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New York City, his one goal had been to work for the aging French master who ruled the Manhattan culinary scene. St. Clair’s reputation was on par with the truly world-class chefs like Joël Robuchon and Marco Pierre White, but Ben had been attracted not only to the other man’s creative take on haute cuisine but to his showmanship as well. Maurice had been one of the first true celebrity chefs, and Ben had wanted in on the whole package. He’d done it, too, brazenly waylaying St. Clair in his SoHo restaurant. The older man had been furious and had had Ben thrown out onto the street, only to call him back before Ben had time to brush the dirt off his jeans. It had been trial by fire, but Ben had thrown himself into making it work.
    By that time, Cory had started dabbling in drugs and their father was only a year into his sobriety. Ben had needed an outlet for his anger and his energy, and the grueling seventeen-hour days had provided just that.
    Maurice had taken Ben with him to Las Vegas when he’d opened La Lune, but a heart attack had forced St. Clair’s early retirement. At twenty-six, Ben had been one of the youngest people ever to be made executive chef of a five-star restaurant. Three years later, Michael had visited the restaurant and proposed brokering a deal with the then-fledgling EatTV channel. By then, Ben’s temper was legendary throughout Vegas and the restaurant industry as a whole. Michael had pitched A Beast in Your Kitchen to capitalize on that and set Ben apart from the regular crop of down-home chefs and overly enthusiastic commentators on the cooking channels.
    The show was a runaway success, and Ben had enjoyed the fame and notoriety for a while. Lately he realized that being the loudest person in the room didn’t always mean he was listened to the closest. Often it only left him with a sore throat and headache.
    “I need a break,” he said finally, resisting the urge to shout the words at the top of his lungs. “I want you to clear my schedule for the summer. At least until preseason meetings start for the show.”
    “Let’s get this straight. You don’t have a location yet. You have no team or investors working with you, and you haven’t even started on the menu.” Michael snorted. “Is this a premature midlife crisis?”
    “I don’t give a shit what you call it.” Ben kicked at one of Zach’s discarded sneakers lying in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m taking my time with this, Michael. I’ve earned it.”
    The publicist bit down on his lip. “You know how fast this industry moves, right? How many hungry guys there are out there, just like you a few years ago, vying to take your spot at the top?”
    Anger bubbled in Ben at the veiled threat, but he let it wash over and through him before answering. “Maybe I’m ready to hand it over.”
    Michael looked around as if someone important might be listening. “Don’t say that to anyone but me, Ben. The food industry is a killer. You know that. They’ll smell your indecision and start circling like vultures.”
    “Go back to New York, Michael,” Ben said with a sigh.
    “You’ve got an event booked in Vegas at the end of the week.” Michael whipped the iPhone from his pocket and punched at the screen. “I can push back a few of your network appearances, but this is an industry showcase. If you cancel at this point, the gossip will be brutal.” He glanced up from the phone. “It may even send reporters after you.” He swept one arm widely around the kitchen. “We’ve been able to keep your family business under wraps, but it won’t be difficult to figure out once people start looking.”
    Ben bit back a curse. “Fine. I’ll make sure Dad’s available for the kids and I’ll do the Vegas appearance. I want some time after that, Michael. I don’t give a damn about the network or the brand. I’ve got something more to offer than screaming at people who don’t cook the way I want them to.”
    Michael gave a small