ALAYNAI feel miraculously light the next morning. I don’t have a fever anymore. But I’m late for work—it’s already nine, according to the clock on my wall—though Casey’s no longer next to me, so I think she probably made breakfast. But even then, I get ready for work and take the last medicine capsule. Cassius’s note makes me smile.
Don’t forget to take this. I’ll see you later - CassiusI briefly spoke to him last night because I was too lazy to get up. But when he checked my fever I was only pretending to be asleep, and then he left.
There’s no one around the dining area when I slip in, so I go to my kitchen to continue my daily routine when Ms. Lennie enters.
“Good morning, Ms. Lennie,” I greet, almost singing while I’m putting on my apron.
“Good morning.” She looks at me curiously. “Are you sure you can work now, dear?”
“I slept the whole day yesterday. I’m bored.” I glance at the schedule. Brandon wants a salmon en papillote. A French dish.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Absolutely sure.”
“Then make that for two.”
I halt and blink. “What?” I think for a moment.
“He’s working in his study today with Pauline. I was about to do it, thinking you’re still resting. He told me to take it to them precisely at eleven o’clock before he leaves the house by twelve, so don’t be late.”
Not twelve but eleven? And he’s working with Pauline? What work could it be? It probably wouldn’t hurt to ask before getting stupidly jealous.
“Um, Ms. Lennie?”
“Yes, dear?”
“What do you think they’re working on?”
“They didn’t say,” she says simply and walks away.
I always take cooking seriously, but I can’t seem to keep my mind focused. I’m getting the salmon slices wrong. The cut of salmon affects the taste too. If only Oliver were here...
I put my knife down, hold on to the island, and look down. I can’t seem to stop thinking about Oliver. It’s making me anxious. Not being able to do anything makes me feel weak. I take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and pick up my knife again. I have plenty of time to make it anyway.
And because I’m a chef, I chew my jealousy away and take the food upstairs at ten fifty-five. The door isn’t locked, but I knock just in case they are doing something else.
A smiling Pauline greets me, but something else shocks me. Her face. She’s skinny and pale, unlike when I first saw her in the mansion.
“Come in, Alayna.”
I smile a little. “Thanks.” I push the trolley inside and find Brandon sitting on the couch, dressed in a navy-blue bespoke suit, with a laptop in front of him and a pile of papers on the coffee table. He glances briefly at me, but he sets his eyes back on whatever he’s doing.
“Let’s put it here.” Pauline ushers me to Brandon’s desk and helps me place the dishes over it. She sniffs the air. “It smells good. Your cooking is delicious, Alayna,” she tells me, but my attention is on Brandon.
“What’s he doing?” I ask.
“Oh. Um, those are—pff—company matters. I’m helping him, though my expertise isn’t as wide as his or Oliver’s. I used to work in the same field back home too. Besides, I’m getting bored here. Do you mind?”
“Do I mind what?”
“Me working with him.”
“Why would I mind?” The lump in my throat and the sound of my voice say otherwise.
“He’s your ex-boyfriend“He told you?”
“He tells me everything.” She shrugs. “But even if he doesn’t tell me, I know him.”
My irritation deepens. “What do you mean?”
“Because he’s mine,” she whispers in my ear, and it makes me shudder, then she grins so sweetly at me. It makes me sick. I feel like scratching her face right now.
Is she provoking me? “So, Alayna, do you mind?” she continues.
I press my lips into a tight line. “That’s fine. It’s not like I can help with office work. This is what I can do. Cooking his meals. Satisfying his appetiteHer blue eyes narrow at me. “Alayna, can we just—”
“What are you two whispering about?” Brandon asks abruptly from the corner of the room. His eyes are still on the papers he’s holding..
“Um... I’m... I’m just asking Alayna to teach me how to cook,” Pauline says. Wow. How easily she pulled that lie out of a hat. Unbelievable. “Right, Alayna?”
His brows raise at me briefly, but he averts his eyes and types something on his computer. I wait for him to say something, but nothing comes out of his mouth.
“Right.” I make sure my voice is convincing.
“Brandon, why don’t you eat first? You’re leaving in less than an hour,” Pauline says.
“In a minute,” he replies, and I ache a little because he responded to her even if those are only three words.
Her palm squeezes my wrist before she releases me. “Thank you, Alayna.”
“You’re welcome,” I say bitterly, then I push the trolley to the door; but before I exit, I leave Brandon a message. “Just call me if you need anything.”
“Hmm.” He rubs his chin, then darts his eyes at Pauline. “Pauline, can you take a look at this?”
My heart clenches. I slip out of the room, but I stop by the door, grabbing the fabric of my shirt over my chest. I don’t think I can stay or watch him get along with his first love.
Besides having the urge to claw Pauline’s face, I realize that this is probably her true nature. She acted so sweet in front of Brandon’s cousins, looking like a fragile flower, but she’s a bitch, though probably only toward me.
She is stunning, I must admit. Born in an influential family, and probably smart too, since Brandon asked her for help with his work. No wonder she is his first love. Other than that, she’s supposed to be Brandon’s fiancée, and though arranged, it’s still all the same. In the future, Brandon will almost certainly decide to just marry her because it’s fated anyway. We’re probably exes now for that reason. What can I do to compete with that?
But what hurts the most is his sudden disregard for me. He could’ve asked me how I’m doing or if I feel better now. He was just so sweet and so caring yesterday that I’d almost forgotten how badly our relationship ended. I was close to giving up again... or taking him back if he asked me to.
I guess getting sick has its advantages. He’s back to being reticent toward me. Not that I wanted to be sick, I felt like hell during those sick days. All my joints were aching. I felt stiff and cold at the same time. I get back to the kitchen and start looking for something to do.
During my free time, I often study new recipes... There are thousands of dishes yet to try. I always love challenging myself to grow, and I have a dish in mind for today. It’s a fusion of cuisines from five different countries—Indian, Turkish, Chinese, Thai, and French. I’m not sure how to pull that off, but I think this is a fascinating idea. It’s going to be unique, rare, but very delicious.
Somehow, I want to share this with Brandon. At the back of my mind, if I can’t win his heart, I will win his stomach. Though thinking about this is already pointless, I’m still thrilled about the idea. It’s still my job to please him with my cooking skills after all. He’s got another request for dinner, I know, but he’s never complained about the meals I served him before.
I look for the ingredients; I never run out of supplies in this house, thanks to Ms. Lennie, so I have gathered all that I need.
I cook small portions of the five dishes each. I pause for a moment and think very carefully about how I’ll do the fusion. After a couple of minutes, an idea sparks in my head.
Three hours later, I feel exhausted, and the socket of my eyes feel sore again. I wasn’t successful this time, which is a pity, but I figured out where I was wrong, so I might repeat it later. It’s delicious but not enough to satisfy Brandon’s palate. I eat it instead because I hate wasting food.
I’ve forced myself to work extra, but being a private chef doesn’t always require a heavy workload, and I’ve prepared for Brandon’s meal early, so I sit for a moment to rest and browse the internet.
I look for the recipes online to divert my mind and type “Greek desserts.” I scan through the sites and stop on one. It’s a yogurt cheesecake with blueberries on top. Oh, how I love cheesecakes! I mean, anything with cheese is heaven for me. I’m not an expert in Greek pastry. Sure, I can make it now because of Oliver. But I’m most keen on Italian pastry because of Lucia.
Lucia Moretti...Annette Teller...I still can’t believe that she’d be the kind of person who could harm someone, especially a teenager. She’s a mother herself. She was very generous to me, very kind, and probably one of the world’s best chefs (in my opinion). Better than any chef in the Palazzo Franchetti or the professors in the culinary school I graduated from. She was loved by her students.
Lucia had the most beautiful home in Venice, so warm, so bright. I spent the holidays with her once, and I could never forget all those foods she prepared only for me. She helped me a lot too. She reminded me of Mom, and it saddened me when she decided to move to London.
But how can that woman have such a vile and disgusting past? I couldn’t believe that I laughed, ate, sang, celebrated, or cried with a woman who hurt Brandon when he was a teenager.
I shouldn’t be having these opposing emotions toward her. The Lucia I knew was the opposite of the woman I know now as Annette.
Who are you really, Lucia?And she even made me a very delicious cheesecake, too.
A knock on my door abruptly snaps me from my thoughts. I look over to find Cassius at the door.
“Cassius!” I smile and stand up to greet him, but he enters the room and embraces me; I can barely breathe.
He sniffs my hair. “Your color is back,” he whispers in my ear.
I chuckle, accepting his embrace. “You’re early.”
“I couldn’t wait for a few more hours,” he teases.
“You left work because you wanted to come here?”
He laughs and releases me, then holds my face. “I have an emergency operation at dawn, so I had to leave early.” He swallows. “Third-degree burn. It was... exhausting.”
“Oh. Is the patient okay? Come on, sit with me.” I grab his hand and take him to the island. Cassius perches on the barstool.
“The patient is okay. He survived the most critical part but will have a long recovery. Anyway...” He gives a deep sigh. “I was so exhausted, but I don’t think I am anymore.” He smiles sweetly and brushes my cheek with his thumb again.
I set my elbow on the island and rest my chin on my palm. I cock my head, looking into his undeniably gorgeous face—tired but still so beautiful.
I stare at his sapphire eyes... Those eyes gaze the same way they looked at me when I first met him. How can I not notice that? How can I not give more attention to that?
“Why do you think so?” I ask, smiling.
“Because I’m with you again,” he says, chuckling. He reaches over my lap and holds my hand. “Alayna, there’s something I want to tell you....”
“Hmm.”
“I thought about this, and last night, it just came to me. All these tragedies in this family, and with Oliver still missing, I realized life is unpredictable. We never know what’s going to happen. This isn’t the right time to say this.” He shakes his head. “But I want to understand what I’m doing, especially with you.” He kisses my knuckles. “I said I wasn’t going to ask for anything else. This should be enough, but, Alayna... I want you to tell me, even if it’s only small, do I perhaps have a place in your heart?”
My own heart skips a beat. I’m unable to speak, knowing that it still beats for his cousin.
“You don’t have to answer right away, of course,” he says. “You know I don’t want to rush you.”
“No, you deserve an answer, and it’s neither yes nor no. Cassius, I like you.” I touch his face. “Any woman would fall for you, but I don’t want to be unfair to you.”
“Because you’re not any“I’m confused with everything, Cass. My feelings for Brandon, his relationship with Pauline... Honestly, I feel stupid. I see now where they are going, and then there’s you. You give me everything, but I feel guilty because I don’t deserve it.”
“I understand,” he murmurs. “I understand.” He moves close to me and pulls me to him. “You don’t have to be guilty about anything. It’s my choice. But maybe you can do something for me.”
“What is it?” I whisper against his chest.
“How about we go for dinner? Just the two of us.”
“What?” I move away a little to search his eyes. “What did you say?”
“It’s only dinner, Laynie. Just like in Lawrence. We could go to a coffee shop. We don’t have to leave the house either, and it doesn’t have to be formal.”
I blink. “So you mean here? In this house? How?”
His eyes gleam. “What’s your favorite part of the house aside from this kitchen?”
My eyes wander around my station.
His mouth curls into a half-smile. “Come on, Laynie.”
“Library?” I scoff. “Definitely not.” That’s Brandon’s sanctuary. “Uh, central kitchen? No, no, no, too many people.”
“You didn’t even say yes yet,” he teases.
“Cassius!” I glare at him.
He laughs. “Okay, how about the terrace by the pool?”
“Hmm.” I cross my arms. “Fine, when?”
“Tomorrow at eight?”
“Done. I’ll prepare for dinner then.”
“Your mother is still the better cook,” he jokes and chuckles. “Oh, do you have something I can eat? I’m kind of starving.”
I clasp my palms. “Oh, there’s a new dish I tried to cook. I think I’ve got one more serving left. I’m not sure if you’d like the taste, though.” I get down from the barstool and check for food in the prep area.