challenge, and I ignored it, forcing my focus back where it needed to be. “Focus,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

The competition began, flames rising, knives moving, time blurring into motion and heat and rhythm, my body moving on instinct, on training, on everything I had built, but even in the middle of it something felt wrong, like I was being watched too closely, too many eyes, whispers cutting through the air, phones lifted, cameras angled, turning this into something more than a competition.

Marcus moved faster than I’d ever seen, sharp and efficient. “Sauce. Plate. Garnish.” Done.

Daniel stood beyond the line, watching me, steady, silent, an anchor, and every time our eyes met he nodded, a quiet reassurance I’ve got this, you’ve got this and I held onto that, I needed to.

Until my phone buzzed.

I ignored it.

Then it buzzed again.

And again.

Persistent.

Wrong.

“Ember,” Daniel said quietly. “Check it.”

Something in his tone made my stomach drop, and I picked it up, opened the screen, and everything inside me went cold.

More articles.

More accusations.

Fake images.

“INSIDE EMBER & THYME: SHOCKING HYGIENE FOOTAGE SURFACES.”

My hands trembled despite myself. “No… no…” I whispered, because this wasn’t just sabotage anymore, this was destruction.

“This guy isn’t even hiding it anymore,” Marcus muttered, anger sharp in his voice, but I barely heard him because I felt it, that presence, that weight, that unmistakable stare.

Slowly, I lifted my head.

And there, on the upper balcony, he stood.

Watching.

Alex Dane.

One hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass, completely still, completely calm, untouched by the chaos he had created, like this was entertainment, like I was the show, and then he lifted the glass slightly, a silent toast, and smiled.

My fingers tightened, nails pressing into my palm, grounding me before I did something reckless, something I couldn’t take back, my chest burning with anger, but beneath it something colder settled in, something sharper.

Clarity.

Because in that moment I understood, completely and without doubt.

This wasn’t just sabotage.

This wasn’t just a competition.

This was war.