Chapter 188: Closed Kitchen

"The place was bought." the manager said.

"What?"

"We received a message from the owner yesterday. The property has changed hands, and we’ve been instructed to vacate the premises by tomorrow."

Her pulse started climbing. "What... what am I supposed to do? It was hard enough finding this place in the first place. No one is going to lease a commercial kitchen to me on such short notice. Please." Naomi looked at the manager. "I have a wedding this Saturday. I can handle the rehearsal dinner at home. I can make that work. But not the wedding."

"I’m so sorry, Miss Bennett," the manager said.

"Oh my God..." She turned toward Tessa.

Tessa immediately reached for her arm. "Hey, hey. It’s going to be alright."

"How?"

"I’ll start calling kitchens I know."

"Tessa, it’s Wednesday. The wedding is Saturday. That is not enough time."

Tessa squeezed her arm. "Let’s not panic yet, okay?"

The manager cleared his throat gently. "I’m really sorry, Miss Bennett. If you could just come inside and fill out the necessary forms, a refund will be issued to you immediately."

Naomi’s eyes welled up. She blinked hard and looked away, refusing to let the tears fall. She already knew what this meant.

There was a chance she could find another commercial kitchen on such short notice, yes, but it was very slim.

"Go on," Tessa said gently. "Handle the refund. I’ll make some calls."

Naomi nodded and followed the manager inside, filled out the necessary forms and listened while he apologised several more times. None of it was his fault, and she knew that. There was nobody convenient to be angry at.

By the time she came back outside, Tessa was standing beside the Range Rover with her phone pressed to her ear.

Naomi only needed one look at her face.

Tessa ended the call and immediately started scrolling through another number. "I’m still trying."

Naomi let out a slow breath and leaned against the car. "You and I both know it will be difficult."

"But not impossible."

"They trusted me." Naomi looked down at the pavement. "They trusted me without even knowing me. I assured them I could do this."

"And you can."

"How? I have a wedding in three days, Tessa. I need space. I need equipment. I need somewhere that can actually handle the volume. What am I supposed to do?"

"Come on," Tessa said, rubbing her arm. "Let’s go. We’ll figure something out."

And for the rest of the day, they tried.

They drove through the city hunting for anything remotely workable.

One place had everything Naomi needed except it was already booked for Friday and Saturday. Every phone call began with hope and ended with some version of sorry.

By evening, Naomi’s optimism had been beaten down.

Tessa was still trying even pregnant and tired.

Eventually, Naomi pulled over outside Tessa’s building. Under different circumstances, they could have continued until one of them died of old age.

But Tessa was pregnant.

"I’ll keep looking. I promise. But I’m not dragging you around the city until midnight."

"You’ll call me if you find anything?"

"Yes."

Tessa finally got out.

Naomi watched until she disappeared safely into the building before pulling away.

For the next hour, Naomi kept searching.

She made more calls, followed recommendations that led nowhere.

At some point, as night began settling over the city, she realised she was going to have to call her husband.

The thought came with resistance.

She wanted to call him but Naomi also knew exactly what would happen after that. Her problem would become his problem.

Dorian seemed genetically incapable of watching her struggle without reaching for the burden.

Naomi loved him desperately for that but she also wanted to prove something to herself.

Dorian had helped give her freedom.

She did not want to turn around and hand every problem to him simply because he would solve it faster. She knew he would inspire her not to give up, which she desperately needed at the moment.

She could at least make an effort to fix this one thing by herself first. So, Naomi kept going.

Kitchen after kitchen. Restaurant after restaurant.

She visited hotels with industrial kitchens, called event centres, spoke to catering companies.

Nothing.

Everywhere was either booked, unavailable or completely unsuitable for the scale of Ginny’s wedding.

By the time Naomi reached her final stop at the restaurant she worked at, exhaustion had settled so deeply into her body that even getting out of the Range Rover felt like work.

If anyone could help her, surely it would be the people she worked with.

Except they couldn’t.

The manager was sympathetic.

The days she needed were some of their busiest days of the week. Their own reservations were already packed.

There was simply no way they could free enough kitchen space for a wedding of Ginny’s size without disrupting their own business.

Naomi understood.

By the time she walked back toward her car, she was dangerously close to bursting into tears.

She unlocked the Range Rover and climbed inside, closing the door behind her and sat there thinking. Her hands rested against the steering wheel. Her throat burned. Her entire plan was collapsing around her.

Then her phone started vibrating.

Naomi pulled it from her pocket and answered without checking the caller ID. "Hello..."

"I hear you’re having difficulties finding space for Ginny’s wedding."

She knew that voice. "Camille."

A soft laugh drifted through the phone.

"Are you having me followed?"

"I’m plugged into this city, dear. People know me. People give me information. No one will touch you," Camille added wanting Naomi to know that whatever difficulty she was currently facing had not gone unnoticed.

"Ah... good for you. I’m told it pays your bills too."

"I warned you," Camille said. "Dorian may be able to protect you legally, but I have the power to reduce you to smithereens."

Threats didn’t even scare her anymore. Normally, she would have panicked, and worried. But too much had changed.

Dorian had taught her something without ever sitting her down and teaching it directly.

People were only as powerful as the fear you handed them.

"You overestimate yourself, Camille. I bend, but I do not break."