Must Date The Chef

|| 5.

I feel my cheek again and sigh, I have done that a couple of times since Paul kissed me there. My head tilts to one side, I close my eyes and think back to our conversation, replaying each line over and over again.

His outburst is on me. I should never have called someone I just met boring, we are not close enough to banter without one of us picking offence. I bang my forehead against the steering wheel and let out a scream.

Though I like how he didn't back down when I started on my rant, I am still of the belief that he should have paid me as much attention as he did his TV and the only reason I am bothered by it is because I am attracted to him. I can always get a man whenever I want, but I want him. His reaction is what I did not see coming.

I smile to myself as I turn the key in the ignition, we will try again some other time. After all, I did not get a chance to properly thank him for the parcel on the passenger seat. Paul is yet to see the last of Pauline.

*   *   *

One word. Beautiful. That's the only word that best describes Pavilion, the hotel I was posted to. The signboard that has the name written on it is decorated with colourful lights which I'm sure will glow in the dark, the entrance has two flower pots on each side and the walls are coated in grey paint

The marble floor has been polished so well it shines, same with the mirror doors, I can see my reflection on them and I pat my hair that's up in a bun. My bag is perched on my arm, my makeup is on fleek with my red lips popping, those lips can be spotted from a mile radius, which is exactly what I want.

One last glance at my wrist and I mentally applaud myself for coming this early. I want to show the staff who the boss is and I also want to lead by example, this is a clean slate for me and I do not intend to mess it up.

After a final smile to my reflection and the smoothening of the invisible creases on my suit trouser, I open the doors. The smell hits me first, it's a mix of something citrusy and one other flavour I cannot identify but the combination makes me inhale and sigh in contentment as I stand there. Mr Adams spared no cost in furnishing this place.

"Good morning," I greet the fair receptionist with a smile as I walk past her desk, hoping my memory of the video Mr Adams sent me will serve. If I'm right, the lift is close by.

My greeting goes unanswered, I shrug it off, I am used to staff like her. I have already hit the button for the floor my office is on when the receptionist turns in my direction. Her eyes widen, she frowns and as if hit by a thunderbolt, she shouts at me to come out.

I scoff and hit the button again but the door refuses to close. The receptionist comes out to lean on her desk with one hand on her waist, looking to see what I will do next. I grit my teeth and let out a suppressed sigh, thanks for nothing, mister elevator.

Her arrogant grin widens as I strut back to her and I plaster a fake smile of my own. I will have the last laugh, she doesn't know it yet and I look forward to laughing at her.

"Who are you?" she asks while giving me a onceover and I return the favour. Nothing much to see from her end, she is wearing the company's shirt and black jeans.

The question throws me off balance but I quickly recover and put on a facade of total calm. "Is that how you treat your guests?"

I am not a guest but if this is how she treats them, we might be out of business soon.

Instead of replying me immediately, she turns sharply and strands of her long weave brush my face. From the softness of it, I can tell it is original human hair, the type that leaves a dent in your account balance. She must come from money, which will explain her rotten attitude and expensive taste.