Leigh's Pov
"You heard me." Varek retorted and I swallowed.
"I... I can't."
His eyebrows lifted. "You can't?"
"I'd rather stay in the kitchen."
Silence settled between us. Varek slowly closed the clipboard and rested it on the counter. "That's an interesting answer."
"I'll plate everything," I said, forcing my voice to stay level. "Someone else can serve it."
"Someone else?" He laughed once, but there wasn't an ounce of humor in it. "You've spent the last week acting like this kitchen belongs to you. You've corrected our inventory, reorganized our pantry, cooked meals half this club won't stop talking about — and now that the President wants dinner served properly, you suddenly decide carrying a tray is beneath you?"
"It's not beneath me."
"Then what is it?"
I looked away. "I ju
