Allergic to you

Two

Leonie pov

Tuesday morning arrived like a decision.

I was standing outside Blackwood Manor at 8:00 AM. I had my knives with me. My big book was digging into my side. My heart was beating fast. The big house was looming over me. It was made of stone and had iron gates. The windows looked like eyes staring back at me.

I thought to myself I can still leave.

Then I thought about the notice to leave my apartment. The hospital bills were piling up. I thought about my moms face.

So I rang the doorbell.

Mrs. Holloway answered the door quickly. She looked me up and down with her eyes. I was dressed in a chef coat, dark jeans and work boots. I had my hair tucked under a hat. I did not wear any makeup or perfume. I did not want to give away my secret.

"Leo Chen, " she said. It was not a question.

"Yes ma'am " I replied.

"Follow me, " she said. "Mr. Black is in the kitchen. He does not like to wait."

I walked inside following her, my boots making no sound on the marble floor.

The kitchen was really nice. There were copper pots hanging from the ceiling. There was a wooden cutting board in the middle of the room. It had lots of scars from being used a lot. I could see the herb garden through the glass wall. It had rosemary, thyme and basil all covered in dew.

Then I saw Jason Black. He was standing by the window looking out at the morning light.

He was taller than I thought. He was broader too. He filled the room with his presence. He was wearing a black sweater. His sleeves were pushed up showing his arms. His dark hair was messy. His jaw was really sharp.

He turned around when I walked in.

His brown eyes looked at me. They scanned me like I was a piece of meat. He was looking for flaws.

"Leo, " he said. His voice was low and rough.

"I was taught that being early is being on time sir " I said.

He smiled a little. "We will see if you still call me sir after an hour in my kitchen."

He took a step closer to me. Then another. I could smell him. He smelled like sandalwood and smoke. There was something too dark and male. It made my stomach flip.

"You have thirty minutes, " he said. "Make one dish. You can use anything in the kitchen." He looked at my hands. "No pressure."

Then he walked over to a stool. Sat down. He folded his arms. Just watched me.

I turned to the stove. I tried to remember how to breathe.

---

I decided to make something simple. Something I could make in my sleep. I made eggs in red wine sauce. It was a dish from my time in Lyon. It was not fancy. It was hard to make.

My hands moved on their own. I chopped the shallots fine. I cooked the bacon until it was crispy. I poured the wine slowly. The kitchen was filled with the smell of Burgundy and butter and thyme.

I could feel his eyes on me the whole time.

Every time I sliced the knife, every time I stirred the spoon, every time I bent to check the oven I felt his gaze on the back of my neck. It was hot and heavy. My binder felt tighter. My hands were sweaty.

Do not look at him, I told myself. Just cook.

I put the dish on a plate. I made two poached eggs, nestled in red wine sauce, topped with crispy bacon and fresh parsley. I put the plate in front of him and then stepped back.

"The spoon is on your right, " I said. My voice was steady.

He did not use the spoon. He picked up the plate. Smell it. Then he drank from the plate.

The sound he made was really surprising.

It was a deep sound. It was like a groan. His eyes closed. His throat moved as he swallowed. When he opened his eyes again they were darker. They looked hungrier.

"Sit down, " he said.

"Sir?" I replied.

"I said sit down, " he said. He nodded to the stool beside him. "You are not my employee yet. Sit down."

I sat down. Our knees were almost touching. I could see the scar above his eyebrow, the stubble on his jaw the way his pulse beat in his neck.

He pushed the plate towards me. "Taste it, " he said.

"I know what it tastes like, " I said.

"Taste it with me, " he said.

He picked up the spoon. Dipped it into the sauce. Then he held it out to me.

He wants me to share his spoon, I thought. His spoon. In his mouth. Then mine.

My hand was shaking as I took the spoon. The metal was warm from his lips. I closed my eyes. Tasted.

The sauce was perfect. It was smooth and rich.. All I could think about was that my mouth was touching something that had just been in his.

"Good, " he said softly. "You are hired."

I was really surprised. " Like that?" I asked.

"Yes, like that, " he said. He leaned back. His eyes never left my face. "You will have breakfast at seven. Dinner at seven. You will have your room on the third floor. Mrs. Holloway will show you."

I stood up. My legs felt like water. "Thank you Mr. Black " I said.

"One more thing, " he said. He stood up too. He was really tall. He was close enough that I had to tilt my head to see his face. "I have a condition. You know about it."

"Yes sir " I said.

"Then you know why I only hire men, " he said. His voice was low. "So I need you to understand something, Leo."

He reached out. Touched my wrist. It was a touch but my whole body felt it.

"No women in my kitchen, " he said. "No women in my house. No female cooks, no guests, no female anything." His finger traced a line down my palm. "If I find out you have been lying to me about anything..."

"What happens?" I whispered.

His hand dropped. He stepped back. The heat was gone.

"You do not want to find out, " he said.

He walked out of the kitchen without saying another word.

I stood there with my wrist still tingling where he had touched me, my heart beating fast.

He does not know, I told myself. He cannot know.

The way he looked at me, that hunger, that suspicion, that intensity I knew he was already looking for my secrets.

I had just given him the first one.