Daddy’s Billionaire Chef

“Hey Julia, it’s Jenny. There’s a driver here for you.”

“Thanks. Be right there.”

As I walked toward the reception area, Ethan stepped out of his office. “Julia, do you mind telling me why a car with a driver just arrived for you?”

I wanted to mutter curses, but held my tongue. “I have a date.”

“A date sent a driver?” Ethan looked absolutely flabbergasted.

“He’s very busy. I guess he uses hired cars to save time. Anyway, gotta go — bye!”

I could feel Ethan’s eyes on my back as I approached a man in a crisp black suit. “Good evening, Miss,” he said. “I’m to take you directly to Mr. Swansea. This way, please.”

I hoped that Ethan hadn’t heard the name, but he probably did. Yet I had no idea whether he would bring it up to Dad and rat me out.

It was impossible not to feel like a spoiled princess while being driven across town to a lovely restaurant with fairy lights and ivy. I was whisked inside by the driver, then the hostess, who led me to a large round table in the far corner.

A server dressed all in black appeared at my elbow. “Chef asked me to start you with a lemon water to cleanse your palate, Miss,” he said, setting down a glass. Then he placed a note beside it before leaving.

Matt’s handwriting was all blocky capital letters. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m stuck in the kitchen. I’ll just be a few more minutes.”

I felt like I was blushing. Who sends a note to apologize for making someone wait?

Matt was definitely quirky. A little old-fashioned. His sweetness, and the way he seemed dedicated to caring for me, was melting my heart.

After all the trouble he was going to in order to impress me, I wasn’t about to tell him it was overkill. Instead, I was going to find a way to show him how I felt the second we were alone.

I honestly couldn’t wait to kiss him again, but already knew that I was prepared to go much farther.

Chapter 6

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Matt

Chefs bark orders. It’s how a kitchen operates. There is so much ambient noise from all the chopping, sizzling, and pans clanging that the voice of authority must carry through the racket.

People who have worked in the industry would understand completely. It’s not personal. Sharp, loud commands get the job done. But to outsiders it would seem more like a military battlefield.

I couldn’t let Julia hear my usual tone.

Was it strange that I only wanted Julia to see my softer side? Maybe. I certainly couldn’t let her see me yelling when it was clear she already thought I was a bit of a bossy

jerk.

Chuckling to myself as I plated the last dish, it was hard to believe this was happening. Me, Matt Swansea, the chef once described as “ruthlessly brilliant and demanding” by the biggest entertainment show in America, nervous about impressing a woman?

How strange that after knowing her only a few days, her presence was already coloring every decision I made.

Should I go to the conference in Paris in the spring? Yes, if Julia would come with me. Should the catering for the Chester River music festival gala be similar to last years? Yes, but with her suggested modifications so that women will eat more comfortably.

I couldn’t think of a single time in the past ten years ago when I had listened to one particular person’s opinions so intently. I always thought I had all of the answers. Yet now, my world was being viewed through a new lens.

I wasn’t sure whether I should be horrified that I was going soft, impressed that I was evolving, or simply grateful that I had such an incredible woman in my life.

Balancing three plates, I went out to find Julia waiting at my table. “Sweetheart, you made it.” I set the plates in front of her in a row.

“Of course,” she smiled brightly.