@zombiebunny97 requested 17, 42, 21, 38 with Tom. I hope you like it.
17. It’s just a blind date! What’s the worst that could happen?” “I could literally die”
21 Your lips are getting really close to mine.”
38 Your face is heating up, is it something I said?
42 I desperately want to take you out for dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me.”
Warning: sexual innuendo, and fluff.
“It’s just a blind date! What’s the worst that could happen?” Your boss Chef Hiddleston chuckled. After hearing you bitch about you friends setting you up on some date with a guy you’ve never meet. You had become quite comfortable around Tom in the kitchen. After all you were his sous chef. And the late nights and early morning you both spent, had formed a bond with the handsome British chef.
Sure in the beginning you both had been at each other throats. He was arrogant when he first stepped in taking the place you had hope to get. But it fell to the owners nephew. It’s not like you didn’t get the promotion as sous chef. But it wasn’t what you wanted. You knew that kitchen like the back of your hand. Everyone respected you. Then he showed up. The first day you met him you wanted to slap that smug extremely sexy face of his. He was sex on legs. His deep accent could do a number on you if he said the the right words.
“I could literally die.” You huffed. Sure it was easy for him. He just look at a girl and she came on the spot. You were average and worked more then needed. That’s what he liked about you after the first six months, he realized how much of an asset you were. That was when he started to flirt with you. Though you only thought he was being nice. After 2 years and him sleeping with every girl that worked at the restaurant. The two of you had odd friendship. Sure it didn’t stop him from trying to get into your pants. But you weren’t that type of girl. You wanted romance not Wham Bam Thank you mama.
“Your not going to die.” Tom rolled his eyes. “Besides your meeting him here tonight. So if anything goes wrong just get me. But I think it will be fine maybe you get lucky and that little quim of your will finally get a good pounding, god knows you need it.” Tom smirked and you scoffed at the man. After two year you picked up on his British terms. Smacking him hard in the chest.
“Hey asshole. My sex life is none of your concern.” Oh if he wasn’t so damn hot you may have filed sexual harassment on him.
“My concern is that your so damn uptight, and grumpy. You know if you’d just let me take you, just for a few rounds.” Tom wiggled his eyebrow.
“Oh please like You could have me.” You laughed. “Let alone satisfy me.” You waved your hand at him, going back to your prep. Before you knew it Tom was in your space, his lean body pressed against your backside. Making you drop the knife on the cutting board. Dipping his head down, lips ghosting near your ear.
“Oh I can have you any way I want you.” He hummed. Making your breath hitch. “I can have you withering beneath me begging me for more.” His voice dropped low and deep. Pulled away slightly. Looking at your heated face. “Mmm darling, Your face is heating up, is it something I said?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.
“No it’s not. It’s just from the ovens.” You stumbled at your poor attempt at showing him that he was not affecting you. He hummed before bumping his hip against you, walking away. “Oh look at that there I’ve ran out of Carrots. I’ll-I’ll be in the walk-in.” Rushing off into the giant refrigeration unit. He chuckled, shaking his head. With a pleased look on his face.
Letting the huge door close behind you. You rested along one of the tall racks inside the cold room. With a sighed, you were happy that it was only you and him this early. No other employees, they wouldn’t be around for another hour. You closed your eyes. Trying to calm yourself down. Why was he acting like this. You thought, never once hearing the door open. It wasn’t until there was another presence was in front of you. Your eyes popped opens seeing Tom covered chest. You looked up to see a big old smirk plastered along his lips.
“I needed carrots.” He shrugged. As he pulled the box of carrots out, which were directly behind you. Pulling them out they managed to push you against Toms chest. Holding the box with both his hands, which caused you to be trapped, between him and the carrots that pressed you against him. Wicked smirk, and a dark chuckle left his lips before lifting the carrot over your head and walking out.
Later that night. And four black dresses later. You sat in the corner of the restaurant. Waiting for you date to arrive. It had been thirty minutes and still he was a no show. Maybe you could just go back to work or just call it a night, knowing that you would never hear the end of it if you went to the back. You looked at your phone one last time. Not noticing that someone had sat down across from you. When you looked up. Tom sat in front of you. Wearing a blue button dress shirt, black tailored slacks. His hair was styled back not the normal mess you always see. You gaped at the man. You thought he was hot on a normal day. But dear god in hell he was sexier then hell. Your leg that had been crossed over the other fell, you felt his long legs brush against yours under the table.
“Y/n, you look ravishing.” Tom cooed. He had never seen you in a dress. Let alone all dolled up. To him you were beautiful on any given day. But tonight you looked stunning.
“Tom, you know I don’t need to be rescued.” You sighed as you went to slide out of your chair. Only for Tom to grab your hand.
“I know you don’t and I’m sorry I’m late. I was waiting for Fernando to cover for me.” He smiled genuine not his normal cocky smirk. You went to say something but nothing came out. “And before you start the question. Yes, I’m your date, I’ve known for awhile. And in fact it was when you were complaining last week about your friends setting you up, that’s when I figured it out.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” You huffed. Not sure what to think.
“Well for starts you wouldn’t of agreed to this date and to see the look on your face when you found out it was me.” He stated half smiling.
“Ugh, Tom we really shouldn’t. This isn’t funny really. I-I don’t want a one night. That is what I would get with you.” You sighed trying to leave but Tom had yet to let go of your hand.
“I know that darling, and I wouldn’t want just one night with you. Haven’t you realize I haven’t seen anyone in months.” His thumb started to rub circles along your knuckles. You went to say something but he stopped you. “Please at least have dinner with me, you and I both know you haven’t eaten all day. And I’m starving.”
With a sigh you agreed. Knowing he was right. He always made sure you took a break to eat something while working. Tom was surprisingly a gentleman. As the conversation flowed and dinner was done. Time seemed to fly by and soon the restaurant was closing. Tom told you thing you never known about. Tom never once made his normal passes at you. He even walked you to your car. You leaned against it as you were still in the middle of him telling you a rather funny story that had happened when he was playing rugby.
“Your lips are getting really close to mine.” You whispered as you realize he was getting closer to you. His hands were resting on either side of you on the car. He smiled.
“So they are.” He mumbled. “Y/n, I’m not going to lie. I desperately want to take you out for dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me.” You gasped at his words but was soon to be silence by his lips on yours. Your hand found their way to his side grabbing ahold of the soft fabric of his shirt.
“Well, we all ready had dinner. And it seems that we’ve been dancing around this for awhile now. So..” Mumbling, you bit your lip as his eyes opened to look into yours he was a bit shocked at what he was hearing.
TITLE OF STORY: Crossing Knives
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 10
AUTHOR: missviolethunter / missviolethunterwrites
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: AU Tom / Chef Tom
GENRE: Romance, Comedy
FIC SUMMARY: Tom Hiddleston is the brilliant executive chef of Band of Brothers, a London restaurant with a Michelin star. He also has a reputation for being arrogant, cocky and difficult. Hallie Harrison is a former home cook who has just won Masterchef US. Luke Windsor is a restaurateur who is tired of constantly looking for new sous-chefs because Tom keeps making them quit. In a desperate move to save his restaurant, Luke offers Hallie a job as a sous-chef… and maybe also a chance to meet the man of her dreams in the least likely of places: the kitchen of Band of Brothers.
RATING: Explicit
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Links to previous chapters: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9
CHAPTER 10: SECRETS, SURPRISES, SAUVIGNON BLANC
Monday mornings marked the start of the work week at Band of Brothers. Planning menus, receiving deliveries, scheduling any special events… all those things had to be done on a Monday so the rest of the week would be properly organized.
Every day Tom was the first one to arrive. Sometimes a bit hungover, or wearing the same clothes as the night before (there was a shower in Luke’s office, and Tom always kept a change of work clothes in the car). But, no matter what he had been doing during the long weekend, he was always in the kitchen when everybody else got there.
Which is why Birdie and Kumal, the cooks, who were neighbours and usually caught the same tube, were so surprised to find the back door of the restaurant firmly closed. And locked. Birdie searched in her large handbag for her set of keys, that she barely had any occasion to use. She also grabbed her phone, wondering if she should call Luke or if she was worrying about nothing. It was half past eleven, and they didn’t have to start until noon, so it wasn’t really alarming that Chef Tom had decided to oversleep a little.
She was so concentrated, mobile phone in one hand and keys in the other, that she almost didn’t hear Luke’s voice behind her.
“Morning, Birdie! Hey, Kumal!” He turned off the engine and got out of the car, smiling brightly, with a cup of Starbucks in one hand and some donut crumbs on his otherwise immaculate suit. Luke Windsor was definitely a morning person.
“Morning, Mr. Windsor. Is Chef Tom with you?”
“Tom? No, I haven’t seen him since Saturday; I’ve got several lost calls from him, so I thought I’d come early so we could talk.” He glanced at the door, then at the two people in front of him, and finally at the door again. “Is there anything wrong? Why are you out here?”
Birdie sighed. “It’s locked. And empty.”
Luke frowned for a brief moment. “Well, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. He must have been partying until late, I’ll give him a call and tell him to get his arse out of bed.”
They all got in; the cooks headed towards the kitchen and Luke to his office. He tried calling Tom, but the call went straight to voicemail. And again. After four tries, he resorted to messaging.
‘Hey, mate, are you alright?’
‘Tom, I’m sorry I couldn’t come over yesterday, I was at my parents’ in Oxfordshire and I didn’t get home until all hours.’
‘Hiddleston, it’s almost noon. If you’re down with the flu I can go by your place and bring you some chicken soup, but I need you to speak to me.’
No response. He headed to the kitchen, where Hallie, Connor and Alex had also arrived and were starting to prep all kinds of food for the dinner service.
“Good morning, gods and goddesses of the culinary world! How’s the week presenting?”
A chorus of cheerful voices assured him, all at the same time, that everything was perfect (and that chefs can be very, very loud people). Only Hallie didn’t say anything except for a deflated ‘Hi Luke’, and that made him worry.
He decided to try calling Tom again, and right in that moment he heard the main door open and close with a slamming sound. And there was the missing Chef Hiddleston, standing in the hallway, in his chef whites, pale and sulky like the Ghost of Canterville on a bad day (minus the chains. And the castle. And the undead thing, although he did have the ashy complexion).
“Finally! I was starting to worry. Are you alright, mate? I tried calling you…”
“I was driving. Fine. I’m fine.” His voice sounded at least an octave lower than usual, which made it hard for Luke to understand him.
“I know that tone, Hiddleston, and it’s everything but fine. Look, if you’re not feeling well and you need the day off, just…”
“You can’t send me home, Luke”, was the half-growled answer. “This place is as mine as it is yours, so spare me your ‘cool boss’ talk and let me get to work.”
Now Luke was absolutely sure that Tom was either sick or being an asshole on purpose. Or maybe both. He adjusted his glasses on his nose, thinking of the best way to find out the truth.
“Great. Do whatever you want. If at any point in the day you feel like talking to your business partner and oldest friend, and telling him what the bloody hell is wrong with you, I’ll be in my office.”
About twenty minutes later, a quick rap at the door made Luke smile triumphantly.
“It’s always open, Tom! Come in and share that sob story, whatever it is!”
The door opened slowly, but instead of Tom’s closely cropped curls what appeared behind it was a head of blond hair, neatly tucked in a bun under a white chef hat.
“Luke, it’s me. Sorry to interrupt you, but…”
“Hallie! I meant it when I said it’s always open. Please come in. Coffee?”
“Luke, Tom burnt a sauce ten minutes ago and went to the pantry. He… he’s locked himself in and he’s not answering when we knock.”
Luke got up from his desk, looking slightly murderous. “Okay, this has gone too far. I’m going to…”
“Please don’t be angry with him! I think… I think it’s my fault that he’s all moody today, but I can’t get him to talk to me.” She covered her face with her hands.
“Fine, let’s all calm down. I won’t kill him…yet. Now let’s go to the pantry and find out why he’s acting more like an idiot than usual.”
In the kitchen, everybody was trying to keep things normal. The pots were boiling, the pans sizzled, and the cooks… well, the cooks had one eye on the suspiciously closed door that connected the kitchen with the pantry. Nobody said a word, but they all turned to Luke in unison.
The increasingly worried restaurateur knocked on the door several times. “Thomas, this isn’t funny. Nor professional. Get your arse out of there!”
One or two muffled words came from inside.
“I can’t hear you, you sod! This is a fireproof door!”
Nothing. Seeing that Luke’s efforts were in vain, Hallie moved to the front of the group and approached the closed door.
“Tom, it’s Hallie! Please, can we talk?”
Silence for a moment, and then they all could hear the sound of the lock being turned. Slowly.
It still didn’t open, so Hallie grabbed the handle. Luke put a warning hand on her forearm.
“Whatever you do, get him out of there. I don’t want to appear in the Daily Mail as the evil restaurant owner who almost let two of his workers suffocate inside a closed pantry.”
“Suffocate? There’s a ventilation system in there.”
“You clearly don’t read the Mail”, Luke sighed. “Just try and make him see reason, please.”
Hallie opened the door and got inside, closing it behind her without a noise.
“Now you want to see me.”
The Band of Brothers pantry was a spacious and well organized room, with cabinets and shelves to one side and a row of industrial sized freezers to the other. Tom was sitting on the floor, with his back to the wall and a can of beer in his hand, looking so miserable that Hallie almost had to fight back tears.
She thought of the best way to start the conversation; Tom seemed to be in a highly dramatic state, so she decided that maybe he would react if she dialed up the drama.
“Tom, if you want me to resign and leave, just say so and I’ll be out of here in a minute”, she stated in a clear voice.
“What?” He clearly wasn’t expecting that. He left the beer on the floor (unopened, Hallie noticed) and stood up with the help of the wall behind him.
He didn’t seem drunk, just extremely hungover and a more than a little angry. He walked up towards Hallie very slowly, as if he was walking under water.
“Did you have fun with your boyfriend Harrington the other night?”
Hallie went red as a beet. “Tom, I went to…”
“I know where you went. For some reason you decided I wasn’t good enough for you, so you staged your little freak-out and then Craig came to your rescue like a knight in shining armor. Well played.”
Hallie crossed her arms and frowned. “Tom, that wasn’t staged. I had to run home because I was feeling horrible, and then I got a text from Georgiana…”
“I see. So Georgiana was in it too, playing matchmaker for her little brother.”
“It was a birthday party! With at least fifty people in it!”
“I only saw two people in Harrington’s Tesla.”
Hallie took a step back. “Tom, were you following me?”
“Following you? Bollocks!” answered Tom, outraged. “It’s not my fault that in a city with nine million people you have decided to live right on my doorstep, Chef Harrison.”
“Well, it’s hard to see people’s faces from the balcony of your luxury penthouse, Chef Hiddleston, so you were either using a telescope or–”
“I don’t need a telescope to see when someone’s hiding something from me.”
She sighed. “Okay, this is ridiculous. We’re having a conversation in the stupid pantry–”
“An argument”, interrupted Tom.
“Fine, an argument. But this is not the time or the place to do this.”
Tom raked his fingers through his already tousled hair. “Right. We must look like a pair of bloody teenagers. But you didn’t deny you are hiding something from me, so don’t tell me I’m imagining things.”
Hallie closed her eyes for several seconds. When she opened them again, she looked very serious. “Can we call a truce for a few hours and talk after work? Yes, there’s something important I need to tell you… but it can’t be here.”
“Have it your way”, said Tom in a chilly tone. “I’ll take you home after work… but I don’t know what you want me to say, except that I feel like you’re gaslighting me.”
“You don’t have to say anything, just listen. And if you don’t like my explanation, tomorrow I will resign and you won’t have to see me again. Deal?”
“Fine.”
He opened the door for Hallie with an exaggerated flourish, and looked at the bunch of people who had congregated in front of the pantry door.
“What, don’t you all have jobs to do?”
Luke let out a sigh of relief. “I’m going to remove that lock today. No, forget about the lock, I’m having the whole door taken away.” He pointed a recriminating finger at Tom. “No more silly shenanigans in this kitchen, understood?”
Tom answered with a mock of a military salute.
“Splendid. Now, let’s all get back to work and forget the past thirty minutes of our lives. Back to cooking, everybody!”
At the same time Tom relived his personal drama in the Band of Brothers kitchen (and pantry), Harrington Craig was parking his Tesla right across the street.
He was in a bit of a hurry. Not exactly late, but he was anxious to try a couple of new and exotic ingredients he’d had shipped from Thailand the day before. Also, he had stayed at his parents’ brunch for a bit longer than he should.
According to the family chronicles, the Craigs had been doing brunch since before the word was invented. The only thing that had changed over the years was the date: what for centuries had been a Sunday event had been changed to Monday since his two elder sisters got married and started having children. Apparently, having all your weekends planned in advance is not practical when you have several little ones, so brunch was rescheduled and now everyone was happy (except for the aforementioned children, who of course were at school).
Whatever the reason, every Monday, Lord and Lady Craig had the table set for at least thirteen people: her eldest daughter Eleonora, her husband, and the youngest of their three girls (who was two years old, so no school yet); Georgiana, always alone because she pitied his boyfriends too much to make them endure the family event; Minerva and her husband with their two daughters (who were homeschooled, and loved being at the table with the grownups); Arabella, the youngest, who had recently became engaged to a young man and had earned the right to bring him to brunch; and, finally, Harry. Alone since his divorce… and frequently alone during his marriage, because his ex-wife Charlotte had hated his sisters with a passion (often reciprocated), and she always had an excuse to avoid setting foot in the Craigs’ Hampstead house.
On that particular day, brunch had been a bit uncomfortable for him. His sister Georgiana, always eager to embarrass him at family events, had told their mother about Hallie… and the hopeful Lady Craig had spent more than an hour trying to extract information from her son.
“My dear Harrington” (she was the only person who called him by his full name all the time). “If there’s a new young lady in your life, do bring her to tea sometime. I’ll be very glad to meet her.”
“That would be wonderful, dear Mamma, but despite what Georgie may have told you there’s nothing to write home about. I’ve met a girl I like, but unfortunately she only has eyes for Tom.”
“What a pity! Speaking of Thomas, I do wish you two would solve your differences. You were such good friends at school! You know, when you were younger I had the secret hope that he would end up marrying one of your sisters.”
Harry couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at this affirmation, and all the other people at the table reacted in a variety of ways: his sisters Nora and Belle managed to muffle a burst of laughter, while Georgiana, less used to hiding her impulses, laughed heartily. Only one of the sisters, Minnie, seemed very concentrated on her food, blushing furiously. She’d had a brief thing with Tom during their time in Oxford, and her sisters had teased her mercilessly for years about ‘the Hiddleston affair.’
As for the men who were also attending brunch, not one of them noticed a thing. Harry’s father was too busy enjoying his eggs Florentine; and all three of his daughter’s significant others were completely oblivious to the crossing of glances between the women and their amused mother.
“Anyway”, continued Lady Mountjoy once the giggling had stopped. “I haven’t lost hope of having a grandson yet. And apparently it has to come from you, because your sisters are exclusively occupied in having girls. Who I love very dearly, of course”, she added with a wink and a smile directed towards the three little girls sitting at the table. “But who’s going to inherit your father’s collection of toy soldiers?”
This time the laughter was general, husbands and father included. It was a running joke in the family, their particular genetic lottery. The elder sister, Nora, had three lovely girls; the second, Minnie, had two and was expecting twins… she had just found out that both of them were also girls. The youngest, Belle, wasn’t married yet, but she always joked that she was going to start buying pink furniture for her future home. And Lord Mountjoy’s collection of toy soldiers, enjoyed for the last time by Harry as a kid, had been collecting dust in the attic for more than twenty-five years.
Harry’s recollection of the family meal was suddenly interrupted by the sound of steps in front of him. He forced his attention back to reality, just in time to avoid a collision with a young Black woman carrying the largest Starbucks cup he had ever seen.
“Oy! Careful, Mister Daydreaming!” she said, holding the cup as far as she could from her leather portfolio and her elegant black and white suit. She never lost her smile, however, and Harry wondered how a person who was on her way to work, and obviously in a hurry, could be in such good spirits.
“I am awfully sorry… God, I hope nothing has spilled.” He surveyed the woman’s slender figure looking for a nonexistent stain, and then something clicked in his mind. “Wait a minute… don’t I know you? You work with Luke Windsor, right?”
“Exactly, I’m his assistant. Shirley Berry.” She managed to hold both portfolio and coffee in her left hand, and extended the right towards Harry’s offered handshake.
“Harry Craig. I’ve heard Luke talk wonders about you several times.”
“Well, he manages the restaurant, and I manage his finances, his schedule, and the rest of his professional life. Everything except Tom, of course. No one in the world can manage that man… but according to the rumours you already know that.”
Harry smirked. “You know, all this time I’ve been wondering how Band of Brothers is doing so well despite Tom not being able to keep his staff stable… maybe I should have looked into the business side of it. If you ever feel tempted to switch your allegiance, I’ll be right here with open arms”, he added with a shy smile.
“Awww, that may be the nicest thing anyone has said to me in weeks. To be completely honest I have no intention to change jobs… but if you weren’t my boss’s best friend’s mortal enemy, I’d invite you to coffee.”
“Even if you are my mortal enemy’s best friend’s assistant, I will take you up on that invitation. I see you like Starbucks, but you may want to try a little café two streets away from here; they serve the best blends in London.”
Shirley’s smile widened. “That sounds great. And I promise Tom hasn’t paid me to poison your Cappuccino or anything.”
“Actually, I take it Ristretto… just so you know where to put the poison”, he answered with a wink.
“Duly noted.” She scribbled her personal mobile on a card and handed it to Harry, and they parted ways, hurrying towards their respective restaurants.
Harry put the business card in his pocket, and a second later he changed his mind and stored it in his wallet. Growing up in a house full of sisters had made him notoriously bad at flirting for many years, so he liked it when women took the initiative in a frank, carefree way, like Shirley had done. Even if it was just for coffee, and not a real date.
The workday at Band of Brothers ended almost at midnight. Most Londoners, except for the ones who partied really hard, were already asleep or getting ready for bed, so the light traffic allowed Tom’s Aston Martin to make the trip from Chelsea to Goswell Road in twenty minutes, instead of the usual thirty.
That meant twenty long minutes of sulky silence on Tom’s part. After the bumpy start of the day he had been more cooperative, but for most of the day he’d kept a stubborn silence. Hallie tried to lighten the mood making a couple of casual comments at the start of the drive, but noticing the lack of response she chose to concentrate on her phone. She texted her mother to let her know she was bringing Tom home, but Lorraine hadn’t answered her yet.
Finally, when they were only a couple of minutes away from the City, Tom broke his silence.
“Texting your boyfriend?”
Hallie huffed. “I’m glad you’re speaking to me again. And no, as far as I know I don’t have a boyfriend, thanks for asking.”
“Then what do you call the Honorable Harrington Craig? Just a fuckbuddy? A friend with benefits?” he asked between gritted teeth. “I bet he’s already planning to make you the second Mrs. Craig. He can be very quick when it comes to marrying other people's–”
“Will you stop with that, Tom? We’re almost… turn right, please, we’re almost there. You can park around that corner.”
Tom decided to go back to sulking in silence during the short walk through the front door, up the stairs, and finally through the door of Hallie’s flat on the second floor.
“Hallie? Is that you, cupcake?”
“Yes, Mom, I’m home.”
A cheerful looking woman got up from the couch and turned off the television. Tom thought she looked exactly like an older version of Hallie, only a bit shorter. And with glasses.
“Ah, you must be Tom! Nice to meet you, I’m Lorraine Harrison” she said, offering him a firm handshake. “Sorry I didn’t drop by the restaurant to meet you sooner, but I was a little busy with… with a thing that I’m sure Hallie will tell you in a moment.”
“That’s why I asked him here, Mom. To talk.”
Lorraine exchanged a knowing glance with her daughter, a glance that left Tom even more puzzled than before.
“Well, in that case I’m going to the kitchen to have a cuppa. The living room is all yours.”
Hallie led a very suspicious Tom to the living room and asked him to sit down. He did, looking around him as if he was expecting some kind of nasty surprise to jump at his face in any moment.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Am I going to need one?”
“Probably.”
He made an affirmative sign, and Hallie walked to the dining room table, where someone –probably Lorraine and her motherly powers of precognition– had set a bottle of chilled Sauvignon Blanc and two glasses. She offered one to Tom, and remained standing in front of him.
“Look, I’m not usually a person who shares all her secrets, but…” she paused. “What I mean is that there’s something I should have told you when we met, but it was…”
Another pause. Despite Tom’s resentment, it was actually painful for him to see Hallie struggle like that. He took a sip of his wine; very nice, not expensive but good vintage, whispered his restaurant-trained mind.
“Christ, Hallie, you look like you’re going to confess a crime”, he blurted. “I don’t mind hiring felons, you know. One of our line cooks stole a car when he was sixteen, and that didn’t keep me from giving him a job.”
“No, it’s not that.” Hallie blushed and started pacing up and down the room. “It’s just… a long story.”
“I have all the time in the world. Or at least until I have to open the restaurant tomorrow.”
She took a deep breath and almost emptied her glass of wine. “Okay. As you know, my family moved from here to California when I was a toddler. My Dad owned a small agricultural supplies company, that now belongs to my older brother. Eight years ago, I was starting my second year at UCLA, when–”
“Mommy, can you come say goodnight to Stuart?”
There was a boy standing at the door; a sleepy little boy with blond straw-like hair, wearing a Lighting McQueen pyjamas, and holding a Minion plush almost as big as him. With the corner of his eye, Tom looked at Hallie. She was paralyzed, all the blood having escaped from her face, so he tried to react in the less awkward way he could think of.
“Hello, mate! I’m Tom.” He extended a hand towards the kid, who shook it with enthusiasm.
“Hi Tom, I’m Max. Hey, my best friend at school also calls me mate! Is it an England thing?”
“You’re absolutely right, it’s an England thing”, Tom said with a very serious face. “It’s what we call our best friends here.”
“Are you Mom’s chef boss? She says you make the best food in the world!”
Hallie finally came out of her stupor with a shy laugh. She crouched beside the boy and hugged him.
“Oh, Max… What are you doing up, pumpkin?”
“I heard the door and I wanted to say goodnight. Is it very late?”
“Very very late. All the other children in London are in bed, you’re the only one awake. Aren’t you sleepy?”
“Yes…” as if choreographed, a giant yawn followed the word. “Yes, I think I’m going back to bed now. Goodnight, Chef Tom.”
“Goodnight, buddy.”
Hallie picked up the dozing child with one arm and Stuart the minion with the other. “I’ll be right back”, she said before disappearing into one of the doors.
During the following moments Tom sat motionless, in complete silence, listening to the distant sound of two voices wishing sweet dreams to each other. When Hallie reappeared he pretended to concentrate in his glass of Sauvignon Blanc, still full.
She sat down on the couch beside him, but not too close.
“Well, I guess the explanation I was giving you is kind of moot now. As you may have guessed, Max is my son… And he’s the reason why I’ve been hiding things and acting strangely. Part of the reason, at least.”
A light went up in Tom’s mind. “Hallie, are you trying to tell me that you’re married?”
“Of course not! I would never have gone out to dinner with you if I was married.”
“Trouble with your ex?”
“I don’t have an ex”, she said in a low, breathy voice. “I’ve never been married, Tom.”
Tom closed his eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. When he opened his eyes again, the black cloud that loomed over him had started to dissipate.
“So… this was your terrible, horrible secret? Many single people have children. And I’m sure Max a handful, but… I like kids. You didn’t have to hide that from me.”
“I was scared.” Hallie reached for the bottle of wine, but Tom was faster; he grabbed it first and poured her another glass. “Thanks.”
“Scared of me finding out about Max? I already told you, there’s no reason–”
She placed her hand over Tom’s for a moment and then drew it back, as if his skin had burned her.
“Tom, this isn’t easy for me. I really need you to listen without saying anything for a couple of minutes, because I’m not used to talking about… personal things. Not with anyone outside my family or my closest friends, who are all girls.”
“I’m listening”, he said in the most reassuring tone he could manage.
Hallie repositioned herself on the sofa a couple of times, looking alternatively at Tom and at the wall in front of her.
“Max’s father… Dave… was my first serious boyfriend. We started dating on the last year of High School, and we weren’t sure what to do with the relationship after that… but then we both ended up in UCLA, so things went on.” She seemed to relax a little, and took off her shoes. “College was a lot of fun at first. I had a lot of friends, a popular boyfriend, I was in a sorority… I was going to get my BA in World Arts and Culture, and I loved it. I guess I wasn’t the most brilliant student, but I did well enough in class. And then, just at the start of my sophomore year… I found out I was pregnant.”
“Did you have a fight? Did he leave you?” Tom blurted without thinking. “Sorry, I just… sorry. No more interruptions.”
“No, he didn’t leave me”, she continued in a soft, sad voice. “He said he would do the right thing… his parents were very religious. Episcopalian. And as soon as they knew what happened they started planning our wedding. Quickly, before it started to show, because… you know. The scandal.”
She left the empty glass of wine aside, and held her knees to her chest.
“My parents told us to wait, to be sure of our decision, to see what happened with the way Dave and I felt about everything after the baby had been born. Mom was very insistent about that, she said we were too young and life was too complicated to throw our education aside and start playing house. But Dave’s parents wouldn’t even hear about that, and we were in love… or, at least, the kind of love you’re in when you’re nineteen and you haven’t experienced real life before. Dave started to work with his father at a real estate company; he came to see me every morning before going to work. My future mother-in-law let me borrow her wedding dress. She arranged all of it: the church, the flowers, the music… I don’t remember much of the preparations, everybody told me I had to rest and take care of the baby so I wasn’t allowed to help much.”
Hallie’s gaze was fixed on the wall now, and her voice was almost inaudible.
Tom opened his mouth to speak again and then he remembered in the nick of time that he wasn’t supposed to; he stopped fidgeting with his wine glass and moved his hand towards Hallie, just up to the point where only one of his fingers was touching one of hers. She looked at him again with a sad smile.
“Two weeks before the wedding I had my bachelorette party. Nothing crazy, not in my state, just me and a few friends. My Mom had the idea of making it British themed, and we had this afternoon party with tea and crumpets, and little Union Flags on the tables, all very Victorian; all my friends loved it.” She ran a hand through her hair, undoing several strands of her already messy ponytail. “Dave and his friends went out, of course. To a… a strip club. Everybody knew they were going there, after all it was his bachelor party. They spent the night dancing with the girls there… and drinking.”
A light went off in Tom’s head. He saw the painful truth coming from afar, digging its way out of Hallie’s memories before showing its ugly face in the present.
“They waited until I woke up the next day, because they didn’t want me to get upset at five in the morning. I remember my parents coming to my room… it’s strange, the things one remembers. My Mom had a cup of tea in her hands, a porcelain cup with pink flowers painted on it. And Dad hadn’t shaved. He was such a proper gentleman, I knew something was wrong the moment I saw he hadn’t shaved. But I don’t remember which one of them said that there had been an accident, that Dave wasn’t coming to see me that morning… that Dave was dead.”
Tom had heard enough. He crossed the small distance between him and Hallie and held her hand, delicately. He looked at her face expecting tears, but her eyes were dry.
“I’m sure you loved him very much.”
“I was completely infatuated with him, and losing him was the worst thing that had happened in my life. Suddenly I was a college drop-out, alone, terrified of giving birth, afraid of raising a baby without a father… I think I managed to survive that year thanks to my parents. I don’t know what I’d have done without them.” She looked at Tom again, at his clear blue eyes and his worried gaze. “I’ve been awkward around men since then. We should have had this conversation before our date, Tom, and I’m so sorry I freaked out. I was so scared!”
“Of me finding out about Max?”
“Not only that. I already told you Max’s father was my first boyfriend. Then after him I had a small baby and of course I couldn’t go around dating. When Max was four my Dad got sick… when he died, I had to lend a hand in the family business and I didn’t have a lot of time for anything. And then I had the silly idea of going on Masterchef, and with all the fuss of the contest, the win, the promotion, the cookbook…”
“Yes?”
“Tom, what I’m trying to tell you is that you’re the first man I’ve dated in eight years. Which, counting Max’s father, makes you the second guy I’ve dated in my whole life.”
Tom froze for a moment, and then hid his face in his hands. “Oh, bollocks. I scared you.”
“Just a little.”
“I’m a sodding brute.”
“No! You were just… Enthusiastic, I guess. And I was too confused to tell you that I needed to go a little slower.”
He nodded in silence and wrapped his hand around hers. They sat like that for a moment, until a sudden noise coming from the kitchen made them jump.
“Do you think your mother’s listening?”
“Of course she’s listening! She’s been in there for fifteen minutes. How long does it take to make a cup of tea?” Hallie laughed. “Mom, please come out and stop eavesdropping!”
Lorraine came out of the kitchen, holding a nearly empty cup of tea and a sugar biscuit. “Well, did you fix it?” she asked, staring intently at Tom and Hallie.
“Yes, ma'am. All fixed.”
“Good. I was getting bored to death in there, but I didn’t want to interrupt your little conversation. And now that I’m sure there won’t be another World War in my living room, this old lady needs to go to bed.” She finished the biscuit, left the cup on the table and hugged her daughter. “Sleep well, cupcake. Goodnight, Chef Hiddleston.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Harrison. Pleased to meet you.”
After Lorraine left they both stood in the middle of the living room, too tired to say anything, until Tom reacted.
“I don’t mean to sound rude, but you’re going to fall asleep standing up.”
Hallie offered him a tired smile. “Well, it has been a tough day. For both of us.”
Tom threw his arms around her, enclosing her in a tight embrace. “As much as I like doing this, I really need to go and let you sleep. Or tomorrow we’ll fall asleep in the kitchen.”
“And Luke will scream at us.”
“Luke was very close to having an aneurysm this morning…” Tom observed. “I think I owe him an apology. And another one to you, for behaving like an arse all day. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s fine, Tom. I’m sorry too, for not being honest with you earlier. I promise, no more hiding things.”
“And I promise to take things slow. I’m also out of practice doing that, so we can find our ideal speed together”, he said with a wink.
“I like the sound of that”, Hallie answered. “I guess for tonight we can start with something small. Like… one kiss?”
“Only one, Chef Harrison? It will have to be one hell of a kiss.”
“That’s up to you, Chef Hiddleston. Remember that I’m a silly sorority girl with only one boyfriend on my record who knows absolutely nothing about these things.”
Tom entwined one of his hands in Hallie’s hair, slowly stroking her cheek with his thumb. She smelled like red wine and powdered sugar.
“You keep getting it wrong, Chef Harrison. Wrong in two counts.” His breath ghosted on her cheek, and she shivered. “Number one, you’re not a silly girl. I don’t think you’ve ever been a silly girl.”
He pulled her even closer to him and brushed his lips with hers, slowly, giving her space to respond. And she did, leaning eagerly into him and into the caress of his mouth.
“And… and number two?” she said, feebly, once the kiss was over.
“Well… I think your count of boyfriends has gone up. By one.”
Crossing Knives, Chapter 9: Cake, canoodling, cocktails and confusion
TITLE OF STORY: Crossing Knives
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 8
AUTHOR: missviolethunter / missviolethunterwrites
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: AU Tom / Chef Tom
GENRE: Romance, Comedy
FIC SUMMARY: Tom Hiddleston is the brilliant executive chef of Band of Brothers, a London restaurant with a Michelin star. He also has a reputation for being arrogant, cocky and difficult. Hallie Harrison is a former home cook who has just won Masterchef US. Luke Windsor is a restaurateur who is tired of constantly looking for new sous-chefs because Tom keeps making them quit. In a desperate move to save his restaurant, Luke offers Hallie a job as a sous-chef… and maybe also a chance to meet the man of her dreams in the least likely of places: the kitchen of Band of Brothers.
RATING: Explicit
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Links to previous chapters: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8
Chapter 9: Cake, canoodling, cocktails and confusion
Every Sunday, exactly at 9pm, a traffic control helicopter flew over the City of London, checking that the peace of the night wasn’t disrupted by a sudden accident or –almost worse– an unexpected traffic jam.
Every Sunday, at 9:03 pm, it flew over the Barbican towers. Three perfectly grey, elegant, monolithic statues raising towards the sky. Of course, the people on board the helicopter didn’t stop to wax poetic about the brutalist buildings. Sometimes one of them looked down and noticed if the lights on the penthouses were lit or not; but, like good Londoners, they didn’t care much about other people’s lives, not even if those other people were rich sods who lived in super expensive luxury flats on top of an architectural wonder.
If they had bothered to look towards Shakespeare Tower (and carry a pair of binoculars) on that particular Sunday, they would have seen a man standing on the balcony of the 42nd floor. A tall blond man, holding a bottle of beer and looking supremely depressed.
Tom emptied the rest of the bottle in one long swig, while his confused brain tried to make some sense of what had happened after dinner. It all started so well, he thought. Second date with Hallie, a home cooked dinner, some jazz music… The modus operandi had been the same he’d used in countless other dates, only this time he was really interested in what his date had to say. At least until she had bolted out, of course. He stood up and staggered towards the sofa, replaying the dinner over and over in his head and wondering what the hell he’d done to make a carefully planned night go to shit.
In fact, the dinner part had been incredible. He made sure to cook his best for the occasion, and Chef Hiddleston’s best was always a culinary experience to remember. The oysters in the appetizer were poached to perfection in his favorite Riesling wine; the second course, a rack of lamb many restaurants would be proud to display on their menus, accompanied by a rainbow of the tiniest vegetables he could find. As for dessert, Hallie had brought a glorious raspberry and white chocolate cake decorated with many infinitesimal pieces of gold leaf. His mouth watered when he saw it; well, in fact his mouth had started watering just before, when he had opened the door and seen his guest arrive in a spectacular blue dress.
No, he was sure nothing wrong had happened during dinner… so it must had been after coffee, when he had taken Hallie to the balcony to admire the view.
“I think you can see my flat from here”, Hallie said, squinting in the direction of the Golden Lane Estate. “There! On the corner of that building, the one with the lights up. It’s so tiny from here!”
Tom nodded and got a bit closer to her, trying to identify the dot of light many floors below.
“Your mother must be up waiting for you.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I told her not to wait up in case I…” she stopped herself and blushed a bright shade of pink. “I mean, I’m a big girl, it’s not like she’s keeping tabs on me or anything.”
Tom bit his lip in silence, smiling. He had been looking for a subtle way to invite Hallie to spend the night, and now he knew she was at least considering it.
“Would you like to go back inside? It’s starting to get chilly.”
She nodded. The truth was, early October in London could indeed be quite cold, especially at four hundred feet above ground. She sat on the sofa and took a sip of her wine while Tom managed the music. Her personal tastes turned more towards Broadway than jazz, but nevertheless she closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the song transport her for a moment.
“Earth to Hallie.”
“Oh God, sorry! I always close my eyes when I’m enjoying good music, or good food. One of those silly things one does sometimes.”
Tom sat beside her on the sofa. “It’s alright. But right now I think I prefer to enjoy the moment with my eyes open. You look stunning tonight, Hallie.”
“But it’s just me”, she answered with a smile. “The same woman that looks a mess every day after eight hours in the kitchen.”
“If it wasn’t for the health and safety regulations, I’d ask you to wear that dress to work every day. You’d be the most attractive chef in any London kitchen.”
“What, this old thing? It’s really nothing special.”
Tom slid his hand over hers and looked Hallie right in the eye.
“Then maybe it’s the person inside of the dress who’s special.”
Not having a lot of dating experience, Hallie didn’t know what to say next, so she let her instinct take charge. And her instinct, that dormant and neglected part of herself, told her to do what every young woman sitting next to a very attractive man would do in her situation: she kissed him.
Forgetting her initial shyness, Hallie clasped her hands around Tom’s shoulders and allowed him to take command of the kiss. She reveled in the sensation, in the intensity of his mouth closing over hers, in the skilled way one of his hands slid over her neck and the other inched towards her thigh…
“Hallie.”
“Hmmm?”
“You’re doing it again, love… look at me, please.”
She opened her eyes. Tom was close, so close it was almost overwhelming, but she made a mental effort and told herself to keep her eyes on him no matter what.
“Sorry. I told you, when I’m feeling good I just don’t need to see.”
“Oh, but I do”, answered Tom, caressing her blond hair. “I need you to look at me, Hallie, because I fell for those eyes the moment you stepped into my kitchen. Don’t close them, stay with me.”
His lips began to inch their way down Hallie’s neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Slow but steady, with fleeting touches along her skin that made her moan and sigh aloud more than once. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the bedroom door in the distance, and she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like after so long. To be in bed with someone again, to let him explore her body, let him see her naked…
Tom could feel the exact moment when the girl froze in his arms. She stared at some unspecific point in space, and her lower lip quivered as if she was about to burst into tears.
“Hallie, darling, are you alright?”
No answer, but one of her hands flew to grab hem of her dress and move Tom’s hand away from her leg.
“Hallie, please, what’s wrong?” he tried again.
“I can’t do this.”
Tom frowned and moved away a couple of inches. “Fine. We don’t have to do anything, but I need you to tell me if I’ve done something wrong.”
“No! No, please, it’s been wonderful, it’s just… I can’t let you see me… I mean…I just can’t!”
She shot up from the sofa and grabbed her purse and coat from the chair she’d left them on. “Tom, please, I’m so sorry, I need to go home right now. This was all a mistake.”
Alarmed, Tom searched in his mind at top speed, looking for the precise words to keep the bewildered woman from running away. “Hallie, if you think this is going too fast, we can talk about it. We’ll wait until you’re ready, but please don’t leave like this.”
She stopped in her tracks for a second to look back at him, her breathing agitated and the hand that held her purse visibly shaking. “Oh, Tom, you shouldn’t have asked me out. I’m a mess, I will bring you nothing but bad luck, and…”
Tom approached the anxious girl slowly, stopping at a distance to avoid scaring her.
“Bad luck? Hallie, you’ve been the best thing that’s happened to me in months. Just ask Luke!” He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to make sense of the situation. “Listen, why don’t you go home and rest? I’ll wait for your call tomorrow, or we can talk on Tuesday when we go back to work. I’ll walk you to your place if you want–”
“No, please, there’s no need. It’s two minutes away.” She slung her coat over her arm, without pausing to put it on. “I have to get out of here, Tom… I’m sorry. I will… I mean, we’ll talk at work.”
And, just like that, she left.
Tom barely had time to walk her to the door and hold it open for her. He heard the sound of heels down the corridor, slowly at first and then picking up a running pace halfway to the lift. When he realized he was staring at the closed door of his flat like an idiot he returned to the living room balcony and looked down, waiting to see her small figure in the distance emerge from the tower and run towards Goswell Road, into the Golden Lane Estate… and away from him.
Confused, frustrated, and frankly angry at the Universe that would put such a woman in his life only to yank her away from him in the worst possible moment, Tom grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, took his shoes off and sat on the cold concrete of the terrace hoping that the cold air of the night would clear his mind.
Women were the bloody devil, and damned be the poor sod who tried to understand them.
Meanwhile, at Hallie’s flat, Lorraine had just put her grandson to sleep and turned on the telly. She had missed British TV a lot during her years in California, especially Coronation Street.
When she heard a key turning in the lock she looked at her watch, surprised.
“Hallie? Is that you, sweet pea?”
“Yes.”
The unusually short and deflated answer was a red flag, and she followed her daughter’s steps towards the bedroom, where Hallie had let herself fall face down on the bed, not even bothering with taking off her pumps.
“My powers of deduction tell me that your date wasn’t exactly as you expected”, she started in a sympathetic tone. “I’ll make you a cuppa and we can talk about it if you want.”
Hallie turned around to face her mother. “I don’t want tea. I… Oh, Mom, I feel like a complete idiot!”
Lorraine frowned. “Did he behave like a pig? Because if he did I can go over there and kick his arse, you know. He may be a chef and everything but I was captain of my lacrosse team for three years when I was in college.”
The joke failed to get a smile out of Hallie. She sat up on the bed and hid her face behind her hands.
“He was perfectly lovely all the time. No, Mom, I was the one who ruined it by panicking and running away.”
“Hmmm. Maybe things were going too fast? It’s not something mothers usually tell their daughters, but… sweetheart, you can’t go from zero to one hundred in two dates, especially when you’ve been living the life of a cloistered nun for years.”
Another attempt at humor, another nonplussed look from Hallie, and Lorraine decided to stop trying with the jokes.
“I wanted it to go fast this time”, said Hallie in a whisper. “At least until I realized that if I spent the night with Tom he… he would see my c-section scar and he would start asking questions.”
Lorraine’s face turned dead serious.”You haven’t told him about Max.”
“I didn’t know how to tell him. Or what he would think of me if I–”
“Stop”, interrupted her mother. “Now I’m ordering you to come to the kitchen, drink some tea and have a piece chocolate or two. I won’t allow my daughter to fall into a mental loop of self-deprecation.”
She motioned for Hallie to follow her into the kitchen.
“I can’t help thinking it’s my fault”, she said with a sigh. “I should have encouraged you to start dating much sooner.”
She adjusted her glasses over her nose and, seeing that Hallie was sulking in silence, continued:
“Baby girl, you shouldn’t be ashamed of what your body looks like. I have a scar myself… they had to cut me up twice, one for your brother and the other for you. You were incredibly cute babies, but God knows both of you had big heads.”
Third time is the charm, and Hallie finally laughed.
“I never lost the weight I gained when I had Max, either.”
“Bollocks. A few pounds won’t scare a good man; Tom asked you out knowing perfectly what you look like, right?”
Hallie nodded.
“You’re a beautiful girl, Hallie. A girl who’s had her life on pause for a few years… but you’re only twenty-seven! Go out, date men, have fun! You deserve all that, and I’m here to help you with Max as long as you need me.”
Hallie opened her mouth to answer, but several loud chimes coming from her phone at an alarming pace interrupted her. She read the messages out loud.
“It’s Harrington Craig… oh, and more messages from his sister Georgiana. Both of them reminding me that his birthday party has just began and that I’m invited if I feel like dropping by.”
“Maybe you should go and mingle a little bit. It’s barely nine and you need some cheering up. Where does this Harrington live, again?”
“Saint Katharine’s Docks.”
Lorraine let out a long whistle. “Wow, posh! You should go even if it’s just to see what his place looks like. You can make some new friends, maybe meet a man or two…”
“Mom, I’m with Tom! That is, if he still wants me back after today.”
“And that’s what I was talking about”, retorted her mother. “Two dates and you’re already building a wall around yourself. You must get it from your father’s side of the family… anyway, I think it will be good for you to have a little harmless fun. Tomorrow you can call Tom and explain everything, I’m sure he’ll understand. Now get your things, I’ll call you a cab.”
Hallie started looking for her coat, forgetting that she had left it on her bed. “Mom, are you sure you don’t want me to stay? We can watch a few episodes of Blackadder together, like we did last Sunday.”
“Absolutely not! I have to catch up on Corrie, I’m three episodes behind. Remember, don’t take a minicab after the party, I’ve never trusted those. Or an Uber, I’ve been reading some shitty things about them.”
“Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll make sure to take a black cab”, said Hallie, making her way to the door.
“And take a picture or two of the flat, I’ve always wanted to see how the rich pillocks in Saint Katharine’s Docks live!”
“Mom!”
“Joking, sweetheart. Now, off you trot!”
When Hallie arrived, the party was in full swing.
Although maybe swing wouldn’t be the right word to describe it. If a musical metaphor was absolutely necessary, it would be more like a session of cool, classic jazz.
Harrington had opened the door with a surprised smile and holding a Martini glass. Apparently the host was in charge of cocktails, and he enjoyed putting his little personal touches in them: an unusual mix of berries in a gin and tonic, or a surprising touch of chocolate in a mint mojito.
“Hallie! I didn’t think you would make it, thank you so much for coming”, he said, taking her coat and signaling around the room. “Welcome to what my sister Georgie calls my bachelor pad. I have to warn you that I haven’t done a lot of entertaining here, so my party skills are a bit rusty.”
Everything in the flat looked modern and sophisticated. The tall windows that looked over the river, the soft grays and beiges of the curtains and furniture… even the guests, wearing so much black that Hallie wondered for a second if it was a beatnik party and if she should have come wearing a costume.
She’d barely had time to tell Harry how lovely his flat looked, when the tall figure of Georgiana emerged from the kitchen. She had changed the tweed trousers for a deceitfully simple (and probably very expensive) charcoal dress with no jewelry, and there was an entourage of young men around her, ready to anticipate her every need.
“Oh, look who’s here! Hallie, darling, it’s so wonderful of you to come! You look absolutely adorable. Come, let me introduce you to everyone.”
After a quick round of introductions it became clear to Hallie that everyone, like Georgiana called them, were most definitely the cream of the London crop. There were a couple of City bankers, several young (and probably rich) entrepreneurs, a famous sculptor who followed Georgie like a lapdog, and even a woman who had won a BAFTA.
These were the kind of people who never talked about ordinary, mundane things. From what Hallie could hear, most of the conversations around her versed about art, travel, literature, fashion, and all the latest fads on every field. Nobody discussed politics, of course; that would have been an inexcusable faux pas. And nobody ever talked about money either, as if the idea of exchanging vulgar currency for immortal art was an abomination.
Fortunately for Hallie, among the latest fads in London (and probably in the whole world) there was one she dominated quite well, and that was food. The explosion of cooking shows and celebrity chefs had transformed every elegant person into a gourmet, and as soon as Georgiana had introduced her to a few of her friends, they were all fighting for a minute of conversation with her.
Of course, some of the topics deviated a little bit from the purely culinary.
“Tell me, is Gordon Ramsay as dreamy in real life as he looks on television?” asked a woman with platinum hair, called Brenda, who had just published two bestsellers in a row . “I’m asking just for research purposes, of course. My next novel will be about a chef, and I need someone to base my characters on. Georgie suggested that I use Harry as my inspiration, but my protagonists need to have a mean streak, and poor Harrington is too nice for his own good.”
“He’s a wonderful person. And a great chef, have you tried his–”
“I’ve just had a brilliant idea!” Interrupted the other woman. “You have to take me to your restaurant one day. I need to immerse myself in the ambience of a real kitchen, that will give so much truth to my story! I promise I won’t bother you, I’ll be the proverbial fly on the wall. Who knows, maybe Chef Hiddleston will be a good model for my villain, don’t you think?”
Hallie took a deep breath, not knowing exactly what to answer. She hadn’t predicted that someone would mention Tom, and when the other woman pronounced his name she felt a wave of anxiety rush through her mind. Only one person in the room noticed: Georgiana, whose eagle eyes surveyed anything that could disrupt the peace of her well organized party. She rushed beside Hallie in a second, thrusting herself into the conversation before Hallie’s embarrassment could be noticed by anybody else.
“Now, Brenda, how can you be so insensitive? Hallie’s here to relax from work, not to talk about it. Hallie, darling, come with me to the kitchen; I’ve just had a disagreement with Harry about the right amount of capers he should put on the smoked trout canapés, and I need the opinion of a real expert.”
The kitchen was occupied by a couple of attractive men, laughing and flirting with each other, but Georgiana shooed them out with a piercing gaze and the eloquent rising of an eyebrow.
“Now, sit here and have a little rest. I like Brenda, but her conversation is too overwhelming… she treats everybody as if we were characters in her books.” Observing that Hallie still looked distressed, she pushed the plate of canapés towards her friend. “Hallie, dear, are you having trouble at work? If you need a change of scenery, I’ll order Harry to hire you first thing tomorrow.”
Hallie looked at her, surprised to see that her friend was absolutely serious.
“No, I’m fine. I mean, work is fine… it’s really the job of my dreams.”
“Then, if you don’t mind my asking, why did you look so worried when Brenda mentioned Band of Brothers…? Oh, wait. Unless it’s not the restaurant… You were fine until she mentioned Tom.”
Hallie picked up a canapé and looked at it with an air of melancholy.
“I was hoping to not think about him for a couple of hours. As I said, work is fine, but other things related to work have become… complicated.”
Georgiana sighed. “Oh, Tommy. I’m not even going to ask what he’s done this time. I feel it’s my fault in part, because I was the one who introduced him to that wretched woman who ruined him and left him unable to have a normal relationship again. She walked all over him, and moved on to do the same with my brother… and I’m ranting again, sorry. You don’t even know who Charlotte is, right?”
“I’ve heard of her, but we’ve never met”, answered Hallie.
Georgiana fiddled with her phone and showed Hallie a picture of a beautiful woman, smiling on the red carpet of some fashion show.
“That piece of work in the super tight dress is supermodel Charlotte Rhodes, my ex-sister in law… and, before that, Tom’s fiancée. She left Tom for my brother, married Harry, gave him hell for about a year, and then divorced him when she realized she could do better than the simple son of a baronet who had no interest in yachts, private jets or parties at Monte Carlo. Of course, I don’t know all the details of her life” she said, with an air of sufficiency that indicated that she did know all the details and a few more, “but I hear she’s going after Viscount Dalby now, the heir of the Earl of Rochdale. I know Teddy Dalby from Uni, he’s a good man but not particularly brilliant. I hope he’s got a good team of solicitors, he’s going to need them if he ends up marrying her.”
Hallie stared at the beautiful woman on the screen, who happened to be quite the opposite of her: tall, thin, tanned, and with an air of confidence that she supposed was normal in a supermodel. That woman had the power of making everybody else feel ugly.
“So, she left Tom because…?”
“Because he wasn’t getting rich fast enough. I mean, he’s far from destitute, but chefs don’t become rich and famous easily, not unless they have a television show, and Tommy never liked that kind of fame.” She put the phone aside, facing down, as if she wanted to keep her ex-sister in law as far away as possible. “Of course we didn’t know that when she married my brother; I honestly thought she’d had a change of heart and fallen in love with Harry, and that’s not a crime… she didn’t just fool him, she fooled the whole family.”
“Even you?”
“Yes, even me.” Georgiana rested her face on one of her thin, aristocratic hands. “I wish I could tell you that I mistrusted her from the start, or that my infallible instinct made me realize what a bitch she was. But no, alas. I was every bit as blind as the others; especially Harry. Then the drama about the title exploded, and he saw Charlotte’s true colors, but it was too late for anything but an awfully expensive divorce. We avoided a scandal, but poor Harry was completely heartbroken.”
Hallie took a bite of her canapé. Every one of Georgiana’s answers seemed to leave her with more questions about Tom, Harry and the woman who had gotten between them.
“I’m not sure I understand… about the title drama.”
“Ah, yes. Sorry for being so cryptic, of course you don’t know about that, not being British. And that’s hardly your fault, anyway.” Georgiana picked two mojitos from the kitchen counter and offered one to her friend. “You’ll think I’ve gone crazy when I tell you this, but it’s all the House of Lords’ fault.”
Hallie opened her mouth, closed it again, and sipped her mojito in silence.
“See? You think I’m halfway to the madhouse, but I promise it all makes sense”, said Georgiana. “It started two years ago, when a group of Lords agreed that it was a complete shame that men always took precedence over women when it came to inheriting a title. Of course, many people had been thinking that for years, but those Lords took it to Parliament. There were some debates, some opposition by a couple of conservative MPs, but in the end the New Peerages Act was passed and it received royal assent… sorry, I’m talking in riddles again; that means the Queen signed it so it could become law. And how does all that boring stuff affect my brother’s wretched marriage, you ask? Well, you may not know that Harry is the fourth of five siblings, four of which are girls.”
“Oh… I’m starting to see it now.”
“Of course you are. Before the Act got approved it was a given that, when our father died, Harrington would became Baron Mountjoy; but now, under the new law, the title will go to our older sister Eleonora.”
Hallie’s American common sense kicked in. “But why did Charlotte care so much about a title?”
“Because with the barony comes the house in London, the great house in Dorset, a couple of cottages and a bit of land. The property cannot be divided, the Act didn’t change that. It’s a package that goes straight from one Baron to the next.”
“When you say a bit of land, how many acres are we talking about?”
“Well… I suppose that it’s slightly more than most people own. Not quite half of the county of Dorset.”
“Oh, wow.” Hallie made a mental note to look up the Mountjoy barony in Wikipedia as soon as she got home. “So, Harry was going to inherit all that, and now…”
“And now he’ll be just the Honorable Harrington Craig for the rest of his life. Which he doesn’t give a toss about, of course, because all he’s wanted to do all his life is cook. Unfortunately for him, Charlotte had her eyes set on being Lady Craig and wearing a tiara; when she saw that was impossible, things started going sour between them, until she finally left. I have my suspicions that she was having a thing on the side, too… but I have no proof, so I’m not going to tell Harry.” Georgiana looked at her friend and smiled. “Welcome to the strange and wonderful world of the British peerage! I promise it becomes easier to navigate after a while. And most people don’t care about titles, of course; we’re like a strange race of dinosaurs that maybe one day will become extinct.”
Hallie laughed. “Oh, don’t say that! And forgive my ignorance… we don’t get taught about titles and stuff in America.”
“Of course not, it would be an absolute waste of school hours. And now that I’ve bored you enough, let’s go back to the party. We’re going to tell Brenda a couple of naughty secrets about Gordon Ramsay so she can include them in her book.”
“But I don’t know any naughty secrets about him!”
“Use your imagination and make up something scandalous! Let’s see if we can give her enough of a shock and she shuts up for five or six minutes.”
They got back to the living room, but Hallie could barely concentrate on the conversation. If she closed her eyes she could still see the picture of Charlotte, like a perfect Greek statue shrouded in pale grey fabric, flashing her perfect red lips and flawless skin, with her lustrous dark hair tossed over one shoulder.
If that was Tom’s idea of the perfect woman, why had he asked her out? And what exactly had Charlotte done to make him so bitter?
She shook her head, trying to banish the worrying thoughts. From the other side of the room, Harrington smiled at her and raised his glass, and she did the same. She decided to stay and have some fun talking to all these new people… after all, it was a really good party.
Tom’s plan of getting supremely drunk after Hallie left had backfired on him halfway. The only thing he felt like drinking was beer, and he had just finished the last one. There wasn’t any left in the kitchen, nor in the pantry, and to make things worse he had also out of cigarettes.
He paced up and down the spacious flat like a caged lion. He had the sudden idea of texting Luke, to see if his best friend could be of some help.
‘Luke, mate, are you awake?’
‘Good evening, Thomas. Of course I’m awake, it’s not even midnight. I may not be a party animal, but I still don’t get in bed at nine like an old lady.’
‘That’s the spirit. Look, I’m not having a good night, can you come over?’
‘I’m spending a couple of days with my parents, remember?’
‘You’re in Oxford?’
‘I told you on Thursday, Tom.’
‘Damn.’
‘Sorry. I can come back early tomorrow and we’ll have lunch at the pub. Then you can criticize all the food and feel superior.’
‘No, you stay there, I can manage.’
‘By the way, my Mum says hello.’
‘What is she doing up at this hour?’
‘We just came back from a Sound of Music sing-along. Don’t laugh, it’s more fun than it sounds.’
‘Someday I’ll blackmail you with this information.’
‘Tosser.’
‘I love you too, mate.’
Tom threw his phone on top of the table and lit his very last cigarette. He wasn’t drunk enough to go to sleep, nor sober enough to work on a new recipe, or read, or do anything remotely constructive. Then he remembered that there was an off-licence two streets away: if he was condemned to be alone and bored, at least he could get properly drunk.
During the time it took for the elevator to go down the 42 floors he thought of Hallie again, and it left him confused. To make things worse, Charlotte appeared in his mind without warning, and that made him downright angry. Almost two years since she had left, and he still couldn’t think of her without a nasty feeling in his stomach.
The fresh air of the street did him some good, though. It was a cool, clear night, and the City of London seemed quiet and spooky, perfect for his moody state. He felt relieved to see that the off-licence was open; he bought some cigarettes and a pack of beer bottles, thanked the Pakistani boy behind the counter, and hit the street again.
He didn’t really feel like going back to his flat just yet, so he wandered along the edge between the Barbican estate and the Golden Lane (where Hallie lived, although he commanded himself not to think of her). He had never paid any attention to Golden Lane or his inhabitants before… but it was nice, he thought, with its low buildings and curved roofs. Like the Barbican’s shabbier sister, but still with a lot of charm. They even had one thing better than the Barbican: their own pub, called The Shakespeare for God knew what reason.
Tom’s newly developed attention to the architecture of the City got interrupted by the sound of a car driving close to the estate, and what he did next was really strange, even for him. He normally didn’t react to things hiding behind a pillar.
The reason why he did such a silly was that the car in question had stopped in front of Crescent House, and Hallie had come out of it.
He let out a bitter laugh at the irony of the situation. Of course his steps would take him right to Hallie’s doorstep (even though he’d had no idea that she lived in Crescent House), and of course she would choose that moment to get back home and remind him of his disaster of a night.
But back from where? asked a still lucid part of his slightly boozy brain.
The car started again and left in the direction of Goswell Road. Now Tom could see it clearly under the streetlights, and what he saw made him go livid. He waited until Hallie had gone inside and then he practically ran towards his place, not stopping until he was safe inside the flat.
Hallie had arrived home in a silver titanium Tesla, and he knew perfectly well who owned a silver titanium Tesla: the man who had been one step ahead of him all his life, the man who had destroyed his happiness once and now had every intention of doing it again.
Why else would Hallie arrive home at midnight… in a car belonging to Harrington Craig?
