Addicted: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance (17 page)

I could understand why Kim thought I was crazy. I mean, my father, Danyal Aksoy, had been one of the first Middle Eastern chefs to try and make it big in the United States. When he married my mother, Sandra Hepburn, they'd both found their soul mates. Between her business skills, backed by her family's old money, and Dad's culinary skills, they took his single little kebab shack in the east side of St. Louis and built it into one of the largest food companies catering to the Jewish and Muslim populations in North America. While Dad himself wasn't a practicing Muslim, and I'm pretty much a non-service attending agnostic, he had grown up knowing nothing but
halal
foods. He built off of that, and by the time the cancer took him when I was fourteen, he'd become a multi-millionaire by his own hand. After his death, Mom continued to build the company for a few years before selling it, and putting a large chunk of the proceeds into a trust fund for me. Last I checked, my yearly interest alone on the fund would be enough to let me live an upper middle class life without ever doing a damn thing.

But I knew, even before Dad died, what I wanted to do. He'd been taking me into the kitchen with him ever since I could walk, and some of my favorite memories of him were the two of us hanging out in the kitchen as he taught me the secrets of his spice mixtures, or how he got the consistency just right on his beans. "Someday Krystal," he would tell me, "you're going to have to cook for yourself. There's a whole world of food out there to discover. Enjoy it."

I did, and knew what I was getting into. After graduating from Kendall College with a degree in the culinary arts, I'd immediately gone out to all of the top restaurants I could in the St. Louis and Chicago areas, determined to find a position and work my way up. In that respect, I guess being young and rich helped, because I could afford to start off slicing vegetables for three hundred bucks a week. I'd worked my ass off for the past three years, dealing with the dictatorial executive chefs and the cut throat sous chefs, just waiting for my chance to get on the line.

My big break was within my grasp, as I heard the sous chef start making his way towards me from the other end of the kitchen. The head chef, Shannon, who besides having an ego the size of Chicago was actually pretty nice, had gotten a call from the producers of
Iron Chef America.
She was scheduled to take on one of the Iron Chefs in two months in a special holiday episode, and she wanted to put together her "battle crew."

However, Alinea couldn't close because of filming a TV show, so instead of just taking the top chefs who had worked with her for the longest, she had tasked Horst with selecting a crew that would listen to her directions best and produce for her with minimal guidance. Apparently Horst had a friend who was a sous chef for a contestant who had lost on
Iron Chef
, and said that it was the most important thing to do.

So that gave me my opportunity. With four of the kitchen crew gone, I had the chance to either take a place in the line, or if I were lucky, to maybe be the most junior member of Shannon's team for
Iron Chef
. I wasn't sure which I wanted more, honestly. I mean, three days of working the line directly under Horst would give him a clear view of my skills. On the other hand, if I could produce for Shannon in that one hour of television taping, it could be even better. If Shannon lost however, I might be out of a job. She had that kind of ego.

"Show your work, Aksoy."

I stepped aside, and let Horst look at my efforts. He hemmed and hawed as he looked with a hawk eye over my cuts. Finally, he stepped back and nodded. "Good work. I'm going to tell Chef Shannon that I think you would be a good member of her battle team."

"Thank you Chef," I said, doing my best not to completely flip out and start doing cartwheels in the kitchen. "I'll work hard."

"I know you will," Horst said. For the first time in the year and a half I'd actually been allowed to speak with him, he smiled. "Don't think I haven't been watching, Aksoy. I have pushed you harder than any of the other young ones who have come in the door precisely because I know who you are. In fact, I apprenticed under your father many years ago, although you probably don't remember. It seems that German DNA and Turkish cooking don't get along well. But he was a kind man, and when you came along looking for a job, I made sure there was something for you."

"Thank you Chef," I repeated, trying to control the tears that threatened to come to my eyes. I tried to think of words to say, and couldn't. "Thank you."

"Good. Now, I saw today you have requested time off next week to go to your mother's wedding. Is that correct?"

"Yes Chef."

"
Ja wohl
. I remember her, she is a fine woman. Okay then, starting tomorrow you get nine days off, including next weekend. Just remember, when you come back, Shannon will be expecting you to do competition practice as well as your normal duties. So don't relax too much on me."

"I won't Chef."

Horst nodded and patted me on the shoulder. "Now take ten Krystal, and go enjoy the moment. You've made it to the next step."

I smiled and gave him a nod as I walked away, making note that he used my first name.

T
he Castelbon Manor is immense
. Driving up in my rented Honda, I had to pause once I got out just to take it all in. I mean, growing up as Krystal Aksoy, only child of Danyal Aksoy and Sandra Hepburn, and one of only three grandchildren of Maximus Hepburn, I've never had a point in my life like some of my co-workers in Alinea where they didn't know where their next meal was coming from. I went to good schools, got to go on trips overseas when I was on summer vacation, and in general led a very good life. But Mom was a lot like me, in that she never wanted to flaunt her wealth. We lived in a gated community sure, but the house wasn't extravagant. Meanwhile, Castelbon Manor had a servant's quarters larger than the house I lived in when I was in high school.

If Mom hadn't had me meet Johnathan Castelbon before the wedding, I would have taken him for a stuck up man. But to my surprise, he was really a great guy. He and Mom had met while she was taking her once a year vacation to New Hampshire, where Grandpa Max had the Hepburn Estate, which just happened to be nestled among some of the best skiing in New England near Bretton Woods. Mom always was an avid skier, and had met John Castelbon while they were both resting in the lodge during a heavy flurry that took visibility to nothing.

It was love at first sight, according to Mom. I could see why too the first time I met John, after Mom insisted he visit Chicago to see our home. I was in my senior year of college at the time, and he reminded me a lot of Dad, with the same driven yet compassionate personality, and the same open heart. He and Mom are close in age, which I think was part of what allowed John to relax around her. He'd been burned twice in marriages before, both times to younger women, and having Mom around who didn't expect him to be a sugar daddy, allowed him to be himself. For the two years plus that he and Mom dated before he popped the question, I'd really gotten to know the man, and I couldn't have been happier that they were getting married.

Still, I was worried about one thing as I climbed the steps to the front door, my backpack over my shoulder. Supposedly, Julian was coming home for the wedding. The proverbial bad boy, Googling his name gave you more hits than his father's. I know, I'd checked one time. Of course, the results of that search weren't positive either. Drunken escapades in LA nightclubs, being seen with more starlets than I could remember, and being arrested seemed to be his favorite hobbies. The little bit the manor staff had told me, he was the same as a teenager, all of it beginning when Julian's mother and Johnathan parted ways when Julian was only seven.

Part of what worried me was that in every picture of Julian Castelbon I'd ever seen, physically he was the sort of guy I was into. Tall, dark haired, with the same sort of Nordic skin and features that made me think that in the Castelbon family tree there was a distinct Viking bloodline somewhere. The picture of him throwing down with that rapper's pose, his tank top torn off and his muscles rippling, had sat uncomfortably in my mind for weeks. If I had any safety, it was in the fact that by all accounts, he was a total selfish asshole. I'd worked around enough of those in the culinary world that I didn't need to worry about dealing with that in my personal life as well.

Ringing the doorbell, I was greeted by Yuki, John's . . . well, I never have quite figured out what to call Yuki. A beautiful Japanese woman, she in a lot of ways would be considered a butler, if her name were Alfred, if she were British, and if she were a man. Still, she ran the house well, and John depended on her to take care of keeping Castelbon Manor in top condition. "Ah, Krystal, how are you?" Yuki greeted me. That was another thing I liked about John, he never insisted on formality unless it was some society function sort of thing. Yuki had extended the same comfortable familiarity with me, a sign that she respected me. It was only with people she didn't like that she used the words mister or miss. "I hope your flight from Chicago went well?"

"Of course it did Yuki, thanks for asking. And how is Lizette?" By the way, Yuki is a lesbian. Kudos to John for hiring a Japanese lesbian as the person to run the manor in super conservative New England.

"We're both ecstatic. With the new court rulings, well, you know." I did know. The culinary industry has a high percentage of gays and lesbians too, and there'd been a lot of proposals and stuff like that over the past few months. "It is good to see you. How long after the wedding will you stay?"

"Only a few days," I said with real regret. Yuki was a little more than ten years older than me, and she really was nice. I wish I could have gotten to see her more often. "I got selected to be on a team for
Iron Chef America
."

"Really? Congratulations! If you can, can you get Masaharu Morimoto's autograph? My uncle in Kyoto is a big fan of his, even back in his days competing in the Japanese version."

"I'll see what I can do. Is John or my Mom around?"

"Yes, of course. John is in the back talking with the wedding planner. Sandra is in town, however. She's getting last minute adjustments to her dress. By the way, what will you be wearing?"

The two of us walked through the foyer to the entrance of the main garden. In my opinion, calling a property that is roughly the size of Central Park a garden is the height of understatement, but they've done a great job with it. Once you get past the first hundred and fifty feet or so of English manicured garden style stuff, John's let the area be a mix of hardwood maples and open patches of grass. John was standing in the middle of the manicured area, chatting with who I assumed was the wedding planner. On that note, why is it every wedding planner I've ever met wears a polyester blend suit, even if they're going around outside? "John!"

John turned and his grin threatened to dislocate his jaw. He's not super tall, just a shade over six feet, but he had the sort of debonair handsome look that I totally understood why Mom found him attractive. He kind of looked like Harrison Ford did when he was about fifty, although Johnathan Castelbon has a lot more silver around his temples. The sexy kind of silver too, not that sickly white of an old man. He kept himself in decent shape from what I could see, and Mom said he could still rip it up on the slopes when he wanted. "Krystal!" he said, totally ignoring the wedding planner to come over and give me a big hug. "I'm so glad you could make it early. Sandra is going nuts, and having you around would be very helpful."

"It's good to be here, Johnathan," I said. It was another thing I liked about him. While he treated me with affection and care, I could tell he had no need for me to call him Dad or Daddy. "What's Mom going crazy over?"

"Just nerves, and all the people coming in. I'm glad Yuki is here to help us, but I had no idea just how much political games went on when a Castelbon married a Hepburn. Roberta here is still trying to figure out the seating."

I just shook my head and smirked. "You know Johnathan; you could have just done a quiet personal ceremony. Mom wouldn't have minded. Me neither, for that matter. You know I'm not into this whole society scene."

"No way," he said with a sheepish grin. "My first two marriages were done low key and on the fly, and see how they turned out. Maybe I'm just being stupidly superstitious, but there's no way in hell I'm putting myself through that again. Three strikes and you're out, as the old saying goes."

"Really?" I laughed. "Tell that to Elizabeth Taylor. But seriously John, you have nothing to worry about. There's one big difference between my Mom and your two ex-wives."

"What's that?"

"Mom." It was a true statement. One of the things I did after Mom told me she was dating Johnathan was to do my research. I'm a little overprotective of my mother. In both instances, John had been taken advantage of by some gold digging types. His first wife had cooked up some accusations of mental abuse and adultery that even the court didn't believe, and had in fact hit her up with a contempt of court charge that landed her in jail for twenty days. Johnathan had still been taken to the cleaners since the couple lived in California at the time, a no-fault divorce state that had given her half of the marital assets they'd gathered in the eleven years they were together, although he fought tooth and nail getting custody of Julian, which back in those days was a rarity. His second wife hadn't waited as long when she realized that she wasn't going to be putting out a little heir to the Castelbon riches (rumors were she was infertile, but honestly who knows), and ditched him after only three years. Twice bitten, most people thought Johnathan would be content living the life of a bachelor for the rest of his days, until he met Mom. "Mom's different."

His grin softened, and he nodded in acknowledgement. "Yeah, you're right about that. And of course, she has the world's best daughter too. Thank you again for coming early, honey."