How Is Dining Akashi Different From Other Cuisines?

When Manhattan’s most successful billionaire, Alessio Castelli, hires me to be his personal cook, I’m determined not to fall for him. Too bad he’s simply too hot to resist. He says I’m not his type, but he watches me like I’m his next obsession… and when his control finally snaps, he claims me as his, unable to stay away from me. What starts as temptation quickly turns into something far more dangerous; because men like Alessio don’t love. They possess. Just when I begin to believe I might mean more to him than a secret in his bed, a previous lover from his past returns… pregnant and claiming the child is his. Now I’m trapped between the man who refuses to let me go and the kind of heartbreak that will ruin me for good, because I’m already hopelessly in love with him. And the worst part? Walking away from him might be harder than staying.

At the five-star hotel where the blind date was set, leftover takeout was complimentary. I liked their Australian lobster and Poule de Bresse en Vessie. I packed my own portion and even helped box up what my date hadn't finished. Just as I picked up the bags to leave, he grabbed me with a dark look and demanded, "Jennifer, we agreed to split the bill. What gives you the right to take all the food?" I explained that he wouldn't be able to finish it anyway, and if we didn't take it, it would just be thrown away. He let out a cold laugh. "I paid for that food. Even if I toss it, that's none of your concern. Looks to me like you've been waiting for a chance to take advantage. I didn't expect you to be this kind of person. "I'd rather feed these leftovers to a dog than give them to you! And don't bother contacting me again. That petty, small-minded behavior of yours is disgusting." I pressed my lips together, at a complete loss for words. After all… this five-star hotel belonged to my family.

I set up a company cafeteria for employees with an abundant meal daily worth 150 dollars per person. Meals are prepared by a world-renowned master chef. Every day, I only ask my employees to contribute a token of one dollar. Instead of gratitude, all I get is their envy of the neighboring company. "I wish we had that. Their healthy lunches cost them nothing, and the company covers everything." "Yeah. Free salads always seem to taste the best." Before long, this chatter spreads through the office, and the new hires carry it into the company's group chat. "Mr. Shaw, can we switch things up? All this rich, heavy food is just too much for us!" A few of the senior employees quickly jump in. "Yes, Mr. Shaw! We're not asking for anything extravagant. We only want something like the healthy lunches the other company gives out for free!" Perfect. They ignore my lavish 150-dollar meals that cost them almost nothing, yet they pine over the neighboring company's modest lunches. I scroll through the chat, feeling nothing but sharp irony. I immediately send a company-wide email. "Attention, everyone! By popular demand, and so you can all experience a truly free lunch, the cafeteria's daily meal is reduced from abundant to simple starting today. "Snacks and fruit options are discontinued and replaced with the same healthy lunch set offered by the neighboring company. The company will cover the full cost. Enjoy your meal!"

I was in the middle of a shift when my coworker, Denise Sutton, popped up out of nowhere and slapped me on the shoulder. "Next week is Gerald's birthday, and your family happens to run a seafood restaurant. So here's the plan — I'll chip in ninety-nine dollars, and we'll all go over to your place for a feast to celebrate." Denise counted off the menu on her fingers. "We need lobster and king crab, the fish has to be live-caught grouper, don't skimp on the appetizers, and stock up on beer and soda. Gerald's got gout, so go easy on the shellfish for him. Make sure everything's perfect — don't embarrass our department." She gave me a playful nudge, waggling her eyebrows. "Once Gerald's happy, he'll cut you a bonus worth a few thousand. Won't that make you happy?" "You get paid, you get noticed, and the boss ends up in a good mood. Amy, you'd better be properly grateful to me." I just stared at her, baffled. My family ran a breakfast counter that sold meat pies. Where exactly was the seafood supposed to come from? I turned Denise down flat. Denise just rolled her eyes and walked off. That night, a sign-up thread went out in the work group chat. "Gerald's birthday party is Saturday. I'm treating everyone to a seafood feast, all you can eat, and you can bring family. Reply if you're coming!" The chat erupted in cheers. In under ten minutes, more than fifty people had signed up. [My dad's never even had lobster. Guess he's finally getting cultured, thanks to Denise!] [My kid's obsessed with tuna. Get extra servings for her.] Denise agreed to everything without hesitation, dropped a location pin in the chat, and sent me ninety-nine dollars. Denise: [Amy, hold onto the money. The ingredients better be fresh — don't you dare shortchange your own coworkers.] I looked at the pinned location and smiled. It was the upscale seafood restaurant next door to my family's shop — owned by a man who'd gone straight a few years back after a rougher life, with tattoos running all the way up to his chin. The last person who'd tried to dine and dash there still hadn't gotten out of bed.

I applied for a popular online job as a personal chef. I thought I'd be cooking simple, home-style meals, but I quickly found myself trapped in a world of surprises. The food they were craving was me, served on a platter. The wealthy women were looking for excitement, torturing me night after night. But what they didn't realize was, the real thrill came when the dogs turned on each other.

Right in the middle of the workday, my coworker, Stanley Graham, suddenly jumps up and slaps me on the shoulder. "Next week is Mr. Todd's birthday. Since your family runs a seafood restaurant, I'll tell you what—I'll chip in 99 bucks to treat the whole department at your place to celebrate!" He starts counting dishes on his fingers. "We need lobster and king crab. The fish has to be a fresh-killed red snapper. Don't skimp on the appetizers, and keep the beer and sodas flowing. Oh, and keep an eye on the shellfish. Mr. Todd has gout. Do a good job. Don't embarrass our department." He nudges me with a smirk. "When Mr. Todd walks away happy, he'll probably throw a massive bonus your way. You'll be laughing all the way to the bank. You make money, you get the credit, and the boss is happy. Dylan, you seriously owe me one." I stare at him, completely baffled. My family owns a small diner. Where on earth are we getting seafood from? The moment I flatly refuse, Stanley rolls his eyes and walks off. That night, a sign-up list pops up in the company group chat. "Mr. Todd's birthday is this Saturday! I'm treating everyone to a seafood feast. Eat as much as you want, and you can bring your family too. Add your name to the list if you're in!" The chat immediately erupts into cheers. In less than ten minutes, over 50 people sign up. "My dad's never even had lobster. Thanks to Stanley, he finally gets to experience something new!" "My kid loves tuna. Save a few extra portions for him!" Stanley promises everyone everything. After dropping a location pin in the chat, he transfers 99 dollars to me. "Dylan, take the cash. Make sure the ingredients are top-notch. Don't rip off your own coworkers." I take a closer look at the location and smile. It is the high-end seafood restaurant right next to my family's diner. The owner is a reformed gangster with tattoos climbing all the way up to his jaw. The last guy who tried to walk out on a bill there still can't get out of bed.