CHAPTER TWO

Coraline

“Huh?” I squeaked out.

My brain struggled to comprehend what he had said.

“I want to hire you,” he repeated calmly. “As my personal cook.”

‘Why?’ I thought in confusion. ‘Didn’t he have dozens of other suitable, properly-qualified options?’

I even heard once he had a Michelin-starred chef friend he often invited on days he was craving food of outstanding culinary skill prepared with high-quality ingredients.

“I do. But none of those options prepare food that tastes like my mother’s cooking.” He suddenly said and I realized I had asked the question out loud. My eyes widened but he ignored my expression and continued speaking. “You managed to with that singular dish and now I want more. So, what do you say? Are you interested?”

I shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, not expecting this turn of events at all. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Castelli, but I don’t think I—”

“Five thousand dollars is what you’ll be getting per week for your pay.” He smoothly interrupted, causing me to almost choke on my spit at the words. My eyes bulged comically in my head and I was sure I must have heard him wrong. But then he went on. “I’ll pay you this month’s salary upfront which will be twenty thousand dollars. That is, of course, only if you accept my offer.”

“Um…” I gulped, my palms damp with sweat as indecision warred within me. I needed the money obviously, and this was like a golden opportunity for me. I could save up and go to college, pay off my parents’ mortgage, give my sister money for travel expenses to audition for as many roles as she wanted to. The opportunities were endless with that amount of money in my bank account. But I was still hesitant.

“How old are you?” Mr. Castelli asked. He was intently studying me, dark blue eyes steady on my face and I had a feeling nothing got past his watchful gaze.

“Nineteen.”

“Did you learn cooking from anywhere?”

“No. I just picked it up as a hobby. The little I know is from watching my grandmother.”

“Do you have a job currently?”

“Yes, as a stocking clerk slash cashier at a bookstore a few blocks down from where I stay.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, seeming deep in thought. Then he suddenly got up. “Come with me.”

My body sprang up at the command and I bit my lip at how jerky I was being. I followed his long strides into a contemporary-style kitchen. It was a large, bright space, all clean lines and sleek design with chrome accents. It was bigger than the entire apartment I and my sister shared, containing flat-panel cabinets, state-of-the-art appliances and a long, sturdy island.

I was afraid of touching anything in case I left a streak of dirt behind. Mr. Castelli might just be a clean freak because everything my eyes landed on was absolutely spotless.

“Make me toast, bacon and eggs for breakfast.”

My head whipped in his direction. “Huh?”

“Pretty sure I was coherent enough and your ears work perfectly fine.” He commented blithely. We were on opposite sides of the island and I stared at him as he threw the insult, caught off guard enough to be speechless.

“Coraline, am I right?” He asked and I nodded dumbly. What I wanted to do instead was hurl one of the apples in the fruit basket in my line of sight at his head. He might be an attractive man, with black, soft-looking hair that fell in perfect waves on his head and midnight blue eyes that bordered on hypnotic, but he also had the worst manners.

“I can tell you’re seriously considering my offer, so I’m giving you a chance to prove yourself,” he explained. “The first time might have been a fluke. Maybe it’s only chicken curry soup you know how to cook perfectly. Or maybe it’s only your kitchen you’re comfortable enough in to whip up something decent. I don’t want to take any chances before we agree on anything. So, get to work.”

I blinked at him. “Um, right now?” God, why was my brain so sluggish today? Nothing was making sense.

He arched one thick brow.

When he still didn’t move, I prompted again, “While you’re standing there?”

He muttered something in Italian under his breath and it sounded like a curse word. I took that as my cue to move my ass into action.

Turning towards the black marble counter, my eyes darted around, then I realized I didn’t know where anything was placed.

“Where can I find the ingredients I need?” I turned my head to ask and I caught his hand pointing towards a door beside the stainless steel refrigerator I assumed led to the pantry.

He was perched on one of the low back stools now, dark eyes following my every move. I briefly wondered why he wasn’t bothered about work. Today was a Monday so he was supposed to be at his company’s office by now, right? Or was it because he was the owner of his business meaning he could walk in at any time?

If that was the case, I envied him a lot. My bookstore shift began at 10am and it was why I was able to come here first without stressing about what lie to come up with at work. My sister Ashlynn was a different matter though. I couldn’t keep anything from her so I had told her where I was going.

Even if I had wanted to lie, she had been there when Mrs. Gretchen came to knock on our door and told us about Mr. Castelli wanting to see me due to the food I cooked for him. She had been ecstatic and believed he loved the food I made that was why he was requesting my presence while I thought the opposite.

I was a 100% sure the constant buzzing in my sweatpants’ pocket was her asking for updates.

Moving quickly, I obtained everything I needed in two trips and spread them out on the counter. Then I brought out the pan and got to work. This was the simplest meal he could have asked me to make and I was sure after he tasted it, he would see there was nothing special about my cooking.

I wondered why he thought so in the first place. Cooking wasn’t my passion or anything. It was simply something I loved doing to de-stress so my skills were basic at best.

Thinking about this while I whisked and cracked the eggs with the strips of bacon seasoned and sizzling on the pan to my left made me a little sad.

He had raised my hopes up with the prospect of getting a job that paid so much for doing so little. It was unrealistic, I knew. I shouldn’t have even given one second of thought to the possibility of it happening but I had, and now I mourned the loss of something I hadn’t even gotten in the first place.