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<div style="text-align: right">aven miller<br/>
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Aven knew it was wrong to sneak into the kitchen like this at night. It was different when Alejandro had been the owner. He'd allowed Aven to come and go whenever she pleased, allowed her to experiment in the dead of night. He only had two conditions: that she clean up any mess that she made and that she still came to check the fish inventory at five in the morning. That left Aven with little room to sleep and yet Aven still crept to the kitchen when Sebastian had gone to work and Aven had been restless at home. <br/>
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This was different though. Rafael had given her no permission to slither into the kitchen at two in the morning like some disjointed thief who had no sense of direction. She was sure that if she asked, Rafael would bark out a quick 'no' before having her do some tedious task as punishment for asking. Aven bit back her aggravation at the thought. The past week and a half had been hell working under Rafael. He was aggressive in tone and Aven was downright petty. They used to work as seamlessly as a lock did with a key and now they just barely kept from tearing into each other's throats. It was a mess. Being wary of him at all times had Aven inadequate with her work too. Just yesterday Aven had messed up a roux. A damn roux. She hadn't messed up on such a simple base since she was a chef-in-training. It had been embarrassing even though no one had noted her screw-up except for Rafael. To top it off, she still hadn't told Sebastian about Rafael. She was fearful of how he'd react. Sebastian wasn't a particularly angry person. In fact, she had only seen him shout once and it had been at the television when he was watching a game of basketball. Still, Aven had disclosed to him the innards of her relationship with Rafael when they were drunk and Aven was sure he hadn't just forgotten that. <br/>
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The stress of having Rafael around and the guilt that came with not telling Sebastian about the blue-eyed man had Aven coming down to the restaurant every night. for the past five days Sure, she had a kitchen in her apartment with Sebastian, but it wasn't the same as using the one in the restaurant. In the restaurant with all the large, metal bowls, the perfectly sharpened knives, and a clean, spacious area, Aven felt the most relaxed. When no one was breathing down her neck and when she was not concerned about aggravating Rafael, Aven was able to fall into the comforting rhythm that came with being a chef.<br/>
<br/>
The moment she was done washing her hands, Aven was quick to pull out the ingredients for her dish. Tonight, she settled on a creme brulee. Aven hummed while she whisked up four egg yolks. She found comfort in the sound of the whisk pitting against the metal bowl methodically, the whoosh of whipping air into the eggs a solace so familiar that it may as well have been reminiscent of a mother hugging her child. Aven perched the bowl neatly to the side before pouring in a cup of cream into her heated saucepan along with the scrapings of vanilla bean and a half cup of sugar. Notes of warm caramel and amber infiltrated the air, the scent causing Aven to smile. Creme brulee was Aven's first 'complex' dish she had mastered. It was the dessert that had her winning a scholarship to one of the best culinary schools in New York. <br/>
<br/>
Her gentle mixing stopped when she heard the sound of the door cracking open. Aven halted in her spot, body paling, and heart racing. Did...was someone<i> actually </i>trying to steal from the restaurant? Aven shut the stove off immediately, hand folding around a rolling pin. What kind of person would steal from a restaurant? What were they interested in - the knives? Aven assumed if she were a thief and had an interest in robbing, she'd probably go for the knives too. Aven should call someone. She hunched down to the floor and her fingers fumbled with the pocket of her jacket. The sound of her phone clattering to the floor filled the air and Aven cringed.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i></div>