One Night with Cinderella - Niobia Bryant Page 0,6
yet another success for Cress, INC.,” Phillip said, eyeing his adult children. “An empire that is the greatest manifestation of our two greatest loves. Food and family.”
Nicolette rose to stand beside her husband. “À la nourriture. À la vie. À l’amour.”
His mother’s favorite saying in her native French tongue. To food. To life. To love.
It was painted on the wall above all of her stoves—personal and professional—on the base of every pan in the Cress line of cookware, in the watermark of every letter from the various editors of their culinary magazines. It was also branded on all their online presences and the saying at the end of the cooking shows produced by Cress, INC.’s television division.
“À la nourriture. À la vie. À l’amour,” they all repeated in unison as they raised their flutes in toast.
Phillip Sr. and Nicolette shared a kiss and then a few more until they stopped with a reluctance that was clear. He took her hand in his and led her to the small area in the middle of the room, designed in shades of linen and bronze, before pulling her close to him to dance as he softly sang a French love song in her ear.
Gabe looked at them. He was single and mingling to his heart’s content without a thought of the lasting love his parents shared. Life had long since proven to him that he was a failure at balancing love and his ambition.
He stopped the pretty server with a polite and distant smile before setting his empty flute on the tray she held. “Thank you,” he said, unbuttoning the single button of his tailored black tuxedo jacket before turning to leave the room unnoticed.
For him, the night and the celebrating were over.
He made his way down the hall and then through the front of the house, barely taking note of the contemporary design, high ceilings and lush decor as he left the Tribeca restaurant and made his way to his waiting SUV. The driver left his seat and came around the front of the polished black vehicle to hold the rear passenger door for him.
Gabe thanked him with a nod and relaxed against the plush leather as soon as he’d folded his body onto the seat. The combination of champagne and the premium cuts of perfectly marbled and aged Miyazaki A5 Wagyu strip steak had been delicious but tiring. He was ready for a little solitude and self-reflection before the family returned from the restaurant and the festivities most likely continued.
Upon reaching the town house, under the cloak of darkness broken up by towering streetlamps, Gabe jogged up the stately steps and pressed his thumb to the biometric sensor to unlock the wrought-iron door and enter the marbled foyer. The length of the entire first floor was dimly lit with small pockets of light, breaking the darkness of night. With long strides he made his way across the wood floors of the living room through to the spacious chef’s kitchen.
On top of the island counter awaited a case of champagne and a dozen flutes.
Whistling, he grabbed a bottle and a flute to carry over to the elevator in the corner. He paused as he stepped on the lift and eyed the rear wall. He remembered that day when he’d walked in and barely noticed Monica standing there with her back pressed against it, as if trying to blend into it. A day like so many others. What was different was later that day, in the kitchen, he saw her—really saw her—for the first time.
And he had liked what he’d seen.
Still do.
He frowned, turning as he held the bottle and glass between the fingers of one hand and pressed the illuminated button for the rooftop with the other. The elevator gently shifted upward as he remembered the look of desire in her eyes and how his heart had raced at the awareness that quiet, reliable Monica had a hidden desire for him.
The thought of her made his gut clench.
Her beauty was subtle. Quiet. But once recognized? Not to be denied.
He released a breath and shifted back and forth in his stance.
What was most important about Monica Darby was her aptitude at her job as their housekeeper. How she kept her head tucked down and completed her tasks without disturbing their lives or breaking their trust in her. Many times his mother had raved that she was integral to their busy lives, even going above and beyond what was asked. The house ran like