Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Robbie kept staring at her like a sad little whipped puppy. They’d clearly had an argument and Khlo was giving him the cold shoulder. It was pretty pathetic watching her lanky brother trail after the girl. He insisted on doing her work, and she wanted nothing to do with him, which meant that neither teen’s work was being done and the rest of the team had to pick up the slack. Iris could tell that her father was getting annoyed by the way he constantly barked orders—uncharacteristic of him—at the pair of them.
Speaking of which… a kerfuffle broke out at the dessert workstation.
“Let me,” Robbie pleaded, trying to grab a tray of kataifi from Khlo.
“No,” the girl protested. “I can do it myself.”
“Khlo… you…” She made a sharp movement away from him and the kataifi went flying off the tray in all directions.
Everybody froze for an instant and all eyes flew to Jason Hughes. Normally mild-mannered and an awesome boss, the man had zero tolerance when it came to incompetence in his kitchen.
Iris watched her father’s jaw clench in that familiar way that said he was trying very, very hard to rein in his temper, and she winced.
“Robinson Burke Hughes,” Uh oh, full name. Robbie was in deep shit now. “You and Chloe need to clean up that mess and then I want you out of this kitchen. You’ve both been useless today anyway!”
“But Dad,” Robbie began, in his whiny I’m-so-misunderstood voice.
“No buts. We’ll have to make do without you.”
“Mum…” Robbie tried, swinging his gaze over to their mother who stood with her arms folded over her chest, her expression entirely unsympathetic.
“You heard your father. Clean this up and go home—straight home—right now.”
Khlo glared at Robbie who gave her a surly look in return.
“You made the mess,” she said stubbornly. “You clean it up!”
Oh bravo, Iris heartily agreed with that sentiment. Robbie was wholly responsible for the mess. He should have left Khlo alone when she gave him clear signals that she was angry with him. Iris would have a talk with her little brother later about respecting a woman’s boundaries. If her parents didn’t get to him first.
Khlo whipped off her white apron before flouncing out of the kitchen, nimbly sidestepping the sticky mounds of ruined kataifi scattered all over the floor. This was definitely not how Jason and Rosa Hughes ran their kitchen.
“F’fuck’s sake,” Robbie muttered beneath his breath and Iris grimaced. Their mother did not condone profanity. Even Robbie froze after saying it and slanted the woman a wary glance. Her expression had gone murderous. He uttered a hasty sorry and, showing more wisdom than Iris had ever given him credit for, meekly bent to clean up the sticky mess on the floor.
“Right, people, back to work!” their father commanded his troops with the confident authority of a seasoned general.
Everybody instantly obeyed and the small, efficient army of servers and kitchen staff began to ebb and flow around the surly Robbie, who was hunkered on the floor with a tray, gathering up broken bits of sticky dessert. Iris hopped to her previous assignment, loading up on the dolmades and spanakopita to refill the empty chafing dishes out in the grand ballroom where the buffet dinner service was in full swing.
Iris was happy this wasn’t a sit-down meal service because she could flit in and out of the reception area with little chance of being noticed and recognized by the guests. Her thick hair was tightly gathered in a neat bun at the top of her head and she wore the company uniform of crisp long-sleeved white shirt, black waistcoat, black trousers, black bow tie, and polished black brogues on her feet.
After she deposited the food, she headed back to the kitchen, neatly dodging a pair of children playing tag on the dance floor, and careening straight into a solid male form in the process. His hands came up to steady her, loosely encircling her upper arms.
“Oof,” she gasped, rubbing her nose, which had hit the bony ridge of the man’s clavicle. “So sorry, I wasn’t loo—”
She looked up and the words died on her lips, as she registered exactly who it was she was staring at. But it was impossible. There was no way he could be here. How could he be here?
“Trystan?” she whispered as the world simply froze around her, ceasing to exist entirely while she tried to make sense of this impossibility.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Why are you here? Do you know the Tavoularises?”
“What?” he asked, looking completely bemused as he stared at her as if he were seeing her for the very first time, and sounding perplexed by her question.
Well, as long as she wasn’t the only bewildered party here.
His hands tightened briefly on her biceps, reminding her that he still held her in his grip and she wondered if she should protest that. She was so confused by his presence that she had no idea how to react to it.