Chapter Thirty-Nine
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The commercial kitchen space was spotless, brightly lit, and as the name suggested, quite industrial looking with stainless steel appliances and surfaces at every station. But the large black-and-white ceramic tiles on the floor and the wide, open windows managed to keep the kitchen from feeling sterile.
Michel wistfully noted that it would satisfy Emma’s need for order as well as provide a welcoming space for her students. Guilt surged up inside him, knowing he intended to ask her to give all this up for him. But he would do everything in his power to help her realize her dream in Rouleme somehow. He would find a way.
He had arrived a few minutes early with his two cousins and his royal guard, hoping to provide some assistance with party preparations. But Emma unsurprisingly had everything under control—mainly by bossing Jeremy around to set up each station with the requisite ingredients and tools. She had her hair in a neat bun and wore a V-neck sheath dress in black with a crisp white apron tied around her waist. She looked impeccably professional without giving up an inch of her femininity.
“Emma.” He walked up to her and slid his arm around her waist, tugging her close. He inhaled her scent—she smelled like jasmine and orange blossoms—and brushed his lips against her temple. “How can I help?”
She turned to fit her body against his even as she said, “We don’t need any—”
“Yo, Chevalier.” Jeremy jerked his head at Michel, commanding him to his side. “Don’t listen to her. We need help setting out all the vegetable baskets at each station along with the color-coded cutting boards.”
After stealing a quick kiss from Emma, Michel reluctantly left her side to stride up to the master station with the neat stacks of supplies ready to be distributed. “Why do we need multiple cutting boards?”
“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Jeremy said with a smirk. “To prevent cross-contamination.”
Emma rolled her eyes at her godbrother. “Less talking. More working.”
“I came all the way from San Jose to attend a party,” he grumbled, “not to be your kitchen maid.”
“Come now, Jeremy.” It was Michel’s turn to smirk. “I’ll help lighten the load.”
“We’ll help, too,” Gabriel offered from the other side of the kitchen with Sophie by his side. They couldn’t seem to stop smiling at each other.
Emma noticed and caught Michel’s gaze with a happy grin. She raised her eyebrows in question, but he shrugged. He had no idea what was going on, but he was just happy that they seemed happy.
Marion didn’t offer assistance, too busy dragging her finger across the stainless steel counter and glancing around the kitchen with a kind of horrified fascination. At least she wasn’t getting in anyone’s way.
Unfortunately, Marion had gotten in the way plenty of times this past week. She’d walked in on every stolen kiss he shared with Emma with uncanny accuracy and interrupted any chance of a private conversation with a breezy Oh, don’t mind me . Not that he would propose to Emma with Marion in the vicinity, but he had gotten into the habit of carrying his mother’s ring in his pocket at all times in case the perfect opportunity arose.
Jeremy glanced around the kitchen, then froze with a carrot in his hand. He blinked after a moment and said out of the corner of his mouth, “You brought a Greek god to the party?”
“You mean Gabriel?” Michel chuckled. “That’s just my cousin.”
“ Just your cousin?” Jeremy snorted. “I’m so glad I didn’t bring Steven. I’d look like an ogre next to that man.”
“Are all Korean ogres so good-looking?” Michel said dryly.
The other man laughed. “You’re growing on me, Chevalier.”
“Enough chitchat.” Emma clapped her hands. “Let’s go.”
Michel and Jeremy jumped into action, laying out the ingredients. Gabriel and Sophie joined in to help. Marion glanced toward them as though considering offering her help. In the end, she meandered off to explore more of the kitchen.
With the preparations complete, Michel rejoined Emma at the master station and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Her busy hands stilled for a moment as she leaned back to smile up at him.
“Hi, Emma.” Sarah Bae hurried over to them with a wide grin. “Hi, Professor Chevalier.”
“Hello, Sarah.” He dragged his eyes away from Emma and managed to return her smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“I’m so glad you could make it.” Emma stepped out of his arms to give her friend a hug.
“This place is amazing,” Sarah said, but stiffened when Gabriel’s laughter rang out from across the kitchen.
Her eyes widened with shock as though she had never heard him laugh before. It was quite possible the Sphinx did not laugh even though Gabriel did so often. His cousin leaned close to whisper something in Sophie’s ear, who looked more amused than annoyed. That was a good sign.
“I assure you he’ll be on his best behavior tonight,” Michel told Emma’s young friend to soothe her obvious unease.
“He has been unusually considerate to me at school lately, but I’ve never met him in a social setting before.” Sarah grimaced. “Not counting that event at Town and Gown. But that was still a work function.”
As though his cousin sensed he was the topic of their discussion, he glanced over at them. A flush crept up his neck when he spotted Sarah—Gabriel felt terrible about how he’d behaved at the mixer. He gave his TA an awkward smile with a nod of acknowledgment.
“I think Professor Laurent just smiled at me.” Sarah waved limply at him. “I wonder if he’s unwell.”
“Don’t be too shocked. Professors are human, too,” Emma teased, then glanced at her mobile with a delicate frown between her brows. “I have another student who said she’d be here. Let’s give her five more minutes before we start.”
As if on cue, a young woman ran into the kitchen and skidded to a stop when all eyes turned to her. She made a little squeak and looked ready to run back out, but Emma said, “Jiyeon, you’re right on time. You’re in the front row here.”
Michel took the station next to the newest arrival. He tipped his head in silent greeting with a polite smile. The woman blushed to the roots of her hair and ducked her chin. He didn’t have time to wonder about her shyness because Emma clapped her hands for attention.
“Thank you for volunteering to be my guinea pigs tonight.” She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear with a nervous smile. But after a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, standing taller. “Several of you are already pros at making Korean royal court cuisine, so please help out the novices if they seem to be having trouble following my instructions.”
There’s my Emma. It was bittersweet watching her in her element as he imagined what her life would be like if she stayed in Los Angeles.
“All right, let’s get started.” She clasped her hands together. “The dish we’re cooking tonight is called sinseollo. There’s a fancy story about a mountain god behind the name of the dish, but it’s basically a Korean-style hotpot.”
Laughter filled the kitchen. Michel couldn’t take his eyes off Emma as she taught them to cook the various components of sinseollo with wit and patience. He was excited to learn how to make fish jeon, which was one of the ingredients for the hotpot. He could never forget the picnic she’d prepared for him at USC.
Emma made gungjung yori approachable and fun, but her cooking expertise was undeniable. She showed them how to make perfect rectangular slices of the various vegetables, her hands slow and steady as she demonstrated. But once she was certain everyone knew what to do, her knife seemed to fly over the rest of the ingredients, and they magically reappeared fully sliced and prepped.
She walked the kitchen to look in on her guests’ progress, guiding them through the steps. When she came to his station, Michel’s shoulders tensed. His stacks of vegetables—irregular and misshapen—looked nothing like hers. She put her hand on his shoulder, then let it slide down his back. He couldn’t hold back a shiver in response, forgetting his embarrassment over his disastrous cooking attempt.
“That’s impressive for your first time wielding a knife.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “But I’ve always known you were good with your hands.”
“If you enjoy my hands”—he turned his head slowly and met her eyes, her face only inches away—“then it might be a good idea for you to move on to your other guests before I chop off a finger. You’re very distracting.”
With a cheeky grin that made him want to slap her arse—and do a number of other things to her—she walked over to the station beside his.
“Jiyeon, that looks beautiful,” she said, beaming at the young woman.
“Are you sure?” She chewed on her lip.
“I’m positive.” Emma nodded for emphasis, then smiled mischievously. “Your mother was right. You do have the grace of a hippopotamus.”
Michel’s gaze snapped toward Emma so fast he must surely have gotten whiplash. Did he hear her correctly? How could she insult that poor girl in front of all these people? The whole kitchen had gone deathly quiet.
“Here.” Emma took out her mobile while Jiyeon watched with a bewildered frown. “Let me show you something.”
Within a few seconds, the young woman burst into tears and threw her arms around Emma. She returned Jiyeon’s hug, patting her back.
“What is it?” Sarah chimed in. “I want to see.”
“Of course you do.” Emma shook her head with obvious affection. “I’ll put it on the flat-screens.”
It was a video of a hippopotamus swimming, its movements supple and fluid underwater. It was hard to believe an animal that likely weighed over three tons could move like a mermaid in a fairy tale.
“Aww,” Marion fawned. “It’s so beautiful.”
“As you can see,” Emma said kindly to Jiyeon, “we should all be so lucky to have the grace of a hippopotamus.”
“You’re right.” The young woman sniffed and drew up to her full height, newfound confidence in her stance. “The next time my mom compares me to a hippo, I’ll just thank her.”
Michel swallowed thickly. Wherever she went, Emma lifted people up, always seeing the best in them. Not only did she own his heart, but it would be a profound honor for his country to have her as their queen. Choosing Emma to be his wife was not a selfish decision at all. It was the best decision he could make for himself and his country—the only decision, really.
“Let’s assemble the sinseollo.” Emma drew their attention back to the task at hand. “Traditionally, sinseollo is made in a special pot that kind of looks like a wide-brimmed hat, where you put hot coal in the center and cook the food in the sunken ‘brim.’ But for the sake of building laws and general safety, we’re going to assemble the casserole in a shallow saucepan.
“Alternating between each ingredient, we’re going to line the pan to kind of look like a giant daisy—a pretty, multicolored one. Once the pan is filled with all the yummy goodness, we’ll fill it to the rim with the beef broth and bring it to a boil on your stove. It only needs to cook for a few minutes before we move on to the best part of this party. Eating.
“I’d be happy to sample your masterpieces. And feel free to come up and taste mine to see if it’s different from yours.” Leaving her sinseollo to come to a boil, she came over to Michel and peeked at his dish. “Just look at that. Isn’t it amazing what you could do with a little jeongseong?”
“Jeongseong?” He pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her temple.
“It means putting your heart—your very best—into something.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you? It’s my life philosophy. Everything worthwhile and beautiful in life requires jeongseong.”
“I love that philosophy.” I love everything about you . The ring burned in his pocket. It wanted to be presented to its rightful owner this instant.
“Ooh, I think your sinseollo is ready. Can I try it?” She picked up a small bowl and a ladle before he could protest. She blew on the hot broth and took a careful bite. A dreamy smile spread across her face. “Oh, Michel. This is delicious. I could taste your jeongseong in it.”
“I had the best teacher to show me the way.” He took her spoon and sampled some himself. His eyebrows rose up to his hairline. “Bloody hell. This is good.”
Laughing with delight, Emma pecked him on the cheek and left to attend to her other guests. Spending time with her made him feel… weightless. She helped him stop walking the tightrope of duty and resentment, of gratitude and burden, and focus on just being . With her by his side, he felt whole—like he was enough, crown or no crown. She brightened everything she touched—including him.
Marion was family and he loved her. His cousin quickly warmed up to Emma, and she, his royal guard, and his girlfriend had made teasing him and Gabriel their favorite pastime for the last week. It was wonderful to see Emma getting along so well with the important people in his life. Even so, he’d been counting the days until his little cousin left tomorrow.
But he couldn’t wait another moment to propose to Emma. His heart might burst from the hope and fear churning inside him unless he spoke to her as soon as possible. He would task Gabriel and Sophie with keeping Marion occupied so he and Emma could have his suite to themselves.
One way or another, the rest of his life would be decided tonight.