The Billionaire’s Cook

Coraline

Stepping through the glass doors of the condominium building, I tried like hell to keep my jaw from dropping at the luxuriousness of my surroundings.

I followed the quiet doorman as he led me towards the elevators. It had smooth steel doors I could see my reflection in, and when he pressed a button, they slid open with an expensive whoosh.

“Thank you.” I said with a smile when he gestured for me to enter, indicating he wouldn’t be following me all the way.

Nerves swarmed my stomach when the elevator doors closed behind me, enclosing me alone in its sleek confines. Scanning the buttons for the one indicating the penthouse suite, I pushed the cursive P and took a deep calming breath when it started counting up.

I couldn’t believe I was being summoned by Mr. Alessio Castelli himself. Even though I had only been in Manhattan for less than two months, I knew all about the elusive billionaire.

Everyone talked about how young and extremely successful he was. He had businesses in almost every major city and a few countries in Europe and South America. His wealth was something my mind could never comprehend. And he had amassed all of that at only twenty-seven years of age.

He was also extremely hot. Gossip rags and celebrity magazines always caught sneaky shots of him at charities, corporate galas and black-tie events. He had a different date each time and was always wearing a brooding expression, but that just seemed to add to his mysterious aura.

No one knew much about him except what he put out there. But now he was personally requesting my presence all because of that one meal I cooked on behalf of Mrs. Gretchen, my landlady and his housekeeper, when she was too sick to do it herself.

I didn’t know what to expect so I was a little scared. Then the numbers stopped counting at 20 and the elevator doors opened into a lavish-looking hallway.

There was a large polished door opposite where I stood so I walked towards it, glancing at my watch.

I had been told to show up at 8am and it was currently 7:59 so there wasn’t any time to delay. I took another breath and pressed the intercom button, hoping to God I wasn’t walking straight to my doom.

A buzz sounded before the door clicked open so I pressed my palm against the cool wood to push it further inside. Stepping carefully into a large foyer, I peered around as the door swung close behind me.

Everywhere was eerily quiet.

“Hello?”

My voice bounced back towards me. I walked further inside and turned a corner that opened into a sunken living space. This time around, I couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping.

“Wow.” I breathed in awe. Everything looked shiny and spotless and so damn expensive. A leather sectional sofa set, a clear glass center table, a 75-inch flat screen TV, a massive gas fireplace, a mini bar, and an entire wall of windows showcasing the city’s breathtaking skyline. It looked like something out of a movie and I was almost tempted to whip out my phone and take a picture.

But I had to remain composed. So I only inched towards the windows and fed my eyes by taking in the gorgeous view of Manhattan’s cityscape.

I was so engrossed in what I was doing that I almost missed the soft sound of footsteps coming down a set of stairs.

I snapped back up straight and turned around towards the sound, trying not to look guilty as hell.

A tall figure approached me, dressed in a black turtle neck and pants, and I sucked in a breath when I realized it was Mr. Castelli.

I tried to stop my eyes from roaming to take in everything about him in person but I simply couldn’t help myself. He looked absolutely delectable. The cameras hadn’t been doing him justice at all. He had a built frame, lean and strong, and he moved with a confident grace, effortless with a touch of arrogance.

His eyes landed on me and narrowed, and I tried to push away the feeling of being an intruder. He had been the one to invite me here, hadn’t he?

He said something into his phone and it was only now my brain took in the fact he had been on a call, speaking in a foreign language. Italian, I was guessing, since that was where he was from.

He tossed the phone on one of the side stools after ending the call and gestured towards the L-shaped sofa. “Miss Harper. Please have a seat.”

His voice was smooth with a little bit of husk to it, and the deep tone propelled me into action, sliding my butt onto the soft black leather of the sofa.

He lowered himself into the armchair across from me, spearing me with a direct gaze.

“Would you like anything to drink?”

The sudden question halted my squirming and I blinked, hands clutched together in my lap.

“Um, no thank you.” I answered. I just wanted to know what I was here for. I felt so out of place with my blonde hair in a lopsided ponytail and my backpack falling off one shoulder. My clothes were worse, the light cotton blouse and baggy sweatpants looking extremely cheap surrounded by all the luxury around me.

“You look uncomfortable,” he observed.

“I’m fine.” I blurted, not wanting him to stare at me for longer than necessary or drag this odd meeting out too much. “Please, why am I here?”

He leaned back, steepling his fingers together in front of him and spreading his legs. The pose made him look like a king looking down at his subject.

“You prepared the chicken curry soup I had for dinner last Friday, correct?”

I only nodded, dreading where this was going. I had only wanted to help Mrs. Gretchen so she didn’t lose her job. She had been really weak as she recovered from the stomach bug she had contracted and I knew she wouldn’t have been able to prepare a whole meal for her employer by herself, so I had stepped in and helped.

But what if Mr. Castelli was the kind of person who didn’t eat just anyone’s food? What if my food had disgusted him so much he now wanted to punish me for it? I had asked after his dietary requirements and if he had any conditions or allergies but I could still have gotten something wrong.

These questions and conclusions whirled around in my brain as I sat there panicked and slightly trembling that I almost didn’t hear his next words.

“I want you to be my personal cook from now on.”