The Faded Rose

Chapter 1

#The media above is how I imagine the hotel. The picture does not belong to me. The credit goes to the original owner.

"Calm down! It's going to be okay," My best friend Skylar reassures me as she watches me check my phone for the hundredth time.

"It's been two hours Sky! Two hours! You know how important this deal is to me. Securing this contract is crucial for the future of the restaurant." I run my hand through my hair in frustration.

"And it is absolutely vital for the future of this establishment. Otherwise, everything we have built over the years, all the hard work and dedication that I have, my team has put in, will be in vain. If I don't secure this contract, I might have to go back home, and you know I can't do that, not after what happened the last time," I confide, my voice faltering towards the end.

"I know and I understand! But getting all worked up will not help you." she exclaims, pulling out a chair and firmly pushing me into it. She pins me with a determined look when I try to get up. "Drink." She hands me a glass of water from my desk. "And take deep breaths. You're going to nail it, you own one of the finest restaurants in New York. And even if this doesn't work out, you will find another way because that's who you are."

"But-"

"Shh, it's going to be fine. Trust me," Skylar affirms, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

I sigh. "I guess you're right."

"I am always right." She winks, earning a chuckle from me.

"Don't you have a meeting in an hour? Go! You don't want to make your stringent boss upset, now do you?" I tease her knowing that she has a crush on her boss.

"Shut up! Its nothing like that." she retorts, her cheeks and neck betraying her with a subtle blush, silently confirming what she wants to deny.

Laughing, "Whatever you say!" I poke at her.

Her eyes narrowing in response, she sticks her tongue out. Slipping her red Gucci bag over her shoulder, she looks at me with concern. "I'll see you later. Are you going to be alright?"

"Go!" I mouth.

Giving me a quick hug but reassuring hug, she walks out hurriedly.

In an attempt to divert my thoughts, I step into the bustling kitchen where the aroma of sizzling ingredients fills the air. The restaurant, a testament to my unwavering commitment and five years of relentless effort, stands as a proud symbol of my culinary journey. Smiling at the dedicated team diligently preparing today's menu, I join their ranks and embark on crafting my signature dish, Cozze Alla Marinara. As I delicately garnish the steaming dish with fresh basil leaves, my phone abruptly interrupts the rhythmic dance of flavors. Balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder, I answer with a curious "Hello?" while effortlessly completing the final touch to the dish.

"Good afternoon, is this Hayley Preston from La Fiorenza?" A lady with a brogue accent answers.

Good afternoon," I reply, recognizing the distinct brogue accent. "Yes, this is Hayley Preston from La Fiorenza. How can I assist you?" My heart skips a beat, hoping that it's the call I've been anxiously awaiting. My fingers crossed.

"This is Jennifer Black from Lorde Group of Hotels speaking. Can you come to the Hotel Lorde Palace at 3P.M. to further discuss the catering contract for The Gala?"

"Yes! I'll definitely be there," I squeal, unable to contain my excitement. The lady lets out a chuckle in response. Expressing my gratitude, I end the call with a smile.

I choose a sleek black pencil skirt and pair it with a delicate peach top from the extra pairs that I keep in my office. Not being too fond of heavy makeup, I only apply my mascara and eyeliner to enhance my forest green eyes. I reapply my Dior lip gloss for a touch of color. Running the brush through my brown waist-length hair, I tie it up into a pony tail. Completing the outfit with black heels, I take a final glance in the mirror, satisfied with my appearance, before heading out.