Dead Plate Oneshots Your Father Won’t Like This

The hum of the kitchen equipment was finally dying down, leaving La Gueule de Saturne in a quiet lull. Most of the kitchen staff had filtered out, eager to escape the bistro and claim what was left of their night. But Rody lingered, heart pounding, his hands busying themselves with meaningless tasks as he cast covert glances toward the kitchen.

Vanessa Charbonneau—daughter of the restaurant’s owner, chef, and quite possibly the most unattainable woman Rody had ever met—was the last to leave the kitchen every night. She ran things with the same intensity and precision as her father, and even if she was just as formidable, she held a kind of allure that had Rody’s heart thudding every time she caught his eye.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed her sharp gaze lingering on him a little too long during shifts, or how she’d brush his hand a second longer than necessary as they passed one another in the narrow kitchen. Rody knew exactly what he was risking each time he stayed behind. The bistro wasn’t just any restaurant—its owner, Monsieur Charbonneau, was notoriously unforgiving and protective. If he knew his prized daughter was sneaking off with a waiter like him, Rody was sure he’d be thrown out on his ass—or worse.

But even that wasn’t enough to stop him.

Rody’s breath hitched as he heard the click of Vanessa’s heels growing nearer, a faint smile creeping to his lips. He felt the same thrill he did every night when the kitchen closed down, leaving the two of them with this sliver of stolen time.

“Still here?” Her voice was low, smooth, with just a hint of a challenge.

He looked up, his gaze sliding over her sharp features and the small, secret smile on her lips. “Just… cleaning up. I figure, why rush home?” He shrugged, feigning innocence.

Vanessa stepped closer, her fingers tracing lightly over the counter as she moved to him. “You know,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, “my father would kill you if he found out.”

Rody chuckled, feeling the thrill of danger coil in his stomach. “Guess that means I’m living on borrowed time, huh?”

Her dark eyes glittered with amusement, and he couldn’t resist it any longer. He reached for her, sliding a hand around her waist, pulling her close enough that he could smell the faintest trace of the evening’s spices on her skin. She was warm, her body a welcome weight against his, grounding him even as his heart raced.

They came together in a kiss that was searing, almost desperate, the tension of their secret shared alone in this empty restaurant. Rody could feel the strength in her hands as she clutched him, her fingers slipping under his collar, trailing heat against his skin.

“Rody…” she breathed as he kissed her, his lips pressing along her jaw, tracing her pulse until she shivered beneath his touch.

“Mm?” he murmured, nipping at her ear with a soft laugh. “Am I going to lose my job over this?”

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, a mischievous smirk on her lips. “What do you think?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d kill me. Maybe fire me first, if I’m lucky.” He chuckled, leaning in to brush his lips over hers, the sensation electrifying even after all these nights together. He was addicted, captivated by the feeling of her against him, the thrill of knowing that every moment with her was a line he was never supposed to cross.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone teasing. “Losing your nerve?”

“Never,” he replied, his voice a low growl as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He felt her body respond, softening as he pressed her against the counter. The kiss deepened, her hands in his hair, tugging slightly as he moved his lips to her neck, grazing her skin until she gasped, her breaths shallow against his cheek.

He could imagine what her father would think if he walked in now. He knew Monsieur Charbonneau was meticulous, the kind of man who believed every detail, every person in his kitchen, needed to fall perfectly in line. And here was Rody, defiling the one person in Charbonneau’s life that he might have held above all else. It was a dangerous thrill, knowing he’d fallen so far over the line, knowing that he would never stop.

The thought made him smile against her skin, feeling her nails dig into his shoulder as he slid his hands down, gripping her hips. She tilted her head, her lips pressing against his neck, her teeth grazing his pulse, and he groaned, tightening his hold on her as the kiss grew fiercer, his desire for her spilling over.

“You know he’d probably do more than just fire me,” Rody murmured as they pulled apart, their breaths coming fast. “I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him to make it… painful.”

“Maybe he would,” she replied, her eyes dancing with mischief as she smoothed her hand over his cheek. “But if you’re so scared… why are you still here?”

He met her gaze, a cocky grin forming as he leaned in to kiss her again, slow and soft this time, savoring every second.

The kiss lingered, slower, both of them savoring the thrill of their stolen moment. Rody’s hands wandered along Vanessa’s back, fingers pressing into the fabric of her chef’s coat, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath. He drew her closer, as though the closeness could erase the reality that, come morning, they’d be back to the careful distance they always maintained in front of everyone else.

She pulled away, eyes dark, her breaths still unsteady. “You know,” she murmured, tracing a fingertip along his jawline, “you’re insane for risking this. For risking us.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning as his hands settled on her waist, holding her firmly against him. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

Her lips quirked in that same half-smirk, half-scowl that always drove him crazy. “I’m not the one risking my job,” she replied, voice low, but she didn’t move to pull away. “Or maybe I don’t mind seeing you squirm a little.”

“Squirm?” Rody chuckled, leaning his head close until their lips were nearly brushing again. “This is a pretty good view from where I’m standing. Besides, if anything, I think I’m just helping you live a little.”

Her gaze sharpened, though there was still a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Careful,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair and tugging just hard enough to make him exhale sharply. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like a little heat.” He kissed her again, deeper, until they were both melting against each other, the intensity building with each passing second. There was no need for words when they were like this, only the sounds of their breathing, the rustle of clothes, the quiet hum of the nearly-silent restaurant around them.

Rody’s heart raced as his hands slid beneath the hem of her chef’s coat, feeling the softness of her skin. The contrast between the structured professionalism she wore like armor every day and the vulnerability he held in his hands now—it made him dizzy. For all the rules they were breaking, all the consequences that loomed over them, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

Vanessa’s fingers curled around his collar, pulling him close until her lips grazed his ear, her voice a low, teasing murmur. “You’d better hope no one ever finds out about this.”

He shivered, the edge of danger in her words only making his desire for her flare hotter. “Or what?” he whispered, pressing a trail of kisses along her jaw, watching the way her eyes fluttered closed. “Think he’d have me thrown out of here?”

She laughed softly, her voice dark and knowing. “Oh, he’d do a lot more than that. You’d be lucky if you only lost your job.”

The thrill of it, the high-stakes risk that came with every night they stole together like this, sent a shiver through him. He tightened his hold on her, pressing her closer, until her fingers gripped his shoulders, nails digging in as she gasped softly.

“I’ll take my chances,” he murmured, lips against her neck. “There are worse things than losing a job.”

She tilted her head, giving him that fierce, daring look he loved. “You’re not afraid of him, then?”

“Not afraid of much when it comes to you,” he replied, his voice rough as he met her gaze. And it was the truth. Whatever fear he might have had vanished the moment they were alone, leaving only the overwhelming desire to feel her, to hold her, to know that she was his in this small, stolen moment.

Her expression softened, just a little, before she pulled him back into a kiss, slower this time, her touch softer but no less demanding. They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, oblivious to everything outside the quiet walls of the restaurant.

The thought flickered through his mind again, the thrill and danger wrapped up in one: *What would happen if her father found out?* Would he explode with rage? Would he confront Rody, let loose all that pent-up fury in a way that might even leave him bruised? He could almost see the man’s scowl, the unforgiving coldness in his eyes if he ever found out how many times Rody had kissed his daughter, how many times they’d held each other in the dark of the empty restaurant.

And yet, each night, Rody came back, drawn by that forbidden promise, by the magnetic pull of Vanessa. Whatever the cost, whatever he had to face in the future—it was worth every second spent here with her.

As the quiet of the bistro settled around them, he pulled her even closer, sinking into the touch, the thrill, and the undeniable fire that burned between them.