"You've got serious plating skills," he said, voice smooth, stepping closer. "And these flavor combinations… excellent."
I swallowed, hands tightening on my tray. "Thank… thank you," I murmured, trying to keep my eyes on the desserts instead of him. Keep it together. Just desserts.
He moved closer, his presence pressing into my awareness. "You're… really beautiful," he murmured.
I shifted back subtly, my chest tightening. Oh no. Not this.
"You're too beautiful to be a private chef," he continued, voice low, almost teasing. "You could be a boss lady in my penthouse."
I met his gaze calmly. "I… enjoy cooking. It's… not a problem."
His eyes darkened with something I couldn't name—a hunger, a want, a desire that made my pulse spike. My stomach twisted.
Then his thumb brushed my cheek. Instantly, I pulled back. "Back off," I hissed, voice sharper than I expected.
But he didn't stop. He stepped closer, hands moving to my waist, pressing me near him. "I know what you want," he whispered, voice low and dangerous. "And I can make all your dreams come true."
Panic erupted in me. I struggled, twisting and pushing him away, my mind screaming, Stop! Stop! Stop! His lips leaned dangerously close, and his hands—he tried to grab inappropriately.
Then a loud, commanding voice cut through everything: "STOP!!!"