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Oh, my little princess. I have so much planned for us.
Chapter Nineteen
Charlize
I wrap myself in the fluffy, white robe and tie the belt. I check my phone and groan when I see it’s almost ten. I’ve only got an hour to get ready and get to the office to meet Alistair.
A delicious smell has me wandering from the bedroom to the kitchen where I find a big, beer-bellied man in a chef’s uniform — including the hat — humming along to classical music playing in the background.
“Um, hello?” I say, feeling a little awkward as I linger.
He turns to look at me, a big smile on his rosy cheeks. “Well, hello there. You must be Alistair’s friend.”
Oh dear God, what has he said about me?
I nod like a dummy. “I’m Charlize.”
He wipes his hands on the front of his apron and holds his hand out to shake mine. “I’m Dominic, but you can call me Dom.”
“Wow so Alistair really does have a personal chef? I thought he was just blowing his own horn.”
Dom looks at me startled, then lets out a big belly laugh. “Oh, I like you, Charlize. I can tell we’re going to get along famously.”
Pity I’m only here for today. “What’s that delicious smell?” I walk toward the kettle and flick it on.
“That, my dear, is my world famous cottage pie.”
“Why is it famous?”
He stops in his tracks. “Because I made it for the Queen and she loved it.”
My eyes go round. “Wow, you did?”
“At Buckingham Palace one time. I cooked for the entire Royal Family. It was the highlight of my career.”
“So now you work for Alistair?”
“Between us, Mr. Devereaux pays better.” He gives me a wink and I laugh. “Now, young lady. What can I get you to eat? I made Mr. Devereaux a Spanish omelette this morning, but I can do anything you want. I have eggs, smoked salmon, trout…”
“Oh God, trout? Do people really eat that for breakfast?”
“Not as much as they eat mackerel.”
“Holy cow. Rich people are so weird.”
He chuckles. “Yes, they are. And I can tell you; the richer they are, the weirder it gets.”
I smile. “An omelette sounds great, thanks Dom.” I’m not used to anyone making my food. He seems delighted to feed me though.
I set about making myself a cup of tea as he moves around the kitchen with ease.
“So, you’ve been doing this a while, then?”
“Since I was fourteen.”
“Holy shit.”
He shrugs. “My grandma taught me how to cook. We didn’t have much, so I got really good at finding creative ways to use potatoes for example because they were cheap.”
