His Forbidden Chef

Chapter2

Zara stood in the middle of the guest suite that was now supposedly hers, staring at the king-sized bed. The room was bigger than her entire old apartment. Soft gray walls, crisp white linens, a massive window overlooking the glittering city skyline. It smelled like expensive nothing — no dust, no life, just sterile perfection. Her two battered suitcases sat by the door, delivered by quiet staff while she was still processing what she’d agreed to.

Forty-five thousand dollars a month.

Eviction notice gone in one signature.

Medical debt that had been choking her for two years — suddenly manageable.

She should feel relief. Instead, her skin still crawled from Alexander Voss’s parting words.

“I was testing if it was really you.”

What kind of man said something like that?

A soft knock made her jump. A middle-aged woman in a crisp uniform entered without waiting for an answer.

“Miss Hale, Mr. Voss requested dinner at eight sharp. He prefers it served in the dining room. Nothing too heavy.”

Zara nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you. I’ll get started.”

She headed to the kitchen. The space was a chef’s dream — stainless steel counters, professional appliances, shelves stocked with expensive ingredients. But it felt cold. Like no one had ever laughed or burned toast in here.

She moved efficiently, pulling out rice, coconut milk, and spices. Her mother’s recipe. The one that had made Alexander react like she’d slapped him.

As the onions hit the hot pan, the rich aroma filled the air. Zara lost herself in the rhythm — chopping, stirring, tasting.

She didn’t notice the shadow in the hallway.

Alexander stood just beyond the doorway, half-hidden by the dim lighting. Arms crossed. Gray eyes fixed on her. He told himself he was only checking that she wasn’t poisoning him or stealing. But he couldn’t look away.

When she reached for a high shelf, her shirt rode up slightly. Alexander’s jaw tightened. He took one involuntary step forward, then stopped himself.

He forced himself back as Zara plated the coconut rice with grilled fish and steamed vegetables. She carried the tray to the dining room at exactly eight o’clock and set the plate down in front of him without a word.

Alexander sat at the head of the long empty table in a black shirt with sleeves rolled up. He stared at the food as if it had personally offended him.

Zara stepped back and waited for feedback.

He took one bite. Then another. He didn’t look at her.

“It’s acceptable,” he said flatly.

“Acceptable?”. She wondered

Zara kept her face neutral. “Noted. I’ll adjust the spice level tomorrow if you want.”

He kept eating in silence while she stood there. After a minute she turned to leave.

“Stay until I finish,” he said without looking up.

She stopped. Pride flared in her chest, but the eviction notice flashed in her mind. She stayed.

The penthouse was too quiet. There was no music. No other staff. She had seen only one other person since she arrived. Alexander apparently didn’t keep staff long. Everyone was temporary. She thought. She already felt like the next one to go.

When he finally pushed the plate away, half the food still there, Zara spoke again, tone careful but edged with quiet pride.

“Sir, do you still need anything? I usually study a little at night — online business courses. It won’t interfere with work.”

Alexander paused. He finally looked up, His gray eyes were locked on hers. Cold and flat.

“You’re here to cook and clean, Miss Hale. Not to pursue side projects.”

Zara’s chin lifted slightly. “It’s just business basics. It won’t affect my duties.”

“This is not a school,” he said. “You cook. You clean. You stay out of sight. That is the job.”

“I understand the job,” Zara said evenly. “The classes are my own time, after my duties.”

Alexander leaned back. He didn’t like the way she answered. Most women would have nodded and apologized. She didn’t.

He stood and moved too close. Zara didn’t step back.

“Rules are simple,” he said. “No unnecessary conversation. No questions about me. No touching anything that isn’t work. And no physical contact. Ever.”

Zara raised an eyebrow. “Physical contact? I wasn’t planning on hugging you, Mr. Voss.”

His jaw tightened. For a split second irritation flashed across his face, then it was gone.

“You will learn quickly or you will leave tonight,” he said. “I don’t repeat warnings.”

He walked past her. Close enough that his sleeve almost brushed her arm. He jerked away like she was contagious and kept walking.

Zara let out a breath.

She cleared the table and washed the dishes in the kitchen. While she worked, she felt eyes on her. She turned, but no one was there. Just empty doorways and cameras high on the walls.

Alexander stood in the dark security room, watching the kitchen feed on the monitor. Arms crossed. His expression was blank.

He told himself it was only to make sure she didn’t steal or break anything. Staff never lasted long here, especially women. They always wanted more — more attention and conversations with him. Then they tried to get closer and they often lied.

But this one cooked like it was nothing. And when she talked back, it didn’t feel like the usual games.

He didn’t like the way his pulse jumped when her sleeve almost touched him.

He switched off the monitor and walked to his own wing of the penthouse.

He didn’t like the way his pulse jumped when her sleeve almost touched him.

He switched off the monitor and walked to his own wing of the penthouse.

Zara finished cleaning, went to her room, locked the door, and opened her laptop for her business course. Debt or no debt, she wasn’t going to stop learning. Not for him or anyone.

As for Alex. He hated anything he couldn’t control.