Divorce to Destiny: Reclaiming My CEO Husband by Anney GW

539 Back in the Fire

(Cass)

By the time the last dish is stacked, my arms feel like they're made of lead. My back aches, my hands sting from endless scrubbing, and I swear I'll smell like onion peels and garlic skins for the next month. It's nearly two a.m. But I'm still standing.

Barely.

The Brussels estate kitchen is a monster. The lunch service alone had my head spinning-three different menus running at once, dignitaries arriving early, last-minute changes because some VIP decided they're suddenly vegan but still want the flavor of foie gras. Fine dining is bullshit.

And I love it.

I grab a clean cloth and wipe the sink and counters dry, catching my blurry reflection in the shiny steel of the dishwasher. Flushed cheeks, hair barely contained in my headscarf, exhaustion written all over my face.

The executive chef-aka Satan in a toque-barks at the nightshift team, sending them scrambling into action while I keep my head down. I learned that trick fast.

Do the grunt work, keep your mouth shut, don't whine, and maybe maybe they won't chew you up and spit you out.

But that doesn't mean I'm invisible.

"Cass," Chef snaps, barely looking up from the clipboard he's glaring at. "We start prep for the state dinner tomorrow. Early call. Five a.m."

I blink. "What?"

He lifts his head, arching an eyebrow. "Problem?"

I shake my head. "No. Just... it's almost two a.m."

He stares. "You want to be the best chef? That's the job. Get used to it."

I nod, ignoring the knot in my stomach. "Got it, Chef."

He grunts and moves on to yelling at someone else, and I exhale. My fingers dig into the cloth, my body screaming for sleep.

"Cass!"

Fuck, what now? "Yes Chef?"

"You'll be prepping for your own appetizer for dinner service. The scallop dish. Enough for one hundred serves." He gives me the nod that means I did good. Better than good, he chose my dish... again! Pride surges through me and I swear I'm not going to cry. "Yes Chef! Thank you, Chef."

He just walks off. God I need to sleep and now I'm bouncing off the walls.

I slip off my sodden apron, grab my bag, and push through the back door into the cool night air.

Brussels smells different at night-fresh, damp, a little smoky from the nearby chimneys. The estate is quiet, lights glowing from the windows, the real world feels far away.

I roll my shoulders and make my way toward the cottage. I fire up a cigarette. My body is a wreck, my feet hate me, but there's something satisfying about knowing I survived another day. And I got another appetizer over the line. Worth it.

then I see

Viktor.

to the cottage,

walking. "You

"Checking

Pass. This will do me,

a little.

what everyone says. But I have to have

"I'm not perfect."

shit. Why are you

"I couldn't sleep."

I scoff. "Convenient."

so unless you've got a legit reason to

to ask if you

I freeze.

simple question. But coming from

out of his comfort zone like that. He does things. He decides things. He doesn't

right now, he's

I

not totally

from the memory of that kiss.

then headlights cut through the

the fuck is driving at two in the morning? Maybe

car rolls down the driveway, smooth and silent. I see the window roll down. I see the smile

stops. Then it

beside me, shifting like

The car door opens.

in skinny jeans and a clinging

than

the perfect

spent a

I cannot with these two right now. I swallow hard, forcing my expression into something neutral. "What the hell

too, Cass. I told you I would

move, but the tension

you'd let me

amusement flashing in his dark

this crap. I have to start in

can

exhales sharply through his nose. "No

at him. "I

Here they go. Fighting over their

this

have