I tried to speak, but the words tangled in my mouth.
“I was just bringing your wine,” I said. My voice sounded thin. I lifted my hand from the tray and began to step away.
His hand moved fast. His fingers wrapped around my wrist and held me in place. I felt his grip travel through my arm and settle in my chest.
“Who are you?” His voice was low at first, then sharper. “Who the f**k are you?”
“My name is Jess,” I said. “I am the cook. The new cook.” My heart beat hard enough that I thought he could hear it.
His hardened expression relaxed. The tightness in his jaw eased. He let go of my wrist, though the heat of his hand stayed there.
“Ah. Yes. The cook,” he said. “Your meal was delicious. Truly. No one has made that dish as well as you did.”
I swallowed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“
