Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
We don’t see each other for a while.
That should be enough to siphon off any problematic arouse-y feelings, especially since the semi-final round of the CUM competition has started.
This time they give us five days to think up an innovative and tasty meal kit concept centered around the sandwich.
To continue the theme, I brainstorm fusion Punjabi-themed flavors.
Since Luke isn’t home these days, I spend all day and a lot of the night in the kitchen. This is too important not to put everything into it.
Eventually, I land on a dish. A spaghetti sandwich, but not just one made with simple tomato sauce, and herbs.
My spaghetti starts with tarka. A process that blooms spices, onions, and chiles in ghee.
What takes me longer to perfect is the balance of the sauce.
Tomatoes are acidic, so combining a bit of tamarind in there makes it more sour—which means I must also include sugar.
It’s a sweet and sour, Indian-spiced spaghetti put between two pieces of white bread.
I know.
Massive risk.
I’ve got no choice but to produce a recipe no one has seen before.
With the caliber of chefs I’m competing with, I have to show up loudly.
This is my shot to put myself out there and to prove to the judges I can bring something new to their company as a real recipe developer.
To convince them I’m not reductive or referential but an original chef.
The day after I send in my version of a sandwich, I meet Luke at a small, private charity event.
He’s elevated his usual handsome snobbery by wearing a fitted herringbone tweed suit paired with a matching vest. I’ve got a floor-length gown in a matching navy that cinches my waist with a built-in corset, leaves the corners of my shoulders bare, and floats away from the rest of my body.
A few paparazzi hang around the front entrance.
The people inside are rich, not famous. They might snap a photo of me, but it should only be circulated in small circles.
The world cares when Abbot Industries makes a wrong move.
They don’t necessarily follow Luke Abbot’s personal life.
He hasn’t given them a reason to care. Yet.
Mr. Duncan believes our pairing will make a bigger splash than we think. It’s a Cinderella story. I’d rather hope that’s not true.
Either way, I’m glad Luke is taking precautions.
We go into the venue separately and enter through the back. I smile when I see him inside and try not to let my spirit leave my body at the sight. It’s hard. There’s a very pleasant whoosh in my chest, followed by those pesky arouse-y feelings awakening again.
We meet on the edge of the event and look at the rest of the guests not-so-subtly flaunting their wealth by overbidding on auction items that perimeter the grand hall.
“This is it,” I tell him, “My soft launch into your world. A test to see if I can pull off the all-important conference.”
“Just remember, everyone here is terrible,” he says, “and how much better you are than them. That always works for me.”
“My ego isn’t as inflated as yours.”
“It could be. You simply have to catch up.”
“I’m rather planning to keep my morals intact. Though maybe I’ll role-play as a haughty ice princess who keeps her nose turned up in the air because she hates the smell of commoners.”
“Role-play? Will there be outfit changes?”
“Such a pervert.”
“For you, always.”
“Shouldn’t we go interact? People are looking at us. ”
“In that case”—he offers me his elbow and I take it—“let me do the work, and you stay as ravishing as you are.”
I’m about to joke about how it’s hard to compete with his stunning prettiness, but we’re off to mingle. People gravitate towards him, fighting each other for their five minutes of face time.
He’s good at this. Chatting, making them feel seen, joking in a language I don’t understand. Yachts, summer season, investment portfolio misses, how great the canapés are, that one play in New York most people can’t get a ticket to, and other one-percent talks I’m politely smiling at.
Everyone observes me curiously, and when they address me, it’s one of two questions.
How did you meet?
Or, what is it that you do?
My answers are: We met through my work and I’m a chef.
It’s the surprise third question, leveled at me by a Singapore electronics heiress that trips me up.
What restaurant do you work for?
I don’t know why, but I feel this prickle of shame. If only I could say I’ve won an international chef search and I’m an acclaimed recipe developer for Masala MealKits, but I can’t. So I think about lying and saying, I’m in between restaurants , but Luke has heard the question.
“She’s brilliant and independent. Before her, I’ve never considered how much analysis goes into building a recipe.
” He puts a hand behind my back. “The amount of detail is painstaking. You have to not only understand food chemistry but manipulate it in the smallest of increments. And there’s market research, and cost analysis, and an understanding of the customer that rivals the kind done at Abbot Industries. Honestly, her food speaks for itself.”
He sees me…as if I am more than all the insecurities I’ve piled upon myself.
This whole time I’ve been wondering if it really makes a difference, me being here beside him.
Mr. Duncan has elevated hopes pinned on my performance.
Sure, I’m laughing at the right time, and my arm is on his arm—but these topics, I can’t get a foothold into the conversations. They are moving too fast.
But Luke…
His words make me bigger than I feel.
The heiress looks bored. She walks away to the bar .
In her place, a bald man with a thick mustache engages Luke. I think he owns a fleet of ships somewhere. He’s asking him for a private conversation. Luke meets my eyes, clearly conflicted about leaving, but then a voice comes out from behind us.
“Look at that hot dress!”
It’s Theo.
I break character, shriek a bit softly, and hug him deeply. It’s not dignified, and immediately I get flustered because a few heads have turned. From the corner of my eye, I see Luke smile at us. I guess he’s okay with it.
“When did you get in?” I ask Theo.
He winks. “Actually, I never left.”
“Wait. So, where have you been?”
“Thighs,” he whispers to me.
“Oi—you found some?”
“Let’s just say I’ve only just come up for air.”
I pester him for more details. He takes my hand and leads me away from Luke, although I put up a bit of a fight.
“Shouldn’t I stay and support him? Isn’t that the point of me being here?”
“He’s doing fine,” Theo reassures. “To prove it, I’ll ask.” Theo beckons Luke by curling his finger at him.
It takes a while to work.
“You don’t belong in public spaces,” Luke says, coming up and glaring at him.
“You love me,” Theo translates.
“I do not. Last time, at one of these events, he put my name down and outbid everyone by more than triple the going rate.”
“For the orphans.”
“Incorrect. I spent a million saving some stink bug in the Amazon.”
Theo shrugs. “You can afford it. Anyway, I’m going to entertain Rita.”
“I can stay,” I interject. “By your side if you need me to?”
Luke shakes his head. “Go. At least one of us deserves to have fun. I’m with a man who hasn’t visited the dentist in a decade, and proceeds to flaunt that information by blowing in my face each time he talks.”
He goes back to his duties, looking decidedly like he is over them.
And with that, I’m released from my duties.
Theo and I walk around the room. He tells me about the shenanigans of rich people.
“Did you know the feathers on the centerpieces are from exotic birds? Also, all these chairs are brand new. Some people here refuse to sit on anything someone else has already sat on.”
I gasp. “No!”
We interact with the event planner.
She grins. “If you or Mr. Abbot need anyone who will go the extra mile for their clients, here is my card. I’m down for anything. You’ll discover I’m quite flexible. Very accommodating with a talent for organizing bodies of people.”
As I watch her walk away, I say to Theo, I’m unsure of whether I’ve been propositioned for a sexual encounter or for her business.
“Sexual encounter.” He swipes a flute of champagne for us.
“Speaking of, though not really, I declare we have a casual dinner party tomorrow night. I’ve been dying to meet your other two best friends so that I can reveal myself and declare I’ve replaced them.
Also, my idiot, overworked best friend will join because I find it’s wise to introduce your fake fiancée to best friends so they can judge the choice. ”
“He told you about me being his fake fiancée?”
“He did. And I’m loving it.”
“Of course you are.”
“So…about that party…”
“I doubt Luke will have time to spare.”
Theo’s mouth turns up, and he looks at me like I’m missing something important. “If you ask him to, he will. And don’t worry, I’ll throw the party at the penthouse, so you both are already home. It will be low key. Promise.”