FOUR

Delilah's POV

I stared at the ceiling for hours before sleep came, restless and hollow.

Just before dawn, my phone buzzed. I jolted upright, my heart racing. It was from the person I'd called earlier, inviting me for an interview the next day at 12 PM. My eyes widened in shock, and I let out a triumphant scream. I couldn't believe it. I was being called for an interview This was my chance.

I jumped out of bed and did a little dance, feeling a rush of excitement. It was the first time I had smiled since I found my husband cheating. This was truly wonderful news and I was going to do my best to impress them.

By mid-morning, I’d thrown on my best thrifted blouse and skirt combo, hair freshly brushed, lipstick swiped on with shaky fingers. I caught a cab to the interview location.

I soon got to the building and as expected, it was a large building. I got out of the cab and paid the man before heading to the lobby. I briefly explained why I was there to the receptionist who nodded and directed me to the elevator.

The elevator rose with a low hum, the soft click of each passing floor echoing in the silence. My fingers gripped the handle of my bag so tightly my knuckles turned pale. This was it. Everything rested on today. One shot. One chance.

The screen above the elevator doors flashed “4” and the soft chime that followed felt louder than it should have. The doors slid open smoothly, revealing a pristine lobby with marble floors and tall glass walls. It looked more like the entrance to a five-star hotel than a hiring office. My steps felt small and uncertain as I walked forward.

A woman approached, her heels clicking confidently across the floor. She had deep brown skin that glowed against her cream blouse, and her black curls were perfectly styled. Her smile was warm, and it reached her eyes as she stepped toward me.

“You must be Miss Delilah,” she said kindly, reaching out to shake my hand. “I’m Ava. Welcome to Luxe Chefs”

I nodded, trying to find my voice. “Hi… yes. Thank you for having me.”

“We’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Your resume was impressive. And your food photos? Gorgeous. Let’s get you set up, alright?” She said taking me by surprise. I was a bit scared as I had not graduated from any college or culinary school.

She turned and gestured for me to follow her down a sleek hallway. I trailed behind her, walking carefully.

We entered a bright test kitchen that smelled like citrus and spices and steel. A tall man in a black chef’s coat nodded at me without smiling. He looked strict, but not cruel.

“You’ve got one hour,” Ava said softly. “Make something that tells us who you are.”

I swallowed, nodded. “Yes… yes, okay.”

I looked at the ingredients placed in front of me and knew what I wanted to do in a heartbeat. And then I was moving—chopping, slicing, boiling, searing. I poured everything I had into making this dish. One hour wasn't enough time to make something luxurious but It was more than enough for me to make something impressive.

By the time I plated the final dish, a seared salmon resting on a bed of garlic lemon risotto with charred asparagus and a honey-balsamic glaze—I was sweating, breathing hard. I stepped back and waited.

The man in the chef’s coat approached, silent. He took one bite, then another. His face didn’t move, didn’t react, and I felt a tightness grip my chest.

Finally, he looked up and a small smile spread across his lips “This,” he said quietly, “is extraordinary.”

I blinked. “Wait—what?”

Ava laughed, delighted. “He never gives compliments. You just shocked the hell out of him.”

I couldn’t help it. My eyes filled with tears. “Thank you. I… I really needed to hear that.”

Ava stepped closer. “We think you’re ready. There’s just one more step.”

I looked at her, heart skipping. “One more?”

She smiled gently. “The client interview. You’ve been shortlisted for a very high-profile assignment. One of our most private and wealthiest clients. He’s looking for a personal chef to work in-house, long-term. If he likes you, you’re in. Everything changes.”

I swallowed hard. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then we keep trying,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “But I think you’re exactly what he’s looking for.”

An hour later, I sat in the back seat of a sleek black car as it sped through the winding roads that led to the heart of the city. After driving for a while, we drove past a tall wrought iron gate, I saw it.

The mansion.

It rose from the earth like something out of a fantasy—massive and ancient, yet modern in all the right places. It looked like a fortress. And I was expected to just… walk into it. I swallowed hard. Whoever owned this place was RICH. Richer than my former husband.. maybe.

The car stopped in front of the main entrance. Several guards, all tall and broad with sharp eyes and earpieces, watched my every move as I stepped out. My palms were sweating. I wasn’t just walking into a job interview. I was walking into a different world.

One of the guards stepped forward. “Name?”

“Delilah” I answered, voice barely steady.

He nodded and spoke into a mic at his collar. “She’s here.” A second later, the doors opened silently.

A staff member led me through a massive hall with chandeliers hanging like stars above our heads—and into a sitting room that could have been mistaken for a royal gallery. I sat on the edge of a couch, clutching my bag in my lap like a lifeline.

And then, I waited.

My heart raced. What if he didn’t like me? What if I said the wrong thing? What if I didn't get the job? What was I going to do then?

Then I heard footsteps.

Slow. Steady. Powerful.

The man who walked in made the entire room shift. My breath caught before I even saw his face and when I did, I almost dropped my bag.

No. Way.

I knew him.

That face, those eyes… I’d seen them in a photo Julian kept hidden in the back of his drawer. His Uncle. Calix. The one Julian never really liked. The one he said didn’t deserve taking over the company. The reason he left home bitter, carrying that anger on his shoulder ever since the board made Calix CEO.

And now he was here, owning the room like a damn god.

My brain scrambled. Was this his house? Was he the client?

Calix stood tall, his presence sucking the air out of the room. His black suit was simple, but looked expensive. And his eyes, hazel and unreadable landed right on me.

“You,” he said.

My mouth went dry. “Mr Calix,” I breathed, trying to regain control of my voice. “I- thank you for seeing me. I didn’t know…”

He stepped closer confidently before speaking. “Marry me.”

I blinked. “What?”