4

BRANDON

Try not to make it too creepy... Try not to make it too creepy...

It’s really simple. She’ll just have to pick up the damn phone, and I’ll ask her what I need. It’s not like I’m going to show her my face.

It’s very little information in exchange for a fortune I made sure she can’t decline. I saw her profile, so I knew exactly what she would need.

Damn it. But how am I supposed to talk to her if I’m this anxious?

I have not spoken to anyone besides my closest relatives for a long time. But this is the first time I think I’m close to reaching my objectives, and Oliver assured me that we finally found the right person.

That’s what I hope, at least.

“Brandon?”

I swivel my chair around and meet Oliver’s curious face. “Have you spoken to your new assistant? What is she like?” I ask.

“My new assistant or your new informant?” Oliver jokes and laughs. He pulls a chair in front of my desk and sits with his ankle resting on his knee.

I roll my eyes. “Oh, please.”

“She’s a little nervous and very curious, but I’m certain she’s talented. Though I also think she’s quite easy on the eyes.” A smirk plays on the side of his mouth.

I throw a crumpled paper at him. “I don’t care what she looks like! I need to know if she’s cooperative enough so we can move forward with our plans. How about you speak to her instead of me?”

His eyes squint at me. “You know that you have to be the one to speak to her.”

“You know my situation. I’ll only creep her out,” I retort. I pick up my stress ball and grip it to relieve my agitation.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. We can give it a little more time before moving forward, yes?” he says.

“I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

“She’ll be around. Besides...” Oliver stands up and stretches out his arms. “I really need an assistant or someone I can trust with your meals. You have to get used to other people’s cooking other than Lennie’s and mine, and you know exactly what I mean,” he says frankly, and he has every right to say those words to me. I can’t depend on him my whole life like I’ve done in the past decade.

I’m well aware that Oliver has a life of his own. Nevertheless, I honestly can’t imagine myself going through all this without him.

“And Lennie’s not going to be here forever,” he adds.

I gaze up at Oliver. “Neither can she,” I say, referring to his new assistant.

“You’re thinking too much. Relax, man. The future is uncertain,” he implies and grins. “Anyway, I have to get your dinner ready.”

ALAYNA

Over the past month, everything has been the same with Oliver and me. He is still funny, helpful, and I like being with him. I would’ve been so lonely if he weren’t in the house. I feel like we can be good friends.

However, I’ve been busier than ever for the past few days. Oliver has been working long hours in the office and often comes home late. He’s still the company’s CEO, after all. Considering how much he does around the house, I’d almost forgotten.

We have not had many talks since then, as he is so busy. Similarly, Ms. Lennie will only come to my station when the food is ready to serve our boss in Oliver’s absence.

I’m getting used to my job. I love making good food, and I’ve always dreamt of becoming a professional chef and owning a restaurant someday. Well, being an assistant chef means a lot more to me than being a food taster. Cooking has been my passion since my dad taught me how to move around the kitchen. He also used to tell me that good food is the way to reach people’s hearts. And I believed him. It reached mine as well.

My profession has been my escape from my greatest nightmares. I just wish he were still here to see me and my achievements.

Today is my lucky day because lunch is beef stroganoff. This is the dish I feel I’ve already perfected; my mentor back in Venice would always praise me whenever I cooked it for her. I switch my mp3 music on, putting in my earphones before I start cooking.

I finish preparing the meal at eleven-thirty. I take out a bottle of Merlot from the mini wine cellar and place it on the marble island with a glass. I find a notepad and write a note on it.

“I made you a topping sauce. It’s my own recipe. I hope you like it. Alayna.”

I leave the condiments to mix together and close the lid. An hour later, Ms. Lennie finds me in the kitchen, bringing back empty dishware. I rejoice at the sign of a clean plate.

“Ms. Lennie.” I greet her with a smile.

“Miss Hart,” she says. I can tell by her tone she is about to reprimand me, and my smile fades. “Master Brandon likes the meal, but he said it’s better if you don’t leave notes and clear the tray, or he’ll just throw it away. Didn’t Mr. Katrakis tell you not to improvise?”

My mouth parted. She’s talking about the condiments I don’t see on the tray anymore. I couldn’t understand what was wrong. He liked the meal, and he ate all of it. Why were they both upset?

“But I only did that because—”

She doesn’t give me a chance to speak and leaves.

“Thanks, Ms. Lennie!” I shout to the door, unsure if she even heard me or not.

Of course, I remember the improvisation rule, but I am also a chef. Oliver always told me that written recipes are not everything. He entrusted me with his cousin’s meal, and I know that food should not be taken lightly.

At dinner, I make him moussaka and serve it with a parsley and mint salad and crusty bread. Deliberately, I take out my stick-on notes, writing another.

“I’m glad to hear that you like the food, but those condiments were needed. Also, I added an egg soup. Kalí óreksi!”

Ms. Lennie delivers empty dish wares to the kitchen a couple of minutes later and disappears. I guess our boss didn’t complain this time, but then I notice a note on the pepper mill.

You make good food, Miss Hart, I give you that, but I don’t think you need to add notes every time.

Oh my God! Did he just reply?

I smile in victory and laugh out loud. He has beautiful handwriting too.