His Private Chef

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains. Warm, intrusive, and far too enthusiastic for how I felt. I stirred under the covers, my head foggy but my heart strangely full.

Yesterday felt like a dream.

Marcus Russo’s restaurant. That unforgettable meal. Mason. Was that even real?

I stretched lazily, a slow smile tugging at my lips. Reaching for my phone, I scrolled through messages, half expecting it all to disappear like some figment of my imagination.

But then, a new message flashed across my screen. Unknown number.

Mason: Hey Emily, hope you’re doing great this morning?

Would you be interested in grabbing lunch with me?

Nothing fancy, just a friendly hangout.

Do tell if you’re free.”

I blinked.

My heart did a quite little somersault. I pretended not to notice. I saved his number before my brain could debate it. It was just lunch. Nothing serious. No need to overthink it right?

Still, I hesitated. Fingers hovered above the screen.

Accept? Decline?

Before I could decide, my phone rang. Lisa.

I sighed and picked up. If I didn’t, she’d just keep calling.

“Hello?”

“Em!” Her voice burst through, loud and radiant. “ Give me the rundown on yesterday.”

I laughed, sitting upright. “Oh, it was amazing.”

“Spill. Everything. Who did you meet?”

“Slow down,” I teased. “I met Marcus Russo.”

Lisa shrieked. “Marcus freaking Russo?! No way!”

“It was surreal,” I admitted. “I had the best meal of my life in his restaurant”

“Wait a second.” Her voice dropped, low and sharp “Who took you there?”

“Jay. Liam was there as well,” I said, leaning against my pillows. “He was his usual self, annoying and rude.”

“Ugh, men,” she huffed. “Ignore him. You’re living a dream. Focus on that.”

“I don’t know what his problem is with me,” I groaned. “From the moment he saw me he has been on attack mode. He’s got this weird way of acting, it’s like I personally offended him.”

I paused, chewing my bottom lip.

“I met Mason Jacobs at the studio.” I said in a rush. “He texted now, asking if I was free to hangout. I don't know if I should.”

Dead silence.

“You WHAT?! Emily!,” she screamed. “You’re officially the queen of casual encounters.”

“I don’t want to seem like some overexcited fangirl,” I said, my voice low and uncertain.

“Then don’t. Be yourself. You’re amazing. And he texted you, remember?”

I sighed, her words were starting to plant a seed. “ I’ll think about it.”

“You better. Call me after, I want the full tea. I'll be living vicariously through you.”

Laughing, I ended the call and stared at Mason’s message again. It didn’t seem like a big deal.

Just lunch.

Before I could change my mind, I typed:

Me: Good morning. Lunch sounds perfect. Where are we going?

His reply was instant. Like he was waiting for my message.

Mason: One of my favorite places. Quiet, cozy, exclusive. You’ll love it. I’ll pick you up at 12?

Me: Alright, see you soon.

I texted him my address and jumped out of bed, fully awake.

I decided to keep things casual. I slipped into a fitted beige T-shirt paired with high-waist denim jeans and a crips white sneaker. Just a swipe of red lipstick for confidence. My hair pulled into a messy bun, and I was ready.

At exactly noon, Mason pulled up in a sleek black Mercedes. He stepped out, looking effortlessly stylish in a white shirt and dark jeans. Sunglasses. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it on the way over. The faint scent of wood and cedar lingered in the air as he leaned in for a casual side hug.

"Emily," he said warmly. "You look stunning."

"Thank you. You look good, like always," I said, sliding into the passenger seat.

“You drive yourself,?” I asked, genuinely surprised. People with his level of fame and fortune rarely got behind the wheel.

He grinned. “Yeah, sometimes. It helps me clear my head.

The drive was smooth, filled with soft music and light conversation. He was funny and surprisingly easy to talk to. For a minute, I forgot how famous he was.

The restaurant was a beautiful blend of vintage and modern elegance. Marble floors and warm lighting. The walls were decorated with black and white photos in sleek dark wood frames.

Mason led me to a corner table beside the window, offering a quite view of the street outside. The host greeted him with familiarity.

"You really like it here, don't you?" I teased.

He grinned. "Guilty."

I ordered for grilled chicken sandwich. He went with steak and roasted veggies. A bottle of wine and sparkling water for us.

"So," I said, between sips of water. "Tell me a secret”

He cocked his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "I hate horror movies."

I burst out laughing. "Seriously? The super star is afraid of the dark and ghosts? I feel like I should update your fans of this new discovery"

"Hey," he chuckled, "I said hate. I didn't say afraid. Huge difference.”

I was about to respond when something shifted in the air. I can feel someone’s gaze.

Mason gaze flickered over my shoulder. "Why is Liam Black looking at you like that?"

My stomach flipped.

"What”

He leaned back casually, taking a sip from the glass of water.

"Over your right shoulder. Two tables down. Dark gray suit. Brooding, like you just ran over his dog."

I turned, slow and subtle.

There he was.

Liam Black.

Sitting across from a man in an expensive black suit. His jaw clenched, fingers wrapped around an untouched drink. His eyes locked on mine, sharp and unwavering.

My throat tightened. What was he doing here? Of all places he had to be here.

He raised a brow. "Friend of yours?"

"Boss," I said quietly, turning back to face Mason. "Technically."

"Interesting," he said, swirling his drink. "There's a possesive edge to his expression. He looks territorial."

"He’s not," I replied too quickly.

He smirked. "Emily, I know that look. He is either deeply confused or deeply annoyed. Possibly both."

I didn’t respond. My heart was beating erratically. Why did it feel like I’d been caught doing something wrong?

"Ignore him," he said with an easy grin. "I’m the one lucky enough to be in the company of a stunning lady.”

I managed a laugh. But my palms had gone sweaty, and suddenly, the food lost its flavor. I could still feel the weight of Liam's gaze lingering on me.

Mason sensed the tension and shifted the mood effortlessly. He told a story about an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a live performance in Canada. I laughed, genuinely this time.

But when I dared to glance again, he was still watching.

What was that look?

Irritation? Disapproval?

Why did it matter so much?

When the check arrived, Mason paid without hesitation, then stood and offered me his hand.

"Shall we?"

As we walked past Liam’s table, I caught the flicker of movement. He stood up abruptly, startling his companion. He said something too low to hear.

"Emily."

His voice. Low and controlled.

Mason stopped beside me.

Liam took a single step forward. "A word, please."

I nodded, unsure of what else to do.

“Can you come over tomorrow? I need tospeak to you.”

“Okay,” I said, confused.

He gave a curt tilt of his head and turned back toward his table. He slipped into his seat with the same composed elegance, as if nothing had happened.

I stood there for a moment, blinking.

That was it?

Confusion swirled in my chest. What could possibly be so urgent that it couldn't wait.

Why pull me aside in the middle of lunch?

I glanced back at him. He was already engaged in light conversation.

I hated that he could unravel me like this

Back in the car, I didn’t speak. I kept glancing at the restaurant behind us, heart unsettled.

I was now stuck wondering what Liam Black wanted.