There's a Prince in the Kitchen 4
Hey Everyone! This is a new short story I wrote. It is complete however I will be posting a chapter every week and not the whole story in its entirety. Please send your comments to jewelofthewestmeadow@gmail.com. You can find another one of my stories, Ark Noah, in the sci-fi fantasy section.
Thanks
Wesley Jade
People please donate to the Nifty site, as it is a wonderful platform for us budding amateur and professional writers to showcase our work.
Disclaimer:
The following works are copyrighted by the author. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the author. All characters are entirely fictional and any resemblance to living persons is coincidental. This story will contain scenes of explicit or erotic sex between men. If this is illegal in your country or state, or offends you, please leave now.
There's a Prince in the Kitchen
Chapter 4
THERE were ants in my pants. Butterflies in my stomach. A buzzing in my head. Everything you could contract after over-thinking something simple. Like an appointment.
I was so worked up over tonight that I didn't know what to do. It was absolutely foolish. The date with Carl was nowhere near as bad as what I was feeling now.
I sat on my bed in my underwear and looked at the mess around me. Clothes were strewn everywhere in an attempt to find something to wear, and I was getting nowhere.
There was a short knock on the door and Sarah burst in followed by Dean Mason before I could get any pants on. Dean's eyes widened when he saw me, and I hurried to put some clothes on.
"God look at this place! Lu have you been going ape again?"
"Fuck you. And wait till I say it's okay to come in before you burst in! Hello Dean," I added. I got a shy smile out of him.
"What are you doing here?"
"I am here to kick your ass into high gear. You've been up here for ages. And you still can't even manage to pick out something to wear."
"So? I don't want to go anymore."
"The hell you won't! Go ahead Dean, pick something out for him. Something cool. Casual yet sophisticated enough for a business date."
"It's not a date."
"Shut up," Sarah retorted.
I huffed and glared at Sarah while Dean shyly perused through my strewn clothing.
"I brought Dean along for just this sort of thing. The youth these days know what's hip and happening."
"You must have been born in the dark ages," I muttered.
Sarah snorted in disgust. At twenty-five she looked more like a sixteen year old.
"I dug up some info on our Mr Romero," Sarah said.
"When did he become our Mr Romero?"
"Since he took interest in our Lucio De Luca."
"Hah! He has a daughter and he's probably married."
Sarah made a buzzer sound. "Wrong! He's never been married. Rumor has it his daughter is the result of a tryst with one of his former girlfriends who left the baby with him and disappeared."
"Rumors Sarah? Since when do you pay attention to that rubbish?"
Sarah dismissed me with a wave of her hand. "Bah! I was only mentioning it. Before he started Rosemary Publishing he used to be an editor for Random House. How's it going there Dean, find something good?" she asked.
That dear in the headlights look appeared and he mumbled softly. "Um, uh, yeah, I found something." He handed me a pair of black skinny fit slacks and an emerald green satin shirt. "The green will make your eyes pop. They're beautiful so you should bring them out more."
Dean realized what he had just said. He blushed beet red as his floppy platinum blond hair fell and covered his eyes. I couldn't help chuckling.
"Thank you Dean. Anything else?"
"Um, wear that with those boots." He pointed to my calf length gray boots lying in the corner of the bedroom. "And leave your hair like that. That's all." He quickly left, closing the door quietly.
"But I haven't combed my hair yet."
"Exactly. You have that sexy mussed look going."
"Oh." I patted my head, hoping they weren't pulling the wool over my eyes. "You know, there's something about him."
"Yeah," Sarah agreed. "And I guess we know part of the problem now."
Dean was probably going through the same things I went through at his age.
"That's why I offered him a job here."
"Oh?"
"I think there's something going on at home, but I don't know what. I was hoping you could help him."
"And how exactly would I do that? I'm having problems of my own."
Sarah looked at me, her face tensing. "Are you still having nightmares?"
I nodded, "Every night for the past three months."
"Oh Lu, why didn't you tell me it was that bad?"
Turning away from Sarah, I began to get dressed, stripping the track pants and t-shirt and donning the slacks and shirt. "I didn't want you to worry. I can handle it. Been handling it for eight years now."
She sighed. "You know that talking helps. And if you don't want to talk, we can just hang out."
"Yeah, thanks."
AT five minutes to seven I made my way downstairs and into the restaurant. It was already filled with evening diners. Families, friends, couples and loners sitting down to good food after a long day.
Arriving at the front entrance, I was pleasantly surprised to find Julian already waiting.
"Hi, Lucio," he greeted, taking my hand in his, much like that day in the kitchen and wrapping it in the warmth of his own. It felt good surrounding mine.
"Hello Julian. Were you waiting long?"
"Not at all. Are you ready to leave?"
I nodded and he led me out. The evening was warm and twilit, a sea breeze from the south east brought a bit of the ocean chill. A perfect night for a date, uh, appointment. Julian led me to his sleek silver convertible and helped me in. The perfect gentlemen. I scowled, feeling so much like a girl going on her first date.
Julian got in on the driver's side and started the car. "We'll be dining at Madame's."
"Oh? That's quite ritzy."
"Um-hmm," he agreed.
And it was. While my place catered to comfort and a relaxed setting with wholesome, good food, Madame's catered to the upper class, with subtle sophistication that wasn't stuffy, and French haute cuisine. The food was excellent, and the service impeccable. It was also on the other side of town, which didn't impede on my business much. Though there was no real competition between us. People who wanted comfort and relaxation came to Lucio's, and if they felt like something glamorous another night, Madame's was there, and vice-versa.
We arrived at the restaurant and went inside.
"Reservation for Romero," Julian told the maître d' at the entrance.
"Of course, right this way," she confirmed after a quick check in the reservation list.
She led us into the ambient lit dining room decorated in rich browns and baby blues with crystal accenting and lighting; and seated us at a fairly secluded table. After handing us our menus, she left us to peruse them.
"Would you like to order first, before we talk?" Julian asked me over the top of his menu.
"Sure. But why don't you order for the both of us? I don't feel like anything in particular."
"Okay." Julian smiled and signaled the waiter. The waiter jotted down our order and removed the menus when he left.
"So, uh, thank you for coming. I realize every day is busy for you."
Was it just me, or did Julian Romero look a little nervous? His hands wouldn't remain still.
"It's okay, Sarah can handle the place quite capably."
"Right. Well, about the book...." Julian explained what he wanted, and I found myself intrigued.
The idea was for me to choose thirty of my best recipes: ten light meals; ten heavy meals; and ten desserts. I would write up a simple way to prepare those dishes along with my own thoughts on it. Why I chose to do this dish. My inspiration for it.
"And over a couple of weeks we'll get our photographer to take pictures of your dishes during your free time."
It sounded really good, and honestly, I'd be the world's biggest idiot if I turned this down.
"So what do you think?" Julian shifted in his seat, sipping his wine.
"This seems too good to be true," I murmured.
"It's all legit; I promise you."
I had one question for him: "Why you?"
"I don't understand," he frowned.
I played with my glass on the table. "Why are you doing this? Why not send one of your people?"
"Ah," he grinned devilishly. Was I going to like his answer?
"There are two reasons," he continued. "Firstly I consider it punishment for treating you disrespectfully."
Well the incident was probably only minor. He didn't have to exaggerate it.
"Anya gave me an earful after we left," he chortled, rich and deep.
Yes, I could imagine Anya doing that sort of thing, and I could only guess where she got her stubborn streak from.
"The second reason is a bit more personal."
Even more personal than the first?
"I find myself thinking about you all the time."
Oh boy. I could practically hear Sarah's mocking voice say I told you so.
"When I saw you for the first time I thought I needed to apologize to Anya for not believing her in the first place."
Luckily I didn't have anything in my mouth; I would have spat it out.
"Julian," I began, but he stopped me.
"Hear me out.... I know it's presumptuous of me, but I only wanted to see more of you."
The arrival of our food granted me a few moments to compose my thoughts. Is he saying what I think he's saying? Did he like me...that way? There were quite a few emotions rolling though me. Happiness, anxiety, fear. Was I ready for a relationship? Not with trouble I was going through now.
"Julian," I said after the waiter left. "I'm not in a place right now where I can get involved with someone."
"Lucio, you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life, and yes, I'm hoping for more from you. But what I'm asking is if you'll get to know me; to start simpler. I won't complicate things for you."
God this man was pushing the right buttons. Ones I thought I never even had. A part of me wanted to accept it and feel his lips on mine. How would that feel?
The other part was scared. This man had means and power, he could hurt me in a way that would shatter me. I was already emotionally involved, thinking about him all the time.
"You are an idiot!" Sarah's voice proclaimed in my head. Great, now I'm hearing her voice.
"Lucio," Julian called, taking my hand in his. "I'm saying let's date. See where things go. Come over to my place next week Sunday. You'll have a late lunch with me and Anya."
"Okay," I breathed out. I had to move forward.
Thanks for reading!