The Billionaire’s Bun In Her Oven - Ellie Rowe Page 0,20

and all my parent’s interesting, wonderful friends. What happened? I wonder.

Oh, thank Christ for Darlene! A mimosa is waiting for me next to a particularly delicious-smelling coffee. I check my watch. I’m still a little early. I decide to sneak into the kitchen to thank her.

“Psst!” I whisper until Darlene sees me and comes running over. I give her a huge hug that she returns. “You’re a saint, did you know that?” She laughs and holds my face.

“God, it’s good to see you! I’ve gotta up my game, you know, now that there’s another chef in the house.”

I roll my eyes, but she holds me firmly. “I’m serious. I’d tell you if I heard otherwise, but you’re the real deal. Good people like good food, that’s all there is to it.”

She jerks a thumb out the door, “Cranky people like good food, too, but…”

I smother my laugh, and we hug again. “Now get out there before you get in trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am!” I laugh and head out with my drink in hand. My laughter fades as I face the dining room. If only I had something to share with them. Something to make them proud, to prove I was doing the right thing with my life.

I know I don’t need their approval, but… Goddamnit, Paulie! Why get my hopes up? Was his intel finally wrong? I’m about to continue when my phone starts to buzz in my pocket. I check my watch; I’ve still got enough time. I stroll to the sitting room and answer the call.

“Hello?” I answer plainly. To be honest, I’m terrified these days to answer phone calls. Never know if the press somehow got hold of my number.

“Cynthia?” Oh God, I’d know that deep voice anywhere. It’s fucking Stephen.

“Oh. Yeah. Hi.” Get a grip, you idiot. I steady my heart rate and dumbly listen to what he has to say. I’ll be damned, Paulie was right!

Stephen wants to feature me on his new show, “Into The Fire”, about restarting failed restaurants. It’s a bit of a slap in the face, but I’ll roll with it.

“Can you meet me tomorrow?”

My stomach flips at the request. I know he means it’s for business, but a girl can dream, right?

“Of course,” I answer as professionally as possible.

“Excellent. I look forward to seeing you.” He hangs up without another word. Oh, he’s looking forward to seeing me, does he? I’m damn near skipping as I round the corner. My mother just starts to chastise me, but I put up a hand.

“I’m terribly sorry for my tardiness, but that was Stephen Longvale on the phone. He’d like to feature my restaurant on his new television show,” I smile brightly, waiting for my parent’s response.

My father grins and is about to speak when my mother cuts in “Stephen Longvale? That cursing, salacious television celebrity? Oh, my word, what on earth has it come to!”

I should have known!

“Tell her!” My mother gestures to my father.

“Well, sweetheart, that’s all very exciting — however, we’re just not sure a man with such a following and such a foul mouth should be ‘helping’ our daughter.”

“Why isn’t it ever someone nice?” my mother wails. “Why must it be such a rascal! Why couldn’t it have been someone with manners? Someone like Kyle —”

She’s still talking, but I keep silent; mostly because I know exactly what Stephen Longvale can do with that foul mouth.

Sixteen

Stephen

I come up short as I approach Origin. In the front window of the restaurant, someone has plastered a notice:

Temporarily Closed by Order of the NYC Health Department.

It makes me grimace. I think back to the night of ‘Origin(al) Sin’ (as some tabloid website nicknamed the rat incident). Well, isn’t that why I’m here? To resurrect this place?

Turning my eyes from the notice, I catch myself checking my hair in the window’s reflection. Why the hell am I checking my hair before a business dinner?

Because I’m weirdly nervous. No... I’m not nervous. I’m excited.

Wait, is it possible to be excited and nervous at the same time?

This is a business dinner, right? Not a date? No. Definitely business. Still, there’s nothing wrong with looking forward to an evening eating a delicious meal with a gorgeous woman, and maybe making a delicious meal of that gorgeous woman later…

Taking a deep breath, I shake out my arms and try to get a fucking grip. When I’m at least fifty percent there, I try the door. It swings open easily. Walking inside, I come up short once again.

Cynthia has just