Falling In (The Surrender Trilogy 1)

Her eyes focused on the first word.

Incinerator.

Scout had no idea what that said, but she knew it didn’t say kitchen.

Accounting.

Shaking her head, she firmed her lips and wiped her eyes. It had been too long since Parker and she had sat down to practice reading.

There were three more big words that she skipped because they didn’t look like they spelled kitchen either. Scout considered going to find Mona again, but the other maid seemed hassled to begin with.

Startled by the sound of someone coming, she discreetly wiped her eyes. A man in a white jacket came from a door down the hall. He had a smear of red on his cuff and carried a rag. He sort of looked like a chef.

Straightening her shoulders, Scout waited until he came closer and then asked, “Do you know Raphael?”

He stilled as if he hadn’t seen her standing there. “I am Raphael,” he said in a clipped accent that sounded French.

A huge sigh of relief puffed out her cheeks. “Oh, thank God. Can you show me where the service kitchen is? I’m supposed to pick up flowers and fresh fruit for the penthouse master suites.”

“I was wondering when you were going to show up. No Bridget today?” He said the other girl’s name like Brisheet and for some reason that pleased Scout.

She shook her head. “I’m assigned to that floor this week.”

He looked at her then, his eyes assessing her critically. Only because Scout was dependent on him to show her where the supplies she needed were, did she not snap her fingers in his face and demand he stop looking at her that way.

“I think you will have the top floor longer than a week, child. You’re prettier than Bridget.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Everything. Follow me.” He turned briskly and Scout rushed after him. He led her into the doorway he’d come from and she was suddenly in a bustling underground kitchen.

Stacks of pots billowed with steam, and wonderful fragrances of food made her mouth water. A man shouted in French and Raphael quickly said something back she didn’t understand.

Dishes clattered and phones rang. There was a computer screen overhead and a man assembling fruit cups at a counter read from the screen as he worked. Mesmerized, Scout watched him multitasking with nimble dexterity and bumped into Raphael. He turned and glowered at her, but then his features softened. Raphael had a nose too wide for his face.

“You like honeydew, Cendrillon? You taste this honeydew. It is so fresh it will bring tears to your eyes.”

His clean fingers reached to the counter were the man worked, and plucked up a green ball wrapped in some sort of pink meat.

“What is it?”

“It is prosciutto. Delicious. You taste and then tell me what a culinary genius I am.” He smiled and held the wrapped fruit out to her.

She carefully took the fruit from him and sniffed it. It was cool in her warm fingers. The sweet and refreshing scent of melon filled her nose. The meat had an earthy, smoked smell to it. Glancing to the chef one last time, he nodded.

“Just pop it in your mouth. Trust me. Delicious.” Raphael had very nice teeth.

Hesitantly, she placed the morsel in her mouth. Its salty, sugary flavor burst over her tongue and she moaned. Her teeth cut through the delicate, thinly cut meat and melon juice exploded over her taste buds.

“Oh, my God.”

“It is spectacular, oui?”

“Very good!” Her fingers covered her mouth as she chewed and swallowed.

“Bon. Now come with me, Cendrillon. I show you where your flowers and fruit are.”

Once Scout had the flowers and fruit loaded on a cart, she returned to the private bank of elevators and slid her key through B. No one was in residence yet and it was quick work, unloading the items for that suite.

Master suite B was quite different looking than the other master suite. Less lived-in and more generic. It had an air of luxury to it for sure, but it lacked the level of wealth and power the other suite projected.

Her heart raced as she took the lift back down and moved to the private elevator for master suite C. The ride to the top was way too short. Moisture built under the sleeves of her dove gray gown and her sweaty palms nervously smoothed her apron and adjusted her bonnet. He wouldn’t be there.

Pushing her cart out of the gilded car, she sighed and approached the entrance. Her knuckles rapped lightly on the frosted window of the door.

“Housekeeping.”

Reaching for her key, Scout’s relief was short-lived as a shuffle sounded on the other side of the entry and she stilled. The handle moved and the door opened. Smooth black patent leather shoes stepped into her view.

“Ah, Ms. Keats, do come in.”

Her jaw unhinged as her gaze traveled up expensively clothed long tapered legs, a trim waist evident under a neatly tucked shirt, broad shoulders, and a tanned throat with a dark shadow of beard. The man from yesterday. He smiled at her. Very perfect, white teeth. His visage was nothing like the irritated expression he’d greeted her with the day before.