The Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Madame André

Luke Andrews played as Liam Hemsworth

Alison's POV.

I rushed into the kitchen, my eyes wide, as I searched for the man. Heels clacking loudly against the floor, I grasped his bicep, whipping him around to face me. His white hat wobbled dangerously on his head, and he sent me a scowl before adjusting it.

"Mr.Johnson, it's an emergency."

Frowning, he glared down at me,"Yes, what is it? I honestly don't have time for this, you know I'm a busy man Alison."

"Table number 4 are demanding that they get served with the Lobster Frittata ASAP."

[A/N: I legit just searched up 'expensive dishes' and the 'Lobster Frittata' came up. Don't what the heck the shit is, never tried it, but it's costly so yeah. Anywaaaay moving on.]

He sighed, shaking his head, his moustache twitching.

"Didn't you tell them that ingredients are not present right now? We cannot serve them the dish!"

I breathed deeply through my nose. Mr.Johnson was a successful man, but yet his ability to comprehend a situation and find a resultion were bare minimum.

"Yes, but they insist."

I knew that he wouldn't tell them that he surely could not serve them the dish. He had too much pride to get out and do so. Also to the possibility of those rich people suing him for such a small thing. But the possibilities were endless. You never know what went through a wealthy person's mind.

He ran a hand through his hair, his expression clearly distressed. Feeling sympathetic towards the man, I rubbed his back in attempt to calm him down.

"Mr.Johnosn as a pure opinion and input, maybe you could tell that they can get the rest of their meal on the house because we cannot provide them with the food they wish for? They can pick any other meal and not have to pay."

The man was silent, thinking my input over. Minutes later a grin spilt over his face, and he pulled me in for a hug. I laugh patting him on the back.

"That's a wonderful idea Alison. Thank you."

"It's all good Mr.Johnson, I'll be leaving now."

He nodded at me, shooting me a quick smile, before bustling back into the depths of the kitchen. I shook my head at him, before turning around to deal with the situation before me.

Passing by dozens of cooks who stood before steaming pots, spoons raised, and noses lifted as they tested out their creations. Others ran around, their arms full with vegetables or plates, as they rushed to their stations. Interesting smells drifted around the large kitchen as I swiftly avoided a pudgy young man, his arms overflowing with dirty plates, and a box of utensils.

Pushing open the double doors, the sound of a violin playing meets my ears. Chatter filled the rooms, as men and women in tuxs and dress sat, holding glasses of wine or a delicate amounts of food between their spoons. The deep red velvet cloth that covered the wooden tables, drooped to the floor, its tips touching the soft carpet below.

My eyes darted around my surroundings, as I quickly for the number four on a plastic stick at the middle of a table.

Muttering under my breath, I manouvered around the tables,"Number 11, 9...7, 4!"

Stopping at the furthest table to the left, that was tucked into the corner, the rain splattering against the window beside it. Pasting on my best customer smile, I grinned warmly at the woman sitting on the chair nearest to me.