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The billionaire's cook

"How dare you splash that filthy, muddy water on me?" Flower's voice rang out angrily as she confronted Charles. Stepping out of his sleek car, Charles casually tucked his hands into his pockets, his eyes scanning Flower from head to toe. "It suits you," he finally muttered, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "What? You shameless, senseless jerk! If stupidity could fly, you'd be a private jet. Total scumbag," Flower retorted passionately, her frustration boiling over. And then, without hesitation, she swiftly delivered a sharp kick to his unmentionables. Charles groaned in pain, but fate had more in store for him. Flower's fury propelled her to give him an unexpected yet forceful push, sending him tumbling into the muddy water below. A burst of hearty laughter erupted from Flower as she swiftly turned on her heels, making a quick getaway from the scene. ... Flower Cunningham had always dreamt of becoming a renowned chef and owning one of the trendiest restaurants in Las Vegas, USA. With her exceptional culinary skills and the ability to lure anyone in with the tantalizing aromas of her food, Flower thrived in the fast-paced world of gastronomy. She dedicated her life to perfecting her craft while balancing the responsibilities of caring for her disabled father, loving mother, and her supportive siblings. On the other hand, we have Charles Hamilton, the epitome of wealth and popularity, not just in the USA but across the globe. As the enigmatic and elusive billionaire, Charles was the face behind Hamilton's Group—the behemoth conglomerate with numerous divisions worldwide. His mysterious demeanor often left his employees puzzled, trying to decipher his ever-changing moods. When Flower and Charles first crossed paths, it was nothing short of chaotic. It became an unforgettable moment that would shape their lives forever. As fate would have it, Flower was soon employed as Charles's personal chef, marking the beginning of a thrilling game.

Rejoice_Diamond · Urban
Zu wenig Bewertungen
48 Chs

You're fired

"Flower," Rissa exclaimed into the phone as soon as Marissa picked up the call. Marissa had to move the phone away from her ear and placed it back after a moment.

"Gosh, Flower. Do you want to burst my eardrum?" Marissa asked.

"I'm sorry, Rissa, but seriously, what happened today deserved some shouting," Flower remarked.

"You're crazy, Flower. So, what happened today?" Marissa inquired.

"Guess who my boss is," Flower retorted.

"Flower, how am I supposed to know who he is when I have never seen him before?" Marissa asked her enthusiastic friend.

"Let me save you the stress then. Can you believe that the man who splashed muddy water on me earlier today was my boss?" Flower rasped.

"Oh my, did you get the job? Where are you now, Flower? Are you at home?" Marrissa bombarded with questions, all at once.

"Chill, Rissa. I got the job, and I am currently at his mansion," Flower replied, trying to reign in her excitement.

"How is that possible? Didn't he remember you?" Marissa questioned, genuinely puzzled.

"Of course, he did," Flower replied.

"Then how on earth did you get the job?" Marissa asked, still trying to process the situation.

"Let's just say he liked my food," Flower boasted, unable to hide her delight.

"Wow, that's incredible! But Flower, you need to keep your ego in check so that you can continue working there," Marissa advised with a note of caution.

"I'll try, but I can't help but plan my revenge on him," Flower smirked mischievously.

"Flower," Marissa gasped from the other end, caught off guard by Flower's determination for retaliation.

...

Louis sat in an armchair, a glass of wine before him, completely lost in thought. Charles had always seemed to take away everything that was rightfully his, starting from their childhood. Charles was their father's favorite son.

Flashback

Benjamin, their father, walked into the house. Fifteen -year - old Louis and twelve -year - old Charles rushed toward him, full of excitement, ready to embrace their loving father.

"Papa!" Charles exclaimed with joy.

Benjamin only patted Louis on the head before scooping Charles into his arms.

"Papa has something for you. Come and see," Benjamin said, heading towards his room, Charles still in his embrace, leaving Louis behind.

Louis sighed sadly, feeling left out. He walked over to the couch, slumped down, and buried his face in his knees, sobbing quietly.

A few minutes later, a hand gently tapped him on the shoulder. Louis looked up to see Charles holding out his favorite cotton candy.

He glared at Charles with a mix of resentment and frustration. "Why do you always get Papa's attention? It's not like you're the only child. I am his son too," Louis vented out his feelings, letting his pent-up emotions spill out.

Charles looked down, his expression filled with sadness. "I'm sorry," he muttered quietly.

End of flashback.

Louis sniffed, taking a sip of his wine to soothe his troubled mind. As they grew older, Benjamin had entrusted a larger share of his company to Charles, claiming it was because of his responsibility. However, Charles had managed to seize the smaller portion that was initially allocated to Louis. Through his hard work, Charles had transformed the small portion into a thriving conglomerate.

All Louis ever desired was what Charles had effortlessly gained, and he was determined to claim it for himself.

...

Marissa was frantically attempting to flag down a taxi. She was running late for work and needed to get there as quickly as possible.

"Gosh, I'm so late. Thanks to Flower," she exclaimed. The phone call with Flower the previous night had caused her to stay up late and oversleep.

Suddenly, a car came to a stop in front of her. The driver rolled down their window, and Marissa was taken aback when she saw who it was. It was Erickson.

"I see you're running late for work. Hop in, and I'll give you a ride," he offered.

Marissa felt her heart pound in her chest. Her crush was inviting her into his car. How could she possibly refuse?

"Thanks, Eri... I mean, sir," she stuttered, looking down shyly.

"It's no problem at all," he replied simply, opening the front door of the car for her. Nervously, she climbed inside and closed the car door behind her.

"Fasten your seatbelt," he instructed. Marissa tried to do it herself, but she struggled.

"Allow me to help," he murmured, moving closer to her. The pleasant scent of flowers wafted towards her nostrils.

Gently, Erickson reached over and assisted Marissa in fastening her seatbelt. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, making her cheeks flush with a rosy hue.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through her veins.

Erickson settled into the driver's seat, his eyes briefly glancing at Marissa before focusing on the road ahead. The car engine hummed softly as they started moving, the unfamiliar silence filling the air.

"What's your name" Erickson asked.

"Marrissa" she answered shortly. She was nervous as hell.

"Mari" Erickson shortened her name.

Marrissa couldn't help but smile as a blush crept up her face.

...

Flower groggily opened her eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. She glanced at the wall clock and gasped at the time. It was already 8:30 am. In a hurry, she jumped out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. After quickly brushing her teeth and taking a fast shower, she changed into a black sleeveless dress. It was exactly 9:00 am when she finally emerged from her room, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety.

To her surprise, she found Charles sitting at the dining table, sipping his coffee.

"I see. The owner of the house is finally awake," he remarked sarcastically.

Flower's heart skipped a beat. She knew she had broken one of the rules by waking up late. Fearful of losing her job, she knew she had to plead her case.

"Please, sir, it won't happen again. It was a complete oversight," she pleaded, hoping for mercy

Charles let out a small chuckle staring at her pathetic figure. His eyes soon darkened.

" You're fired" he simply stated and resumed drinking his coffee