“Umm yes. He’s like the JK Rowling of kitchen design,” she answers with a little grin. “Just kidding, he’s bigger. He’s like the Pierce Davenport of kitchen design.”
“Ha! Nice save,” I say, feigning irritation. “Come on, let’s go see the best part,” I say, grabbing her by the hand and rushing her to the back.
We walk into the large, bright, stainless steel kitchen and I start the tour.
“First, you’ll notice three separate preparation areas have been installed to allow for temperature control and prevent cross-contamination because apparently certain raw foods don’t play well with each other. If you look up, you’ll see state of the art fire-suppressant systems in all the cooker hoods—well, I suppose you can’t see them really because they’re on the inside of those vents but I’m assured they’re there. Emergency shutoffs on each wall,” I say pointing to the red buttons scattered throughout the space. “All the services, including the ventilation, temperature, humidity, and even the four walk-in fridges, are controlled by a computer in the office back there, and the head chef can even access it from a mobile phone which I thought was pretty cool.”
“Thatiscool,” she says as I continue to pull her around the kitchen.
Turning to her, I stop and smile. “It’s fully staffed, runs like clockwork, and, best of all, is ready for you to put your stamp on it.”
Emma stares at me for a moment, her mouth open, but doesn’t say a word.
Shit. What is that look? Shock? Yes, she’s in shock. “I know, this is a lot to take in. You’ve been flying all night and I imagine the last thing you thought I’d do is say, ‘Here darling, I bought you a restaurant.’”
“You could say that,” she answers, turning a slow circle and staring at the large space.
“Do you like it? When I saw it, I immediately imagined you standing here,” I say, grinning as I quickly move to the grill area. “Or here,” I say, sliding to the food preparation area. “Plating meals, calling out orders, stirring sauces, making Carib-Asian food the most popular trend in all of the UK.”
“It’s amazing,” she says with a smile that fades all too quickly. “But I don’t understand. Youboughtthis for me?” she asks, her eyebrows knitting together.
“Yes. It’s all yours,” I answer, rushing over to her and wrapping my arms around her waist. “Every fork, every napkin, every bloody square inch of it.”
She stares at me. “So it was up for sale and you walked in and just said, ‘I’ll take it,’” she says, doing a pretty reasonable impression of me.
“Not quite. I did a little research to determine which restaurant was the best in the city, then I made them an offer they wouldn’t refuse.” God, that sounded impressive, no? I really am quite the romantic.
So, why isn’t she jumping into my arms, kissing me senseless whilst we peel off our clothes so we can break some health code violations?
This is probably one of those life surprises that is so overwhelmingly wonderful that you can’t react because it’s almost too much. Yes, that’s it. “I’ve shocked you. Sorry. I was just so excited for you to see it all that I thought we’d come straight here. I probably should have given you some type of hint or something.” Kissing her on the lips, I then say, “Butthisis where you belong, Emma.” Letting go of her, I place my hands on the counter-top. “Here, in this state-of-the-art kitchen so you can create whatever you like without having to answer to anyone, or serve irritating honeymooners or grumpy arrogant authors who don’t give a damn what they eat…or wait for your chance at greatness or…or ever have to wash another pot again.”
“But, I didn’t…this isn’t mine. I can’t justtakea restaurant from someone and pretend it belongs to me.” She shakes her head in a way that is more than a little concerning.
“Of course you can.” I lift my hands to her face and cup her cheeks. “You deserve this, Emma. I can’t let you waste your talents at Eden when you should be here getting the recognition that is rightfully yours.”
“It’s lovely, Pierce, really, truly lovely of you to do this,” she says lifting onto her tiptoes to give me a soft kiss. “You believe in me which is honestly the greatest feeling in the whole world, and as far as kitchens go, I couldn’t have dreamed up a better one.”
“But?” I ask because I can see in her eyes that a big ass ‘but’ is coming my way.
“I don’t deserve this, Pierce. I’ve done nothing to earn it.” She takes my hands from her face and backs up a couple of steps. “I don’t want to be given something because I’m good in bed. I want it because I’m a great chef.”
“I’m not giving you this because I like sleeping with you—which I do, by the way. I’m giving this to you because you’re a talented chef and I want to see you fulfil your potential.”
“But I didn’t earn this,” she says with a shaky sigh.
“I beg to differ. Without you, I’d have never finished the series. Yousavedme, Emma. You saved the entireClash of Crownsfranchise. My publisher, the entire cast and crew at NBO, all of us. Without you, my legacy would have been ruined,” I say taking both of her hands in mine. “Let me save you back.”
“Save me from what?”
“From a lonely, dreary existence on a deserted island. Save you from obscurity when you have so much to offer the world.”
“It’s notthatbad,” she answers. “It’s not great, but it’s where I’m supposed to be right now—paying my dues.”
“Skip the dues.” I give her a quick kiss. “Skip them. You don’t have to pay them anymore. You can start yourreal lifenow.Here,” I say.
“But I already have a life. I have a family that needs me and responsibilities and obligations,” she says, pacing a bit. “I can’t just up and leave. Not after everything my brother’s done for me.”
“I’ve already thought of that,” I say smoothly. “I’ll cut Harrison a cheque for your education and we’ll find someone who can slide into your place at the resort so he won’t have to do that himself. What about that friend of yours—the one you went to school with? I bet she’d take your old job in a heartbeat.”
