BOUND BY THE DEMON PRINCE

Late afternoon at the Michelin Siri Restaurants

“I’m fckng broke,” I muttered, cursing under my breath as I threw myself into work again. The harsh reality that I had to hire new staff pressed down on me like a weight.

All week, I had been grinding nonstop, buried in the relentless rhythm of the kitchen. Dish after dish, plate after plate, I made sure everything ran smoothly despite the chaos in my personal life. The feel of the knife in my hand grounded me, the ache in my feet dulled to a background hum, and the thick scent of cooked meal,s dozens mingling in one confined space, became almost comforting. By midnight, the restaurant finally closed. The junior chefs cleaned up and shuffled out, leaving me alone. I dragged myself into my office and sank into the chair, staring at tomorrow’s candidate list. One hour later, my stomach grumbled violently, reminding me I hadn’t eaten a damn thing all day.

I wandered back to the kitchen and decided to fry some chicken. Half an hour later, slicing into the grilled meat with practiced ease, Luna appeared silent and smug. He perched on my foot, tail curling around my ankle, his grey fur glinting under the kitchen light, and the sly, cheesy little gremlin knew late-night cooking usually meant snacks for him too.

I chopped a few small cubes of chicken, dropped them onto a plate, and placed them on the floor. Purring erupted immediately, his warm body vibrating against my shin. With Luna distracted, I turned the flame back on to heat the sauce. Owning this restaurant was supposed to be my breakthrough, the pivot toward real success. I served my meal and finally filled my stomach. What was left, I tossed in the fridge. Luna had disappeared again, no doubt already curled up on the bed, waiting.

The bedside clock blinked 3:00 AM. I sighed, flipped off the lights, and collapsed under my pile of blankets. Exhaustion swallowed me whole.

The Next Day

By the time the fifth interview wrapped up, I was ready to scream. I was mentally fried, physically drained, and increasingly irritated. Most of the candidates claimed experience in Michelin-starred restaurants, God knows how. Their answers were so underwhelming I wondered if they were reading someone else’s résumés.

“Boss, just one more. Fingers crossed,” Chef Felicity Kafele said, barely masking her frustration. We both knew we needed a miracle, not another exaggerator with a polished résumé.

I was mid-sigh when I heard her clear her throat. I looked up.

“The next candidate is here,” she whispered.

I turned and froze.

Standing at the door was a man who looked like he belonged on a runway, not in a kitchen. He had the kind of face sculptors dream about. His brow was furrowed with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. His nose was strong, his full lips downturned yet expressive. But it was his eyes, deep, dark brown like a dying ember, that pulled it all together. His ebony hair, long and flowing, glinted with a silky sheen. He was tall, broad-shouldered, exuding the calm confidence of someone who knew exactly who he was.

Felicity was speechless beside me, and the man stepped forward. “I’m Leonardo Besian.” His accent rolled the r’s in his name, exotic and smooth like dark velvet.

I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to work. “Chef Levi Xander, and this is my assistant, Ms. Felicity Kafele.”

“Have a seat,” she said quickly, shaking his hand with a smile that didn’t hide her awe. Dimples. Of course, he had dimples.

Leonardo sat, gaze locked on me. I felt hypnotized.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Besian,” Felicity said, sizing him up like she was trying to solve a mystery or maybe just appreciate it.

“I read the job listing for the Michelin Chef role,” he began, finally breaking eye contact to glance at the files. “I’ll be honest, I haven’t worked in restaurants. My only experience is in my family’s guardian kitchen. But I’d like to request a food-tasting interview to show my skills.”

He came prepared, and there was a beat of stunned silence. Did he just walk in here and offer us a live demo? Bold move.

“I believe to be fair—” I started, but Felicity leapt up before I could finish.

“I’ll show you the kitchen now, Mr. Besian.”

“Please, call me Leonardo,” he said, his smile hinting at mischief. “May I proceed?”

We all stood, and I nodded. “Of course. Show us what you’ve got.”

My voice came out breathy, and I wondered what the f*ck was wrong with me?

“Indeed,” Leonardo replied, standing, and His presence shifted the air around us. We stared at each other for a second longer than was professional. Something crackled between us, curiosity. Chemistry? Chef Felicity, ever the professional, broke the tension. “This way, please,” she said, gesturing toward the kitchen.

“Aren’t you joining us?” Leonardo asked.

“Why?” I replied instinctively, almost defensively.

“I want you to see the extent of my skills, from start to finish. How else can I earn the role?” He gave a soft laugh. “I also plan to assist Chef Felicity in the prep.”

Was he always this confident? “Fine. I should observe everything, right?” I replied, unable to mask my own rising intrigue.

Leonardo laughed an unrestrained, deep laugh that filled the space and made my chest tighten. “Definitely,” he said.

“Follow me,” I muttered, trying to sound unaffected, but even I didn’t believe it.

In the Kitchen

Chef Felicity adjusted her jacket and led him into the walk-in freezer to grab fresh ingredients. The other kitchen staff gathered, curious, and Leonardo inspected everything meticulously. Then he started cooking, and he spooned a vibrant green tomatillo sauce onto a plate. The aroma was enough to silence the kitchen. Next, he pulled steaming packets from the pot, tamales wrapped in corn husks and plated them with delicate precision. Sliced raw onions added contrast. Then came a flank steak with Chile sauce, paired with a tangy cactus paddle salad.

He moved with ease, confident and precise, and finally, dessert: little dough balls, rolled and filled with spiced apple compote. Sealed, fried, and drizzled with hibiscus and vanilla sauces. The kitchen was dead silent except for the occasional gasp of delight at the smell. I couldn’t look away from him, and every move he made was measured, intentional... sexy. I crossed the counter and tasted each dish in silence. When I bit into the dessert, I moaned, forgetting the team was still watching.

“Congratulations,” I said, stepping back. “You’re hired as our new Michelin Chef. Chef Felicity will prepare your contract.”

The kitchen erupted in cheers. Felicity beamed, rushing to try the food herself. I, on the other hand, fled back to the office. I had never tasted anything like that before.

Back in the Office

I didn’t want to be attracted to Leonardo. But denying it was pointless, and his food warmed me in ways I didn’t understand. His honesty, his presence, it all made my pulse race.

He walked into the office and handed me a card. “For your records,” he said, smirking.

When our eyes met again, I swore he could read every thought in my head. “See you tomorrow at 8 AM. Start your rounds with Chef Felicity. After that, I’ll take you through management training,” I said, trying to keep my voice cool.

He looked surprised for a moment, then nodded and left, and only when the door closed behind him did I realize I was holding my breath.

“Levi Xander... what the hell did you just get yourself into?”

LEONARDO’S POV

I arrived at the restaurant for my interview, standing in the doorway with my demon beast restless just beneath the surface of my skin. It was usually quiet and contained. But the moment it caught the scent of the little chef, the handsome Levi Xander, it stirred. A surge of energy prickled across my skin, stealing my breath and raising goosebumps along my arms.

When our eyes met, it was like taking a punch to the chest. For the first time in over a thousand years, I was rendered utterly still speechless. Not a single human had ever disarmed me like that.

As I moved into the kitchen and began cooking, my senses sharpened. The way Levi’s gaze lingered on me. The way he tasted the dessert and moaned, completely unfiltered. I knew then he felt it too. The pull. The craving. He lusted after me. And gods help me; I wanted him just as badly. After the interview, after the congratulations, after he had vanished into the office, I hel