Malcolm didn’t have a lot going for him. He wasn’t one of the blessed, or one of the beautiful. He didn’t have many talents. He was, however, a damn good chef. He worked hard and he insisted on perfection -- not just from himself but also from everyone else in his kitchen. And if that made others miserable, that was just too damn bad. If one couldn’t live up to expectations then one didn’t belong at Burgeon Manor.<br><br>Darien on the other hand, was everything Malcolm envied, hated, and secretly fantasized over. Lean, slim, with a smile that could melt ice and enough charm to woo demons, Darien surprised Malcolm by showing not only interest but also attraction. Which only meant one thing as far as Malcolm was concerned: Darien had to be playing some kind of game. There was no way that a rock god like Darien Flint could have honest feelings for someone like him.<br><br>Yet the more Darien tries to know him, the more Malcolm feels himself being drawn into the lie.

Rockabye

“Me, you idiot!” Reynolds shouted. “He would have to talk to me! You might be the king of this kitchen but these are my employees you’re dealing with! I’m the resources manager, Malcolm! I do the hiring and the firing!”


Reynolds brought his free hand up to his forehead and looked around the room with wide, shocked eyes. “Seriously! What am I supposed to do with you? Do you know what I would do to someone else that pulled that kind of bullshit? This is two thousand and twelve, Malcolm! You can’t talk to an employee like that! You can’t—”


Reynolds stopped himself, sliding his hand down his face and cupping it over his mouth for a long minute. “You know what?” he said finally, releasing Malcolm’s clothing. “We’re not doing this here. Go to your office.”


“No.” Malcolm began to undo his smock. “You don’t talk to me like a child you’re disciplining. I told you. He’s fired or I qui—”


Chapter 22