His Private Chef

At exactly 9:00a.m., my phone buzzed.

Jay: Outside. Come out, Vixen.

I’d been up since six, way thrilled to sleep. I raced to the door, nerves and excitement tangling in my chest. Outside, a sleek black Range Rover parked on the street. Jay lowered the window and gave a small wave.

“Hop in,” he said with a grin.

He seems like a morning person. His face was bright and cheerful. I slipped into the passenger seat. “Morning,” I greeted both Jay and the driver, who looked more like a bodyguard than a chauffeur. Black suit, dark shades,a black ink tattoo ran down his shoulder.

He gave a stiff nod and started the engine.

The car goes into motion. I was bouncing my legs in excitement. Today is like Christmas coming early for me.

He chuckled “You’re awfully giddy for someone who needed heavy bribery to be here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up before I change my mind .”

“Please. We both know you wouldn’t dare,” he said, smirking.

And damn it, he was right. If he bailed on me now, I’d genuinely cry. Not that he needed to know that. He’d never let me hear the end of it.

The studio wasn’t far. We arrived within twenty minutes, and Jay guided us inside like he owned the place. Which, honestly, he probably did in some way. The air smelled like leather and polished wood.

There are a bunch of recording equipment here. A microphone, audio interface, headphones, studio monitors and the rest I can't identify.

“This is where magic happens,” he said dramatically.

I smiled as he introduced me as his friend to the crew. That word warmed something in my chest.

Jay vanished into the vocal booth, headphones on, fully in his element. I took a seat in the cozy waiting area, scrolling through my phone to kill time.

Then, someone sat beside me.

I glanced up and froze

Mason Jacob.

The Grammy-winning, chart-topping, sinfully good looking Mason Jacob. I once had a massive crush on him.

This had to be a dream. I discreetly pinched my arm.

“Ow!”

He let out a hearty laugh, “Careful now. You’re not hallucinating.”

I blinked. “Wait.. was that an accent?”

He smiled, amused. “Yup. Grew up in London. Moved back here when I was nineteen. It slips out now and then.”

God. His voice is smooth.

I palmed my eyes. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“You did. And it was adorable.” He leaned back. “I’m Mason, by the way.”

“As if I didn’t know,” I muttered, embarrassed. “Emily.”

“Emily” he tasted my name in his lips ”Pretty name for a beautiful lady”

I blushed

“So, what brings you here?” he asked, eyes scanning the studio.

“I am here with Jay. More like he bribed me into coming with him” I snorted

He raised a brow.

“Jason Black” I clarified.

He chuckled, “That makes sense. He always strikes a hard deal.”

“You’re telling me.”

Mason tilted his head. “Are you his girlfriend?”

My eyes widened. “God, no. He’s just a friend.”

Introducing myself as a friend is better than admitting to working for the egotistical brother.”

“Hmm,” his hazel eyes lingering. “I see.”

I was dying to ask what brought him here, but I didn't want to cross boundaries. I guess my face gave it away anyway.

“I am here to see Jay. Finalizing details for my upcoming tour.”

I tried not to squeal. “That’s so cool.”

He paused, then looked me dead in the eye. “Wanna come?”

Was that a trick question?

“Hell yes!” I said, too fast.

He laughed. “Noted. I’ll talk to Jay and get your number before I leave.”

I watched him disappear down the hallway. Did that just happen?

I quickly texted Lisa: Guess who I just met?

I bet she will blow up my phone once she receives the text. She dislikes me when I do this.

By 12:45, Jay emerged, all smiles, with Mason trailing behind him. My brain had been slowly melting in boredom.

“Emily,” Mason said, stopping in front of me. “Almost forgot.”

He handed me his phone, and I punched in my number.

“Bye, beautiful,” he said with a wink.

My cheeks flushed. I was still recovering when Jay leaned in with a mischievous smile .

“Em Em.. Emily?” he said, tapping my cheek lightly. “I was right about you.”

I blinked. “What are you even talking about?”

He didn’t answer, rather he just wrapped a hand around my arm. “Come on, Vixen.You’re in for a long ride.”

Outside, the serious driver was already waiting. He gave him the next destination. He typed on his phone, glanced my way and continued. There's mischief written all over his face. I shot him a suspicious look.

“You’ve got a sparkle in your eye. What did you do?”

He just smiled.

After a 35-minute drive, the car pulled up in front of Marco Russo’s restaurant. The ambience is breathtaking, elegant and sophisticated. Soft lighting. Tables are well spaced to provide privacy. Crips linens, exquisite tableware and cutlery. Luxurious designs.

The architecture screamed money. The reviews were honest, this place was jaw-droppingly beautiful.

Jay walked in like he owned the place, clearly a regular. Perks of being rich and famous.

I followed, eyes wide.

And then, I saw him.

At a reserved table, cool and composed, eyes on his phone, was Mr. Liam Black.

My boss.

The walking embodiment of bad moods and brooding stares.

I froze.

Jay? He was smiling.

“You didn’t” I whispered.

“Oh, but I did,” he whispered back, nudging me forward.

Someone please give me a tangible reason why I shouldn't strangle him.

And yet,I walked forward.

Argh!!!

Let the drama begin….