Explore "Adam's Breed" by Radclyffe Hall on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
And now Gian-Luca worked as never before, for he felt himself second only to Millo. There was no assistant manager above him, for Millo had always preferred to stand alone. He was not unlike a certain type of statesman who abrogates office after office to himself, mistrustful of other people's abilities. Oh, yes, there were accountants and clerks and cashiers, but what did they know about the ways of clients? Oh, yes, there was all that vast army below stairs, but who but Gian-Luca was responsible now for the standard of the dishes they served? Giuliano's grillroom counted for little compared with the two restaurants. Giuliano was gentle if dishes went wrong, as they sometimes did now that the best chefs were gone, but not so Gian-Luca -- he was difficult to please.
"Take this outrage back to the kitchen," he would order. "I asked for pommes soufflées, not greasy goloshes -- and get that Sauce Béarnaise remade, and be quick! I have clients waiting to be fed."