TOMORROW'S NIGHT
1132 Words
"Mia, are you ok?"
Mia looked up to see Pierre standing in front of her. She looked around but saw no sign of Adrian Lancaster.
"Wasn't Adrian here?" She asked, still staring around.
Pierre chuckled, "You've been thinking about that guy so much, you've started seeing things."
He turned and begin to walk off. "Come on, it's late. Let's get going."
Mia looked around one last time before going to catch up with Pierre. For some reason, she was certain adrian was right there, even for a second.
Was she really seeing things?
Mia spent the next few days trying to ignore the weight of Adrian Lancaster’s proposition. She buried herself in work, channeling her energy into perfecting every dish, but no amount of slicing, searing, or plating could erase his words from her mind.
She hadn’t responded to his text.
She wouldn’t.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
Yet, when Liam caught her spacing out during prep, he nudged her with his elbow. “You’re thinking about him again.”
Mia scowled. “I’m thinking about how to properly dice these shallots before I stab you with the knife I’m holding.”
Liam smirked, unfazed. “Right. So, the brooding isn’t about the ridiculously rich and infuriatingly attractive man who offered you a dream job?”
Mia’s grip tightened around the knife. “It’s not a dream job.”
Liam arched a brow. “A private chef gig for a billionaire who clearly has an interest in more than just your cooking? Sounds pretty dreamlike to me.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t have an interest in me.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why he showed up here like some brooding romance novel hero, looking at you like you were a five-star meal he wanted to devour.”
Mia’s cheeks burned. “Liam, I swear to God—”
Before she could finish, Pierre stormed into the kitchen, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. “Mia,” he gasped. “He’s here. Again.”
Mia’s stomach clenched. “Who?”
Pierre shot her an exasperated look. “Who do you think?”
Damn him.
She wiped her hands on a towel and stalked toward the front, her pulse unsteady.
Sure enough, Adrian Lancaster stood in the middle of La Lumière’s grand dining room, looking completely out of place yet entirely in control. The patrons cast him curious glances, but Adrian remained focused on one thing.
Her.
Mia took a steadying breath and approached, arms crossed. “You’re persistent.”
Adrian’s lips quirked. “I prefer determined.”
“You should prefer leaving me alone.”
His smirk deepened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, elegant envelope, placing it on the nearest table.
Mia eyed it warily. “What’s that?”
“A challenge.”
She frowned. “I don’t play games.”
“This isn’t a game, Mia.” His voice was smooth, certain. “Inside is an address. Be there tomorrow night at seven. One meal. That’s all I ask.”
Mia hesitated, her fingers twitching with the urge to grab the envelope and toss it right back at him.
And yet…
One meal.
A part of her—one she wasn’t proud of—was curious.
“What’s the catch?” she asked.
Adrian tilted his head slightly. “If, after tomorrow, you still think working for me isn’t worth your time, I won’t bother you again.”
Mia studied him, searching for deception in his stormy gray eyes. But Adrian Lancaster didn’t seem like the kind of man who needed to lie.
That made him even more dangerous.
“Fine,” she said before she could talk herself out of it. “One meal.”
His smirk was slow and satisfied. “I’ll see you at seven.”
And just like that, he turned and walked out, leaving Mia gripping the envelope like it was a bomb about to detonate.
Liam appeared beside her, eyes wide. “Did you just agree to a mysterious dinner with a billionaire who clearly wants to seduce you?”
Mia huffed, shoving the envelope into her pocket. “It’s not like that.”
Liam grinned. “Keep telling yourself that.”
But as Mia returned to the kitchen, pretending everything was fine, she couldn’t ignore the way her heart pounded.
Because deep down, she knew.
Tomorrow night wouldn’t just be about food.
And that terrified her.
The Next Evening, Mia stood outside an upscale townhouse in Manhattan’s Upper East Side, gripping the strap of her bag like it was a lifeline. The address Adrian had given her led to this sleek, modern building, with warm golden lights glowing through floor-to-ceiling windows.
She had debated all afternoon whether to show up.
This was a mistake.
But something had pulled her here, a stubborn need to prove to both Adrian and herself that she wasn’t intimidated by him.
Taking a steadying breath, she rang the doorbell.
A moment later, the door swung open, revealing a woman in her mid-fifties with sharp eyes and an air of quiet authority. She wore a crisp black dress and a silver pendant.
“You must be Miss Carter,” she said smoothly.
Mia hesitated. “Uh, yeah. And you are…?”
“I’m Evelyn.” The woman stepped aside. “Mr. Lancaster is expecting you.”
Mia stepped in, taking in the sleek interior. Dark oak floors, minimalist furniture, and an open-plan kitchen that looked both professional and inviting. The scent of fresh herbs and something citrusy lingered in the air.
“I see you made it.”
She turned to find Adrian standing near the kitchen island, a wine glass in hand. He had traded his usual suits for a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, making him look effortlessly at ease.
Mia crossed her arms. “I said I would.”
Evelyn gave Adrian a pointed look. “Shall I bring the wine?”
Adrian nodded, and she disappeared into another room.
“So,” Mia said, glancing around. “What exactly am I here to cook?”
Adrian set his glass down and stepped closer. “Tonight isn’t just about food, Mia. It’s about understanding each other.”
She tensed slightly. “I thought this was a test.”
“It is,” he said, his gaze steady. “But not just of your cooking.”
Adrian moved closer and closer to her. Now they were just inches apart.
Mia stood frozen to the ground, she could feel his breathe right before her face. His beautiful blue eyes never leaving her. Then slowly, he lowered his lips to hers.
Wait! Was she dreaming?
No. This wasn't a dream. This was REAL!
- Writer
