Chapter 3

• NOVEMBER
• Sean Spiridon is even more intimidating in person. It's easier to see why he is so ruthless and feared in the underworld. Heck, if I haven't been killing and spying on men like him since I could remember, I probably would have been scared.
• Instead, I successfully managed to persuade him into giving me a shot at the interview.
• Reina cleares her throat after her boss walks away. I look at her with a small smile, unable to believe she'd kept to her word.
• “Thank you for helping me,” I say to her.
• She rolls her eyes. “Don't thank me. It's not personal. It's for the good of the restaurant.”
• I nod, still smiling. Whether or not it is personal isn’t my concern anymore. She turns and leads the way into the back of the restaurant and I follow her from behind. We pass by some doors until we stop at the room where other participants are in. Reina clears her throat before she begins to address us all.
• “Mr. Spiridon just came in and he is eager to get this done. You are to ditch whatever isn't necessary as you will be heading to the kitchen now.” She stops, giving everybody a chance to do as she ask. I hand her the file containing my fabricated documents.
• “Good. Y'all should come with me.”
• Reina leads us into a large kitchen, larger than I've seen before. Every chef from the looks of it is to have their own space. I start to sweat as I take in the scene, taking note of the glass windows positioned at the far end of the room.
• “Chefs, take your position.” Everybody scrambles to do just that. Nervously, I walk toward the stove closest to the glass.
• “You are going to be on a timer and you are to prepare a dish with whatever ingredients you find in your corner.”
• I eye the pasta and other ingredients positioned on my desk. When I look around, I notice everybody has a pasta too.
• “Mr. Spiridon will be watching you from there,” Reina points to the glass and my eyes almost double over when I see him. He is seated on a chair, clear eyes fixed on us. Or me. I'm not sure.
• Reina blows out a breath. “Good luck Chefs. Wait for the timer to go off.”
• She walks out of the room and the other chefs, who are real chefs, unlike me start grabbing aprons. I freeze. I'm not a real chef. I don't even like cooking. What I know is thanks to my boss, Jacob Shane. Two days of intensive culinary training doesn't make me a chef.
• But I have to pass this. I have to do my best otherwise the agency will skin me alive. I can't fail. There is no room for failure.
• The timer starts counting and I fix my eyes on the pasta. One of the dishes I've been taught to make is pasta. I have to remember everything about how to cook it. I have to get it right.
• When the timer goes off, everybody else in the room starts to run around in a calculated, frenzied movement, grabbing pans and pots. I can't move, for some reason. For some reason, I seem to be paralyzed with fear.
• I can feel him watching me. That hardened gaze he'd turned on me earlier is branding my akin, watching as I stand there while everybody starts chopping and dicing.
• “Get it together, Nova. He is waiting for you to fail so he can kick you out.”
• That will not be happening, so I snap out of my frozen self and start grabbing pots and pan without thinking. I'm not sure exactly what to do but I don't look at other chefs to spy on them. Instead, I grab the knife and start to chop up the veggies, choosing to wing it.
• I wince as the brutal knife slice a part of my finger open which stings. Blood starts to ooze out of it so I go to the sink to wash it off. I feel his eyes follow me. What kind of a chef can't handle a Knife?
• I'm acting like a joke and I have to stop.
• With feigned confidence, I walk back to my stove and continue to cook. I don't think, I just do. I don't know if the carbonara pasta will turn out right but I hope with everything in me that it does. I only got a chance to see the chef make it. I wasn't given the chance to try to cook it. Tyler, the chef who'd taught me to cook, voice floats in my ears.
• “One thing you must know about making carbonara pasta is that everything has to be right, Nova. The flavors, the creaminess, everything has to be balanced. Sometimes, even the best chefs fail to achieve that.”
• I try not to let fear take a hold of me because I'm not the best chef. I'm not even a chef yet it's what has been demanded by Sean Spiridon himself.
• It doesn't take long before the timer starts to countdown and almost every chef starts to run around, trying to finalize their cooking. I do the sand, blending in with then while trying to ignore the lingering feeling that the big boss is watching me. I don't turn to confirm though, afraid I will fumble if I do.
• The timer finally goes off and everybody heaves a breath. The room is packed with flavors. I look at the other chefs beside me, seeing a smile on some of their faces. I can't smile because I'm busy looking at what I've cooked wondering if it will score me a ticket closer to landing a job here or it will be the ultimate doom that will send me back to Korea for good.
• Reina walks into the room at that moment. “Moment of truth, chefs. Get your food on a food cart. Mr. Spiridon will see you now.”
• My heart almost plummets to the ground when she looks at me, a frown on her face. I think she is going to call me but then she looks at the first chef at the far end and asks her to come with her.
• This better be good. It has to be good.