The Billionaire’s Chef:Recipe of us

Chapter 2—Desperate Collision

My heart raced, pounding in my chest, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry about the wine, but I wasn’t eavesdropping,” I lied.

His lips curled into a smirk, one that carried no humor. “Do you even know who I am?”

I shrugged, feigning indifference.

“Someone who shouldn’t be in front of the staff entrance?”

Before he could respond, the other man cut in, “John!”

The sharp-jawed man, apparently named John, straightened himself with his smirk fading. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, assessing. “I’ll deal with you later,” he said before walking away.

I turned quickly and ran into the staff room; my pulse was spiking. The encounter left me shaken, not just because of the intense atmosphere, but because I overheard a conversation I clearly wasn’t meant to hear. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seen him before.

I spent the rest of the night hiding in the kitchen, nervously washing wine glasses and trying to remove the image of John’s intense gaze from my mind. What exactly was his deal? And what did he mean by making an example out of me? He acted like he owned the place, and maybe he actually did, but who on earth did he think he was to grab my iKy and threaten me like that?

By the time the event ended, I was drained. My shift had ended hours ago, but I waited until the coast was clear before leaving.

The next day at the office, I still couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity as I prepped a pitch for a meeting with potential investors. My nerves were already on edge as I arranged my notes, but just as the meeting was about to begin, the door opened and a group of suited men walked in.

Among them was him.

My chest tightened as our eyes met. For a brief moment, confusion flickered across his face, then his expression shifted. A slow, calculated smile spread across his face, like he’d just made a chess move I hadn’t anticipated.

My boss straightened his tie, smiling like he’d just won the lottery. “Everyone, it’s my honor to introduce Mr. John Pierre, President of Pierre Global.”

The room rose instantly. It was as if royalty had arrived. But what threw me off wasn't his reputation; it was his demeanor. The ruthless man from yesterday had disappeared. He moved with effortless charm, shaking hands, offering polite nods, and speaking with smooth professionalism that almost felt rehearsed.

The meeting began, but I struggled to focus because his deep brown eyes seemed to linger on me longer than they needed to.

As soon as the meeting ended, I gathered my materials and slipped out of the boardroom, eager to disappear. I had made it halfway down the hall when a voice stopped me in my tracks.

“So, you work here?”

I froze. Slowly, I turned.

He was leaning against the wall, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“Yes,” I answered, my voice steadier than I felt.

He stepped closer, his tone lowering. “Sora Tanaka.”

I wasn’t even introduced in the meeting; how did he know my name?

“How do you know my name?”

He smirked, a look that made me want to punch him and run away. “I did a little digging. You’re not exactly hard to find.”

I folded my arms, trying to mask my unease. “Are you stalking me now?”

“Relax,” he casually said. “I’m not interested in your personal life, just your circumstances.”

“What are you talking about?”

He took a step closer, and I instinctively stepped back.

“You’re in debt,” he said bluntly. “Your father’s business is failing. Your family can barely scrape by. And your lover ran away with your savings. Am I wrong?”

The words hit me like a slap. “What do you want?” I snapped, anger masking the humiliation that burned inside me.

“To help you.”

I laughed bitterly. “Alright, what’s the catch?”

“Well, I know you’re resourceful. Bold, maybe even a little reckless.” His gaze lingered on me, as if he were sizing me up. “Which makes you perfect for what I have in mind. You also heard a conversation you shouldn’t have, and I can’t let you get away with that.”

My stomach tightened. “So what do you need?”

He hesitated, then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I want you to marry me.”

His words hung in the air, absurd and impossible. I stared at him.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Marry me. I need a wife,” he repeated.

“Temporarily, of course. It will be strictly transactional. Nothing more’.

I shook my head, laughing at the audacity. “You must be insane.”

“Possibly,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m also serious. Think about it; I will give you financial stability, pay off your debts, and fund your culinary education at any school you choose, not that place you currently go to. Just name your price, and all you have to do is play the game.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “Why me? Why not someone from your world?”

He smirked again, but this time there was a hint of amusement.” Because someone from my world would actually have too much to lose. You, on the other hand, have everything to gain, and don’t forget, you owe me.”

His words stung, mostly because they were true

“And what’s in it for you?” I asked.

‘Well, credibility,’ he said. “There's a…situation with my company. Let’s just say a stable family image would be advantageous.”

“This is insane,” I paused. I’m not marrying a stranger for money, and I don’t need your help.”

He sighed, pulled a sleek black card from his pocket, and held it out to me. “Think about it. When you change your mind, call me. But don't take too long. This offer has a time limit, and you'd be insane to reject it.”

I hesitated, then grabbed the card from his hand. “You’re unbelievable,” I muttered and walked away.

I spent the next few days trying to forget the encounter. Meanwhile, life continued to spiral. The bank called about our overdue mortgage payments; my boyfriend was still missing, and my younger brother’s school fees were past due. The weight of it all pressed down on me.

One evening during my shift at the café, I noticed a few missed calls from my father, followed by a text message that appeared on my screen: “Sora, your mother was in a terrible accident and…she’s in a coma.” Panic flowed through me as his next words hit me like a thunderbolt. “we don’t have the money to cover her bills”

With trembling hands, I reached for the black card in my purse and dialed the number. The line connected, and I took a shaky breath.

“I’ll consider your offer,” I murmured, the weight of my decision pressing down on me.

There was silence on the other end. Then, his voice emerged, smooth and assured.

“I was waiting for this call.”