Demon’s Revenge (High Demon #5)(32)
Author: Connie Suttle

"I’d go too, if I thought I could get away with it," Perdil grumped and terminated the call.

"I want you to take off your apron and come with me," Zendeval Rjjn was standing on the other side of my prep table as I was plating up an oxberry tart with fresh cream.

"Where are we going?" I wasn’t planning to go anywhere with him if I didn’t know what the destination was beforehand.

"I wish to go to Chrestin’s and speak with the pastry cook. I want you to tell him what is wrong with his desserts. I get more complaints from there than any of my other restaurants."

"I don’t think he’ll appreciate the words coming from me," I pointed out. "I gave the information to you on the two desserts I sampled. I haven’t tried everything he makes."

"Then we’ll ask for a good sampling. We’ll try a cross-section of his desserts and you’ll tell me what the problem is."

"I don’t see that this will help you in the least," I snapped, still angry that he’d eaten my fish stew the night before. I’d had a cold cheese sandwich for dinner instead, after he and Perdil left the apartment. "Why don’t you just tell him the dessert menu needs to be improved or you’ll look for someone else?"

"I will, unless you think he has the capability to improve." Zendeval’s black eyes searched my face before traveling lower. I was covered by a cook’s jacket to keep from ruining a good blouse and pants. At l Kd pthat he haeast he wasn’t rewarded by a view of tight clothing. I had no desire to reveal anything to Zendeval Rjjn. I was angry, too, that Perdil had gone out six times during the day to speak to customers, posing as the one who’d created the sex by dessert confection.

Yes, they were listing it as sex by dessert, and were printing shirts with the new logo on it, depicting a large-breasted woman with a scoop of ice cream in the valley between her br**sts. I wanted to scream over the whole thing as Zendeval’s eyes slowly rose toward mine. At least I was covered up and hoped Zendeval didn’t have a good imagination. He was a cretin, in my estimation.

"Come, we will go to Chrestin’s. Take off that terrible jacket and wear your hair loose." I stared at him as I removed the coat and took my hair out of its usual braid, promising myself that Zendeval Rjjn and I would have a lengthy talk after my job was finished here.

After I tossed him through a wall or something equally as sturdy, first.

Chapter 8

"Just keep folding and rolling the pastry like this," I demonstrated for the poor cook, who looked flustered that Zendeval Rjjn was there and watching. "The layers are what make it flaky and crisp. Don’t leave it too thick, now. Your recipe is good, it just needs a little more physical labor to make it great." I stepped aside and let poor Welt work a while.

"See, that’s enough right there. Now, take your berry mixture here," we poured some of it out and folded dough over it, running the tool over the edges to seal the tart. "All you have to do is bake it now and you’ll have something to be proud of." We worked on a mousse after that, plus a few other things before tasting.

"This is very good." We’d cooked a bit of the pastry in a shell and added the mousse, topping it with cream and fresh berries.

"It is good," Zendeval was eating a little of everything we made.

"Are you really serving gishi fruit ice cream at Galedaro’s?" Welt ventured to ask.

"Yes. We are," Zendeval’s tone warned Welt not to ask any other questions. He didn’t.

"This has been most helpful," Welt gave me a smile instead. He meant well, I just couldn’t imagine that someone had trained him so poorly.

"I want you to contact Reah if you have difficulty preparing other desserts," Zendeval grumbled at Welt. "Come, Reah, we will go back, now. Do you want something else to eat before you go home?" We’d worked past the time for me to leave the kitchens at Galedaro’s.

"I feel a little ill from eating too many sweets," I put a hand to my stomach. "Thank you for the offer, but no."

"But I have to make up for taking your dinner last night," he said. "Perdil was quite shocked that I didn’t realize it at the time."

"It’s rude not to offer food or refreshments to your guests," I muttered.

"Yes. You are correct. I will remember that next time." I blinked up at him. He was managing five of the highest rated resorts in the Reth Alliance, and was forgetting his manners? I wanted to shake my head and didn’t.

"Where do you get your hair dyed?" he asked, fingering a few strands of my hair. I didn’t N a ot34"like anyone touching my hair that I didn’t know well.

"I don’t. This is my natural color," I said, trying to move away from him.

"You were born with this?" He lifted the strands to his nose and sniffed.

"I imagine it smells like cake and pastry now," I said tartly. Likely it did—I’d been baking most of the day. "Can I have my hair back?" I almost jerked it from Zendeval’s hand.

"You make me forget my manners, Reah. I have business to attend to. Perhaps I will see you tomorrow." We were at the bank of elevators and he stepped onto the one that would carry him to the penthouse. I watched as the doors closed on him, fuming silently. Of all the cursed luck, to get someone like him for an employer.

"Come on, you need protein," Ry placed a plate of chicken in front of me. He’d gone to get it downstairs. I told him I’d tasted too many desserts at Chrestin’s, so this was his solution. "Just a couple of bites. Come on," he coaxed softly. "Then we’ll put you to bed." I ate three bites and that was all I could stand. Heaving sounded good right then. Ry did put me in the bed after helping me undress, then dampened a towel in warm water and laid it across my belly.

"There. We’ll get rid of that ache," he crooned.

He no longer remembered his name. At times, that bothered him. Now, he lifted and loaded, lifted and loaded. That was what they’d told him to do. When he slept—the few hours he was allowed—he dreamt of strange things. Wondrous, at times. Imagined that he was capable of things most people couldn’t envision. But those were only dreams that evaporated upon waking, when someone kicked him and he rose again, to stand in the long lines to receive a small meal that wasn’t fit for animals to consume. Then he’d be led to another waiting ship. There, he’d do his duty, unloading and carrying, sometimes for clicks without a break.

Some of his companions dropped while they worked, mostly from lack of water. Some of them were revived. Others were killed where they lay, begging for something to drink with their last breath. He paid them no mind; he was instructed to do so. Nothing mattered any longer, not even the absence of his name.