I pulled out the evening gown I had purchased for the event. I put it on and looked confidently at my reflection in the mirror. The midnight blue gown had a lovely off-the-shoulder neckline, flattering tight silhouette, and tasteful lines of blue velvet strategically placed at my waist to enhance my figure. I absolutely loved it and thought it was the perfect choice for a black-tie work event. I pulled my hair into an elegant bun to show off a bit of exposed skin and was ready to go.

 

The woman who hired me for the fundraising event sent a car to pick me up. “It’s a bit out of the city and it’s important you arrive on time,” the woman had said. I knew it was to take place in a lavish mansion, but I had no idea what to expect. I had seen plenty of large, elegant houses, but when the gates opened for the car my breath was taken away. I had never seen anything like this, at least not in anything other than in movies.  

 

“Oh my gosh,” I whispered with an overwhelming urge to open my window and look out. I clenched my hands over my knees and stared out the tinted windows, the ball of nerves in my stomach growing.

 

The car slowed to drive around a roundabout, at the center of which was a beautiful statue of a woman holding a large jar. The car pulled up the driveway to park parallel to the mansion’s main entrance, a gorgeous set of wooden double doors behind a brick arch at the top of brick steps set in a semi-circle. It had the look of a European Country Estate with even more grandeur than my father’s house. I did my best to look cool and collected despite the fact that I was a complete ball of nerves at that point. At the front door stood two men who, after asking my name, pulled them open for me.

 

I stepped inside to see a large, white arch separating the entrance hall and leading into what I assumed was the main living or sitting room. Only it had been set up as an elegant banquet hall. I looked to the right to see what would have been the formal dining room before looking around to find someone who would point me in the right direction. The place was completely empty so I gathered up my courage and turned to walk into the formal dining room, in which was only the dining table set out with plenty of hors d'oeuvres.

 

At the other end of the dining room I saw the archway to the kitchen so I walked into it thinking that was where I needed to be. As soon as I stepped inside I saw plenty of cooked food in warming plates. I was beyond confused. I had been hired to be the chef yet there was nothing for me to actually make. I panicked; had I messed up the details? Had they decided to go with someone else and never told me?

 

“You must be Ms. Page, the chef,” a familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.

 

I whipped my head around at once to see an older woman standing in the archway separating the kitchen from the dining room. She had a short, grey hair bob and wore a lovely evening gown that suited her well. I noticed she wore a golden pin emblazoned with the Harold Archer Foundation’s logo.

 

“Good evening, I am Evelyn Page. You must be Mrs. Montgomery.”

 

The two of us politely shook hands before Mrs. Montgomery said, “As you can see, my dear, essentially all the cooking has been taken care of. The Archers would like you to stand in the formal dining room to begin. There are plenty of delicacies and they’d like you to be the knowledgeable chef in case any of the guests have questions.”

 

“So I won’t be cooking at all?”

 

“The Archers would be delighted if you whipped up one or two quick hors d'oeuvres. They’ve left all the details of what is being served tonight for you as well. I suggest you study up and then get to work on those hors d'oeuvres before guests arrive!”

 

Mrs. Montgomery escorted me over to where the details were typed out and gave me a quick tour of the kitchen before bustling out to attend to other hired staff for the evening. I sighed and took a seat on one of the stools lining the kitchen’s bar counter, reading over everything being served. Most of it I was familiar with and anything that had a unique twist was easy enough to remember.

 

I walked over to the refrigerator and pulled it open to see it was fully stocked. Even at a glance I could tell it would have everything necessary to make one or two delicious hors d'oeuvres, unless I was feeling particularly ambitious to prepare something obscure. I decided to keep it relatively simple with spicy stuffed mushrooms– aside from my lobster macaroni and cheese, that appetizer was one of my famed dishes.

 

I quickly got to work after donning a coverall white apron hanging on a hook in the walk-in pantry. I wanted to look through everything in the pantry, but not enough to risk running out of time. By the time I had plated the spicy stuffed mushrooms, perfected the presentation, and set the serving dish out on the hors d'oeuvres table only a few minutes were left before guests were set to arrive. I walked out to the living area turned banquet hall for the night, admiring the rounded wooden beams of the ceiling before my eyes landed on the wall of windows and French doors. I could see a simple but beautiful stone railing at the end of the narrow deck, steps leading down to a grassy area. I walked forward and that was when I saw the stunning pond in the backyard.

 

“Wow,” I gasped just before the main wooden doors opened behind me. 

 

I turned to see a middle-aged couple walk in, both of who were dressed elegantly. I nodded in a polite greeting before scooting off to the kitchen. I double-checked the room for cleanliness and then headed into the formal dining room to take my place behind the hors d'oeuvres table. Even if I wasn’t particularly excited for the job I was determined to be professional. I had to make it a point not to focus on the real description of tonight’s job and how I had ‘studied up’ in the kitchen just a while earlier.

 

I felt quite degraded, particularly when I thought of Remi. He was supposed to be a guest tonight and I hated the idea of him knowing the real reason I had been hired. I wasn’t the official chef; I was just some pretty face to tell people about the food. There was no doubt in my mind he would have plenty of disparaging comments about it.

 

Within the hour a large number of guests arrived and I understood more of why someone like Remi Parker was invited. I greeted everything from older people to socialites with a good name. There were no well-known people who had been involved in scandals or had an awful reputation; in my mind, Remi was as low as the bar got. I wondered if he knew the Archers personally or if they didn’t know about his reputation. Everyone was dressed to impress, but the taste level varied. The younger crowd, some of so-called new money and other insufferable elitists, wore flashier evening clothes.

 

This whole event was so different for me. I was used to getting dirty and working over hot grills all day. Not dressing up and engaging in fancy talk like these people. Needless to say, I felt little out of my element. Still, I gave everyone the most genuine smile I could.

 

“And what is this?”

 

A young lady in her early twenties pointed at a plate on the table. She had the sort of facial expression that always looked slightly grossed out. I found her scrunched eyebrows and upturned nose rather annoying, but I smiled politely anyway. “That is snapper crudo with chiles and sesame, served over two cucumber slices. It is refreshing and quite tasty.”

 

The young lady scrunched her nose, “Crudo? Like raw?”

 

“Yes, but it is safe. It has been dressed with a small amount of olive–”

 

“Hm, no. I don’t eat raw,” she interrupted me before pointing to another plate. This time she didn’t even bother to ask, she merely signaled.

 

“Ah, these are blue crab beignets. They are only lightly battered and the crabmeat inside is the freshest possible. I do suggest you try one, miss.”

 

The young lady wrinkled her nose again and tapped her lips with her index finger. She gave a small shrug and nodded, “I’ll try one.”

 

I stared at her for a moment before reaching across for a plate and napkin to place a single beignet in the center. The guests were meant to serve their own hors d'oeuvres, but this woman clearly didn’t get the memo. She took the plate from my hand and looked at the beignet carefully. I had no clue how much she could possibly see in a single, brownish ball of dough. She delicately grabbed the toothpick and raised the beignet to her mouth to take the tiniest mouse-sized bite. She pulled it back and stared, taking a moment to realize the crabmeat was further in the center.

 

“Thank you,” she smiled falsely before stepping out of the room.

 

I was beyond annoyed and felt even lower than I did at the start of the evening. Had I known this was the sort of thing I was hired to do, I would have preferred to turn down the job. My only sources of consolation were that I could list it for experience and that I would see my father at some point. I hadn’t found out my dad was going until the morning I was invited, something that had provided me great comfort after finding out Remi would attend and likely bug me relentlessly. 

 

“Good evening, young lady,” I heard my father’s voice.

 

I beamed and looked up from the table. “Good evening!”

 

He walked forward and crammed numerous hors d'oeuvres on his little plate without bothering to ask what they were. My dad loved food, but he was able to differentiate between the good and bad. I always joked I was grateful for his stomach of steel because it held up well during my many cooking trials growing up. We weren’t able to chat long since a few more people filtered in and I had to work.

 

He gave me a wink and walked out of the room. I stood at the table explaining the different types of hors d'oeuvres to everyone as they filled their plates. Once that group had left, a couple went in asking me questions about the main course. I answered all their questions and sighed after they walked out of the room. I wish I had been the one cooking the main dish. But then again, with this crowd, maybe it was best that I didn’t.

 

I looked across to where my father stood near the archway of the entrance hall. He was talking to a couple other businessmen, both of who were chuckling heartily at whatever it was my dad was telling them. I smiled and thought of what a great man he was. Perhaps he hadn’t been a perfect father, but there’s no such thing as a perfect dad. I couldn’t deny he was overall great to me and there was no doubt in my mind he loved me more than anyone or anything in the world.

 

Then I saw Remi walk into the room with a beautiful blond hanging on his arm. She was tall and lean with large breasts and big, round eyes.

 

“Just his type.” I muttered under my breath.

 

Even I had to admit the young woman looked great, even if she was a bit typical. She wore an emerald chiffon gown with a keyhole and a long slit up the middle. It was elegant, but still showed off her long legs and huge breasts without being inappropriate for the event. I saw a number of people instantly greet him as he made his way through the room, heading toward my serving table.

 

My stomach knotted up and I felt awful on the inside, but I was determined not to let him catch on even in the slightest. I perked up on the surface and put my best serious, but friendly face on. When he walked up to the table, he gave me an unexpectedly pleasant smile.

 

“Hello.”

 

I wasn’t sure if he was pretending not to know me or if he was just being courteous given the event and our personal situation. I saw a subtle hint of something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place, but decided I didn’t have the time to try and figure it out.

 

“Hello back.” I smiled to the both of them and returned his polite greeting.

 

I looked at the blonde woman. She seemed a bit absent-minded and ditsy—even more his type. I held back a laugh; I would have thought even he would have had the good sense to bring along a more suitable date to such an important event.

 

“Honey, how about you go grab us a couple drinks at the bar?”

 

“Sure,” the blonde woman said before heading off. It was impossible for me to tell what the woman’s thoughts were, if she had any at all.

 

“She seems… nice,” I said. “Already calling her honey. Talk about working an angle.”

 

“I’m not calling her honey. Her name is Honey.”

 

I snorted. I couldn’t believe what I just heard. As much as I tried to quell my mocking laughter it was too hard. He actually brought someone named Honey as his date to the Harold Archer Fundraising Dinner. “So that’s the flavor of the week, huh?” I couldn’t help but poke fun at the young woman’s name.

 

“I only brought her with me to make you jealous,” Remi said bluntly.

 

My smile fell at once. “You’re an asshole,” I hissed even though my eyes raked up and down his body. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he looked damn good in a tuxedo.

 

Before I had the chance to answer, I saw Honey coming back with the drinks. That was when I came up with a little plan. If Remi wanted to be immature, then I would join in on his little mind games. The perfect distraction came along when an elderly gentleman approached him.

 

“Mr. Parker, I wanted to thank you for your work at the children’s hospital.” I overheard the old man say as I reached for a small plate across the table. I placed two of my spicy stuffed mushrooms on it and set the plate behind a large decorative piece to shield it from view. I darted into the kitchen and took the small jar with the spicy powder I made earlier. When I returned to the serving table, Remi was still talking to the man and Honey was standing there sipping her drink quietly like a lost puppy.

 

I looked down at my spicy powder and hesitated for a second before practically pouring the rest of it on top of the stuffed mushroom. I had been cooking for Remi long enough to know he liked his food with a little kick, but this was going to be way too much for him. I waited for the older man to leave before making my suggestion.

 

 “They’re one of my personal specialties, spicy stuffed mushrooms,” I declared proudly. “Just be sure to eat it all in one bite that way you get all the flavors!” I gave Honey the regular mushroom and then handed Remi the mushroom that was hotter than Satan’s armpit. Honey graciously took it with a smile. At least she had manners. It seemed like she had better manners than Remi, actually. Honey looked at him and they counted to three before they stuffed the mushrooms into their mouths.

 

I watched with a devilish smirk as Remi’s eyes shot wide open. In an instant he was attacked with a fit of coughing. He turned at me with a knowing look in his eyes. I smiled back and gave a satisfied shimmy of my shoulders as I watched his eyes over flow with tears. He covered his mouth as he coughed a spicy powder into his hand. He was doing his best to hold back the coughing fit so he chewed quickly and swallowed before downing his entire drink in one gulp.

 

“Are you okay?” Honey was watching him in confusion the entire time. That only added to my satisfaction.

 

“Yeah,” he said all choked up, “It’s sp- spicy.” He had bits of food on his teeth. He grossly ran his tongue over them and gulped down the last bit of crumbs.

 

The woman made a face before shrugging, “They’re not that hot. Don’t be such a baby, Rem!” She laughed somewhat shrilly. Remi glared at me.

 

I smirked with satisfaction. I didn’t want to hide from this small victory. Just then Honey was distracted by the arrival of another guest. Without excusing herself, she walked out toward the entrance hall to animatedly chat up the young couple that had just arrived.

 

 “You’re a special kind of evil.” Remi said as he leaned over the table.

 

I could tell he wasn’t really angry. He understood it was all done in good sport. After all, he had openly admitted he only brought his date to make me jealous.

 

“I’ll find you later.” He said as he walked off. I watched him round the corner and walk in the opposite direction from where Honey stood, still chatting. The room remained empty for a few minutes and I decided to sneak a mini zucchini and goat cheese tart. It was quite good, but I really thought I could do better had I been given the chance. I had just swallowed the tart when my father walked up.

 

He walked behind the table and gave me a kiss on the cheek, “Everything is delicious, Eevee.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him I only made the spicy stuffed mushrooms. He looked around and then lowered his voice, “I saw you talking to Remi Parker. What was that about?”

 

“I’ve actually been cooking for him. Remember that new job I mentioned? Remi Parker hired me as his personal chef.”

 

My dad was instantly surprised. My heart dropped when I noticed his surprised expression turn into worry.

 

“Be very careful,” he warned. “His father, Albert Parker, he’s the type of business man who, well, I call him a snake in the grass.” I nodded, thinking I didn’t exactly have a great impression of Albert Parker either. “I don’t know much about Remi,” he admitted, “But be careful when dealing with anyone from the Parker family. They always screw you.”