The Substitute Bride

Chapter 2: The Dinner

All great change in America begins at the dinner table.

-Ronald Reagan

Laila Fiorenza's POV

I now settled in the penthouse of the Greek billionaire. I had never expected that meeting with the legendary shipping tycoon would crack my perfectly mannered self I often use to be the cream of Sicilian society within two minutes of meeting him.

The moment I stared at those pair of icy eyes, I forgot everything and acted like a fool, throwing away the years of endless study in rigid protocols. Now, I was cooking in the spacious kitchen of Nikos Pallis. It was quarter past seven; he should be at home any moment.

The middle-aged housekeeper had toured me a while ago in this bachelor's pad of the Greek tycoon and helped me settle in the guest room. I had informed the housekeeper that I am the fiancée of Nikos Pallis which gained a delighted squeal from the woman.

The door opened. My heart started to jump in my ribcage. I chided myself why I was so excited to see him. I went to the receiving area to greet him like I always do when Patri was arriving home. I told myself that it was just right to welcome the owner of the house.

"Hi," I said breathlessly, wiping my hands in the apron I wore. "Good thing that you're here. Dinner is almost done." Nikos Pallis seem surprised to see me here standing, wearing an apron in his house. "We've met at your office a few hours ago remember? I'm your fiancée, Leila."

He seemed to recover from his shock. "What are you doing?"

I shrugged and went straight to the kitchen. "Cooking," I told him cheerfully as I continued to stir the pan. "Don't worry, I didn't put poison in the food I prepared."

He followed me inside his kitchen and was stunned at the variety of food prepared on the table.

"Sit," I told him, placing dishes on the table. "Dinner is almost ready."

"Where's Lily?" he asked, sitting on the table almost absently.

"I've sent her packing," I said lightly, placing a main course dish on the table. "I hope you don't mind I gave her a night's off. I want to cook for you in return for letting me stay here with you."

I sat next to him and served him a portion of the food I cooked.

"What's this?" he asked, staring at his plate.

"I hope you don't mind Sicilian food for tonight. Agneddu a'Missinisa. Roast lamb with special herbs," I said with pride, "my specialty."

He reluctantly picked his fork to sample my cooking. "It's..." he said after taking his bite.

"What?" I asked when he had this funny look on his face. "What can you say?"

"What other dish did you cook?" Nikos Pallis asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

I put another dish with cream sauce on his plate. "Pollo al Marsala. Chicken in a Marsala wine sauce."

"Hmm..." He savored the chicken with the cream sauce into his mouth "It's..."

"What?" I asked with a slight smile.

He eyed me intently. "You want an honest answer? Without sugar-coated words?"

"Yes."

He sighed and gave me an apologetic look. "It's awful."

"Really?" I asked with a groan as I stared at the food on the table.