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For the first time since being a part of my father’s academy, of participating in this grand culinary test, I’d lost. I should have been disappointed, more disappointed than what I actually felt.
But I couldn’t help but look at Layla with pride. Of all the elite students who thought they knew so much, who came to this school just for the prestige, I was happy to see Layla take it all.
She deserved it.
Damn, she was good.
Sucking in my cheeks, I turned to her and extended my hand. “Congratulations.”
She looked at me, surprised.
“No one will ever accuse me of being a sore loser,” I said.
“You came in second,” she said. Though she smiled, there was a tinge of bitterness in her voice. “That’s hardly losing.”
How dignified of her. No surprise there. For a girl from the country, she had more refinement in her little finger than many people had in their entire body.
I looked at her for a long moment, her hand still in mine. I wanted to pull her into my arms and whisper in her ear just how proud of her I was. I wanted to kiss her and suggest that we celebrate her win together.
But her smile faded, and her lips tensed up. She was being as diplomatic as she could under the circumstances, surely not wanting to appear standoffish in front of everyone. As the seconds wore on, however, I could see her anger at me bubbling up.
She pulled her hand out of mine and turned to Terry and the judges who’d come to congratulate her. A local reporter also came up to see her.
“Ewan Palmer from Landau Press,” he said. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“No, of course not,” she said with a brilliant smile. “Ask away.”
“You’re the first student to beat out Axel King,” he said. “How does that make you feel?”
“Elated,” she said. “Surprised. While I had full confidence in my ability to cook a perfect meal, the past wins by my competitor here made me wonder if winning was at all possible.”
“What do you think gave you the edge?”
“Determination. The will to win. I’ve worked very hard to get here. I’ve put a lot of time into perfecting my recipes. This isn’t a chance win. This is pure...” She looked at the reporter for a moment, looking for the right word. “Me,” she finally said. “This is pure me. My love of food. My devotion to my craft. My respect for each and every ingredient that goes into a meal.”
I watched her with growing awe. She was beautiful as she spoke, but she was also inspiring in the way she exposed her passion for the culinary arts. She would go far. I had no doubt.
“Some might say that you have a natural instinct,” Ewan said. “What do you say to them?”
Layla shrugged. “I guess at the heart of it, that’s true. Someone once noted how I never used a timer. I just seem to instinctively know how long it takes to make something and I am rarely wrong. I know how to plot out my time. How long to whisk something before it’s too much. How long to knead something before it’s too much. How long to bake something... Well, you get the picture.”
He smiled. “Killer instincts, indeed. Well, congratulations again.”
“Thank you.”
I smiled and she glanced at me and caught it. A slight crease came to her brow as she cocked her head slightly to the side.
“What are you up to?” she whispered through a clenched jaw as the crowd began to disperse.
“Nothing,” I said with a growing grin.
“Well, tell your lips because they seem to be having a party on their own,” she snapped.
You’re what we’ve been looking for, I wanted to say. You’re exactly what my father has been hoping to find in this culinary academy.
But I knew it was too soon. She wouldn’t understand it. She probably wouldn’t believe me.
No. I would have to wait to tell her of my father’s plans to find the next star chef that could be brought into the family enterprise... a star chef who could work with me and Kobe... and run the King empire.
