Runaway Chef [ON HOLD]

Chapter 18

Lunch later? I'll pick you up at 12.

I smiled widely after reading Paolo's test. After he confronted me that day, he had officially moved into my apartment and relocated all his works to his office in the heart of London. Two months had passed and now, we lived like a normal couple. Both our parents had finally calmed down and the Amaros were deadly mad at first but eventually cool down afterwards.

Smack!

I groaned painfully as my back was hit by something hard. Harold was laughing like a bastard he was and quickly approached Jo who was preparing a plate of duck confit. "Ouch!" I shouted at Harold who couldn't seem to stop laughing his heart out. "Really, Harold? I'll strangle you to death then roast you like a roasted pig!"

He stopped laughing and moved towards the couch before plunging his butt down onto the poor cushion. "Stop daydreaming, Quinn. This kitchen is not managed by some ghosts to have food going out of that door. Get to work!"

"Jeez! What some grumpy boss you are." I flicked him off with my fingers. "Be careful, Harold. Vanya might get tired of that wrinkles of yours real soon."

"Before I forget, I need you to meet up with our new client later during lunch. We will be catering for his family's annual dinner party." He said.

"B-but... Can't you go or something?"

He sighed guiltily, "Sorry, Quinn. I would ask him to meet me here but he's a busy man and as for me, today's lunch hour will be a full house later. The restaurant is fully booked."

I sighed and nodded slightly. Harold smiled widely before punching my shoulder with his fist as a 'thank you' sign. He soon walked away from the kitchen and into the pantry. I pouted slightly while Jo just chuckled as I typed a message to Paolo.

Quinn: Sorry, I can't. Have to meet an important client during lunch.

Paolo: It's fine. Dinner tonight then? My treat.

Quinn: Sounds good. I'm up for free food!

Paolo: Dinner it is!

"Enough with the texting! It's half an hour before 12 and your meeting with the client is at a quarter past 12." Harold yelled from the pantry.

I rolled my eyes inwardly at Harold while Jo continued to chuckle. I quickly grabbed my handbag and dashed out of the restaurant before Harold could make another snarky comments. Sharp at 12 o'clock, I arrived at the venue Harold had mentioned earlier. A woman in sophisticated work clothes with a pair of glasses greeted me at the reception desk.

"How may I help you, miss?" she asked.

"I'm here for my twelve-fifteen appointment."

She nodded, "Oh yes. Mr. Churchill is expecting you. If you would follow me, Ms. DeVaux."

The receptionist walked ahead of me as I stared at her killer stilettos. I would be limping if I were in her shoes.

Literally.

As we were walking through a wide and creepy hallway after the interminable elevator ride, my eyes scanned the interior appreciatively. The wall was covered in black paint with bright yellow paneling. Abstract paintings were hanged on the walls which led the passer-by to stop and appreciate them for a while.

"You may enter, Ms. DeVaux." She said as she stopped just by the huge redwood door.

I thanked her and entered the office after a simple 'come in' was heard. My eyes took in the spacious office room before stopping on a man who stood abruptly from his leather executive chair. My eyes blinked twice as I stood awkwardly before him. This must be Mr. Churchill the receptionist had mentioned earlier.