His Private Chef

I was getting ready to resume my new summer job today. Technically, It wasn’t mine to begin with. My mom was the one who signed the six-week contract. I was just standing in for her.

I had come home to spend my last college summer with her. Senior year was just around the corner, and honestly, I couldn’t wait to get that degree in culinary arts.

My love for cooking, I inherited from my mom. A renowned chef in Los Angeles.

My father, God rest his soul, died when I was just four. Since then it’s been my mom and I. She’s all I got. So, when I returned home and found her looking pale. I knew there was no way I was letting her take on a job, no matter the personality involved.  

She did try her best to persuade me otherwise.

“I have already signed the contract” she said

But I stood my ground. Her health was more crucial than anything. No way she is working in this condition. You should see her. She looked unwell.

“It is the Black family Emily. You know how powerful they are. Just let me do it. I’ll rest after this job, i promise”

She had pleaded with me. No matter how heartfelt her plea, I won’t budge.  I offered to do the job myself instead. I grew up in the kitchens, assisting her through events. This won't be difficult for me to handle.

She needs to rest. So, I sent her to Houston to recover at my aunt’s place. Far away from the temptation of taking up a new job. I may or may not have threatened to never come home again if she refused. 

Funny how the roles reversed. I am now parenting her. She left yesterday evening, and the house has been too quiet.   

When I was done getting ready, I checked myself in the mirror. Black pants, a white top tucked in neatly, and my long black hair pulled into a ponytail. I looked the part. I nodded to my reflection, grabbed my keys, and headed out.

The address led me to one of those neighborhoods that are reserved only for the rich, powerful and Influential. Wide streets, well manicured lawns. Everything screams money. I am not surprised, it is the Black family. They dominate the business world. Real estate, IT, Hospitality. You named it. Their surname opens doors in this city.

I was granted access after I displayed my gate pass, drove along a breathtaking driveway leading to the main entrance. 

Holy moly 

 A gigantic building was standing in front. I muttered under my breath, “This money we’re working for, some people really have too much of it.”

I parked, took a breath, and stepped out.

The number of cars in the garage is insane. My little car looked painfully out of place.

The landscape is breathtaking. A large well-maintained lawn. A fountain at the center. An elaborate garden. I walked to the front door and rang the bell. A man in his early fifties opened the door.

“Hello, I am Emily, the new Chef.” I said.

He nodded,“Okay, come on in. Mr Liam will be down shortly. Wait in the kitchen” I followed him through a foyer that belonged in the palace.

This place is huge. Larger than a typical home. A grand foyer with high ceilings welcomes you. A sophisticated living room,refined furnishing and attention to details in every aspect of the design. Every detail in this house contributes to the overall sense of luxury.

When we reached the kitchen, he left.

Wow 

This kitchen is P*******t worthy. High end appliances. Ample counter space and a spacious island. Gosh! I am in love.

I was still admiring the space when a voice broke the silence.

“Well, who do we have here?”

I turned around, clutching my chest. “Oh my God, you startled me!”

There he stood. The famous Jason Black. The award winning singer. Dressed so casual in a gray tracksuit, looking like a walking billboard. Short brown hair, kind brown eyes that compliment it. With a captivating smile. 

“You look even better in real life,” I blurted, then immediately regretted it.

He laughed, loud and genuine. “It feels different when you get a compliment from a beautiful woman.

”I looked down, trying to hide my flushed cheeks.

He walked over to the fridge, grabbed a water bottle, and took a seat at the island. I joined him.

“So,” he asked, “what brings you here?”

“Work. I’m the new chef,” I replied.

He gave me a curious look. “You look young.”

“I’m filling in for my mom. She’s ill. Trust me, I’m qualified. Grew up in kitchens, studying culinary arts. I know my stuff.”

His eyes softened. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is she okay?”

“She’s getting better. Thanks.”

“You’re really chill for a superstar,” I added, smiling. “I’m a fan.”

He chuckled and took a sip from the bottle. “What’s your name?”

“Emily.”

“Well, Emily, you’re cool too.”

I liked him. He is easygoing, fun and humble. Not your typical spoiled celebrity stereotype.

“But you know who’s not so cool?” he asked, raising a brow.

I tilted my head. “Who?”

“My brother. Your new boss. Liam Black. He can be intense. Don’t take everything he says or does personally”

Why did that feel more like a warning than advice?

“Got it,” I said.

We started chatting about music, and I asked about the inspiration behind his song ‘To All the Memories’. He was in the middle of explaining when footsteps echoed in the hallway.

He glanced up. “Speak of the devil.”

I turned.

Dayum!

His is a masterpiece. Liam Black had entered the room. He is quite tall and muscular. Wearing a black three-piece Armani suit that looks like it was designed specifically for him. You could tell he frequented the gym. Chiseled jawline. Brown eyes. Perfectly carved nose. Hair slicked back with just enough curls. He smelled like wood and mint. Sophisticated. Intimidating. Its evident beauty runs in the blood. I understand why he is the most sought after bachelor in this City. The man is a sight for sore eyes.

He didn’t spare us a glance. Just walked straight to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and drank.

“He’s rude,” I whispered to Jason.

Jason stifled a laugh.

“Good morning, dear brother,” Jason said. “Your chef is here.”

Liam finished his water, turned slightly, and nodded once at his brother  “Jay.”

Then those eyes fell on me.

He didn’t say a word. Just stared. I couldn’t read his expression. Disapproval? Curiosity? Annoyance?

One thing was clear. 

This summer just got a whole lot more complicated...