She was leaving. After forcing herself to stand by the river bank and look over the Charles River for a long time, Alex had gotten rid of her anxiety and come to a simple conclusion. There was nothing for her in Boston anymore.

When she thought things through in a simple, emotionally-detached way, everything became clear. She came to Boston thinking she could learn how to touch people without pain. It turned out the only way to do that was to turn into a werewolf, which was a great big no. So, she no longer had a reason to stay in this crowded city fully of complications.

The fact that she wasn't sure why not becoming a werewolf outweighed being able to touch people without pain was unimportant. She would tackle those questions when she had space to do so. For now, she knew what she had to do. Finish packing and leave. Just as soon as she sorted out whatever it was that had Jacques sending a waitress to bang on her door in the middle of the dinner shift.

"This way, Chef Turner." The waitress walked her behind the bar of Petrichor and to the side entrance of the kitchen. "Mr Jacques is inside."

Alex pushed through the swing door, "What is going...on." Her words halted at the ludicrous sight before her. Jacques was pacing in front of a furious looking Luca who was being held down in a chair by two large men she recognized as the pastry and pasta chefs. In the meantime, the rest of the staff was filling orders at the instruction of the Sous Chef who was doing an admirable job pretending nothing was wrong.

"Chef Turner!" Jacques rushed to her side, his shaking hands stopping just short of holding onto her arms. "Please, make him see reason!"

Luca glared at the Maitre D', then looked at Alex's calm face. "Porco cane!" He muttered.

"What, what did you say?" Jacques turned back, leaning down to try to see Luca's expression better.

"I said you can bloody well let me go," Luca sighed. Sensing the change in atmosphere the chef's holding him cast a questioning look at each other. Their boss looked up, "Guys, go back to work, I will not do anything stupid."

"Oh, thank God!" Jacques rushed over to Luca as the chefs went back to work. "I'm so glad you've come to see reason."

Luca adjusted his white Chef's jacket and stood, not looking in Alex's direction. "I've only agreed not to go out there and beat that stronzo, but there is no chance in hell I will cook for him Jacques."

"Anyone care to explain what's going on?" Alex finally spoke up, deciding it was about time she found out what she was doing there.

"Ah, Chef Turner. I'm so glad you came, I mean he just looked at you and Chef Bisset calmed down-" seeing her impatient expression, Jacques held up both his hands, "Alright, not the point, I know. We just have a rather difficult guest tonight. He was dissatisfied with the food."

"He spilled his plate on Rachel's hand," Luca interrupted bitterly. "Her fingers are burned."

Rachel was a petite Singaporian waitress with a beautiful smile and manners. "Is she alright?" Alex fumed, ready to go out and beat the bastard herself.

"She's alright, she was just surprised. It was an accident," Jacques was quick to explain. "The gentleman was just a little rough while he was returning the plate, he didn't mean to give her a burn."

"Hah!" Luca snorted, "And now this gentleman who did not even offer an apology for this accident, is waiting on his main course! There is no way. No way in hell I'm cooking for that figlio di trioa! Stai scherzando? Non capire un cazzo!"

An Italian waiter who had come in to pick up an order leaned over to Alex, translating in a low voice: "That son of a bitch. Are you kidding me? I don't give a fuck."

"Very helpful, thanks," Alex rolled her eyes, she had already gotten the gist of message from all of Lucas hand gestures.

"Please, Chef Bisset." Jacques looked like he was going to cry, "The table was booked by Mr Moncrief himself. These guests are VVIP. What am I meant to tell them?"

Gabriel's guests, VVIP? So what? The rude bastard should have been thrown out of the restaurant. Making up her mind, Alex turned to Luca and held out her hand.

"What?" He looked at her in surprise.

"Give me your apron, I will cook for the stronzo." It was unfortunate that the last meal she made in Petrichor's kitchen was going to go to waste, but that was life.

Luca hesitated, trying to read her intention on her stoic face, then he shrugged, "As you wish, Bella."

Jacques was ecstatic at the turn of events and immediately told her the man's order. The kitchen staff knew her well and made room for her the minute she approached the cooking station. Risotto with Saffron and Liquorish. It was a dish Luca added to the menu, a variation they created from the Alajmo recipe he loved so much. Within moments the scent of saffron powder melting in spiced chicken broth filled air.

She fried onions, added white wine, the stock, salt and sugar. Bit by bit, the ingredients were layered as the rice absorbed more of the stock and more flavour. Once it was fully cooked, Alex took it off the heat, added butter, a bit more broth and parmesan, then poured it on two plates and sprinkled them with liquorish powder. Luca took a breath over her shoulder, then turned away, muttering about underserving bastards. Another slew of Italian curses she didn't understand followed as she took off her apron.

"You made two?" Jacques enquired, waiting to take the plates himself.

Alex tightened her ponytail, then picked up the dishes. "I'll serve these myself."

The Maitre D' was surprised, but did not protest. Luca on the other hand was starting to look a lot happier; it was evident that he knew her better.

Following Jacques out of the kitchen, she waited for him to point her to the gentlemen in question. Of course, it had to be a table full of werewolves.

The tall one that she had identified as the leader down in the lobby was sitting at the head of the table. To his left was the blonde who had been stuck to Gabriel's arm and the second oldest man with the nervous disposition. To his right was the teenage girl and the guy who was maybe twenty. It was the youngest guy, Jacques pointed to: "The dish is for the young man over there, Mr Mitya Korovic."

Right. Bergamot and red wine filled her nostrils as she came to stop at the correct table. The werewolves looked up, many of their faces reflecting surprise as recognition hit. Mitya spoke up first with a laugh, "You are the woman who asked for a fight in the lobby! You were a waitress here?"

"Mitya, I was telling you a story," his girlfriend pouted.

"I apologize for the interruption," Alex smiled. Then she placed the first plate in front of the man at the head of the table.

He looked at her in mild confusion, "I did not order the risotto?"

She gave him a smile, "I wanted at least someone to try it."

Before anyone could ask her what she meant, Alex dumped the contents of the second plate on Mitya Korovic's lap.

The werewolf flew out of his chair, swearing profusely as he wiped at the hot rice with his napkin. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Oh, dear. That was an accident." Alex said calmly. She could hear Jaques behind her reassuring the guests at surrounding tables that everything was alright. Other than the girl sitting beside him, the werewolves at Mitya's table did not stir. In fact, Alex was almost certain she saw humour in the leader's eyes.

"You, how could you!" Mitya girlfriend spat, still wiping at his trousers. "Don't even bother apologizing, I will have you fired!"

"I will not, don't worry," Alex smiled, then she tipped her head to the side to regard the leader. "Sir, is the risotto to you liking?"

He finished his mouthful, then put his fork down on his plate before nodding, "It's excellent. Quite special, like the chef who made it."

"Chef?" The girlfriend shrieked.

"Ivan, don't indulge the bitch," the blonde to his left sneered.

"No, no, my brother is right as always," Mitya who had now calmed down, pushed his girlfriend's hands away and straightened his dinner jacket. His smile was slow as he looked at Alex, "This girl is interesting. Why don't you come sit with me, hmm?"

Alex stepped back to avoid the hand that reached for her arm, but walked into a broad chest instead. The familiar scent that engulfed her had her groaning inside.