Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Oliver’s voice rang out again, rich and commanding, pulling Clemmie’s attention back to him.
‘In about an hour, there will be a press conference in the royal dining salon, a chance for the media to meet you all. They’ll want to hear about your inspirations, your aspirations and your story – what brought you here.
This is an opportunity for each of you to make an impression, not just as contestants but as the culinary stars you’re aspiring to be.
So, use this time wisely to gather your thoughts and, of course, enjoy the tour of the Royal Yacht.
’ His words carried a note of encouragement, but also a challenge, as if daring them to seize the moment and shine.
Clemmie’s heart sank a little at the mention of the press.
Public speaking was not her strength, and the thought of being scrutinised by strangers with cameras and questions in front of the other contestants made her nervous.
Puffin Island and her café were her heart, her soul, but how did she articulate that in a way that wouldn’t sound small or provincial compared to the grand ambitions of the others?
Clemmie trailed behind the group of competitors as their guide, a sharply dressed man with a clipboard and an air of quiet authority, led them along the gleaming main deck.
Everything about the Royal Yacht radiated luxury, from the velvet ropes cordoning off restricted areas to the polished brass fittings and the discreet staff who moved gracefully in tailored uniforms. The afternoon sun spilled through the tall windows, casting golden light across the plush carpeting, and Clemmie found herself both captivated and feeling slightly out of place amidst the opulence.
‘Everyone keep close, please,’ the guide called, his tone crisp as he waved his clipboard for emphasis.
The film crew followed the tour, filming the competitors as they went from room to room.
They first passed through the main salon, a sweeping room with velvet cushions, polished wood floors and rich golden curtains framing the windows and their views of the ocean.
The chandeliers overhead sparkled like stars, their soft light casting a glow over the room.
The guide pointed out the Royal Family’s favourite seating areas, and Clemmie could imagine them lounging there, the quiet rhythm of the sea as their soundtrack.
As they moved on, the dining room loomed ahead, a long table dressed in pristine linen, set with fine china and silverware that gleamed under the soft lighting.
The yacht’s history hung in the air, and Clemmie was captivated, but it was Oliver, walking just behind her, that kept drawing her attention.
Every few moments, she could feel his gaze on her, making her pulse quicken, aware of the subtle tension that crackled between them both.
When they entered the ballroom, Clemmie couldn’t stop stealing sidelong glances at him, noticing the way his eyes seemed to linger on her as well, the weight of his stare both thrilling and unnerving.
As they went through to the next room, the guide announced the tour was complete and they had forty-five minutes until the press conference.
As Clemmie went to walk over to the trestle table set out with tea and coffee Oliver quickly grabbed her hand.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Let’s go and take a proper break and pretend we’re royalty for half an hour, before someone misses us.
’ He led her away from the group and they slipped down the corridor into another room.
Clemmie laughed softly, her nerves easing as she took in the opulent surroundings.
The room was smaller than the grand hallways they had just left but no less stunning.
Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and an intricately carved table stood in the centre, set with crystal glasses and fine china as though awaiting a feast.
‘Royalty, huh?’ she teased, arching an eyebrow. ‘You’ve really leaned into the whole “man of grandeur” thing, haven’t you?’
He stepped closer, his eyes skimming her from head to toe before lingering on her dress. A flicker of something unspoken passed between them, and his voice dropped. ‘That dress, Clemmie. It’s not fair. You know it brings back way too many memories.’
The way he looked at her, intense, playful, and entirely too knowing, made her heart stutter. ‘That week in London is burned into my brain. And seeing you in this now…’ He shook his head, the grin turning softer, almost nostalgic. ‘Let’s just say it’s a good thing we’re not by ourselves.’
‘But we are,’ she countered, though her voice betrayed her with its slight tremor.
Her eyes didn’t leave his, knowing something deeper was bubbling to the surface.
For a moment, the world seemed to shrink, the magnificence of the room fading into the background as the space between them narrowed. His hand still lingered lightly on her arm, and she was acutely aware of his touch, the way it sent a ripple of something electric through her.
‘I should probably get back to the group,’ she said softly, though her feet remained rooted to the spot.
‘Probably,’ he murmured, his voice low and filled with suggestion.
For a moment, it felt like they were back in London, where time had seemed to stretch and compress at the same time around them, where every stolen glance and brush of hands had felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Clemmie knew she should pull away and rejoin the others, but with Oliver’s gaze holding hers she couldn’t bring herself to break the spell.
‘I’ve been thinking about you,’ Oliver said, his voice softening, his usual confidence giving way to something raw and unguarded. It was a rare vulnerability that stopped Clemmie in her tracks, her pulse quickening. ‘The other morning in the kitchen—’
‘We can’t go back to where we were. We’ve had our chance,’ Clemmie interrupted, though the words felt like a betrayal of her own heart.
Why had she said that out loud? Because if she were honest with herself, she wanted nothing more than to go back, if not to London three years ago, then at least to yesterday morning, to see what would have happened if Betty hadn’t interrupted them.
Oliver tilted his head, studying her as though trying to decipher the truth behind her words.
‘But we almost…’ he said quietly, stepping closer, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her stomach flip.
‘And it took me right back to my apartment in London. That week with you … it was the best week of my life. It felt…’ He hesitated, his voice full of emotion.
‘It felt right. I’ve not had those feelings since. ’
Clemmie’s heart raced faster at his confession, her heart warring with her head.
‘It’s just going to complicate things,’ she said, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound resolute.
‘I let my heart overrule my head. Anyway, this isn’t the place to have this conversation.
’ She glanced around, hoping the surroundings of the yacht would remind her of where she was and why she needed to stay grounded.
‘But I want this conversation. I can’t think about anything else.’
‘What is there to say? You made your choice.’
‘I chose you, Clemmie. I asked you to come with me, I practically begged you,’ said Oliver, his voice laced with frustration.
Clemmie tried to ignore the knot forming in her chest.
‘I remember,’ she said quietly, her mind flashing back to that night in London.
Oliver’s gaze softened, but there was an edge to his words now.
‘You didn’t want it then. You didn’t want any part of it.
I get it, I do. But damn, Clemmie, I needed you.
I wanted you to travel the world with me, be there with me …
to share everything with me. My life, my passion.
You know how much I love my work. You knew that from the start. ’
Clemmie met his eyes, feeling the weight of his words.
‘I couldn’t leave. I belong here on Puffin Island, with my business, my granny.
I wanted to share all that with you but it was never going to be enough for you,’ she murmured.
‘How could it, when you were so used to jetting off around the world every other week?’
Oliver looked away for a moment, gathering his thoughts.
‘I wasn’t trying to take you away from your world, Clemmie.
I just wanted to share something that I loved with someone I cared about.
I wouldn’t have wanted you to give up your whole life.
We could have at least had a conversation.
Found a middle ground that satisfied us both.
’ He let out a deep breath, frustration giving way to something more vulnerable.
‘I thought … I thought if I asked, if I showed you how much it meant to me, that you’d see I wanted to make it work. I guess I was wrong.’
Clemmie’s heart skipped a beat, the tenderness in his voice pulling at her in ways she hadn’t expected. ‘Oliver, you weren’t wrong. I just…’ She paused, unsure how to finish. ‘I have my dreams too, and they’re so far removed from yours.’
‘I know, I get that now,’ he interrupted, but there was no anger in his tone.
‘My job is a part of me. I love travel and I want to see what makes the world go around, but… It’s never been just about the food or the stories or the travel.
It’s about connection. About bringing the best parts of life together and sharing it with people you care about and I wanted to do that with you. ’
Clemmie swallowed a lump in her throat. She had always known he loved his work, but hearing it from him now, seeing the emotion behind his words, made it feel different – real in a way it hadn’t before. ‘I didn’t know you felt like that,’ she admitted softly.