My contract love story

“Good morning, Mrs. Cagliari. I’m Chef Larry. I work as the head chef in the Cagliari kitchen on weekends. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He extended his hand, and she returned the handshake briefly before pulling back.

“Well, I’m Ashleigh. You can call me that,” she responded.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“I don’t know about that, will I get fired if I do?” he teased. Ashleigh’s eyes widened as she began to refute his claims.

“Just kidding,” he said with a chuckle, “no need to get yourself more riled up than you are at the moment. This time, I can say it was well deserved. Tara needed someone to bring her down a peg.” His tone was appreciative, almost relieved that she threw Tara out.

“Hmm, seeing as you’re so happy about this, I’d say you have some grudges against her,” Ashleigh observed.

“Some would be an understatement,” he huffed, pushing up his sleeves that fell down to his wrist, as he had done earlier.

“Well, all that scolding this morning must have brewed up an appetite. I’ve prepared breakfast. If you’d please follow me,” he stated, gesturing for her to walk ahead.

They walked past the kitchen to the outdoor dining table, where a decadent array of dishes was laid out for her. At the sight of all the delicacies, her stomach grumbled. She sat down and began to eat.

She filled her plate with each of the dishes and ate silently. Chef Larry bustled around, refilling her glass of juice and preparing lunch. Ashleigh would steal glances at him from time to time, studying him closely.

He had sharp features, a stubble that added to his manly aura, and a well-built physique-not overly muscular, but enough to show he worked out regularly. He was a couple of centimetres taller than her, with tanned skin and short brown hair.

Ashleigh thought he looked moderately good, but she subconsciously found herself comparing him to Adrian. Adrian was taller and had a more imposing presence, while Chef Larry radiated a happy, bubbly energy that was evident even in his interactions with the staff.

Larry noticed her side glances and smiled at her inability to conceal herself.

“Ashleigh, I can feel your eyes on me,” he said. Ashleigh apologized quickly, the tips of her ears turning red.

“If you have anything to ask, please do,” he encouraged, pulling a barstool from the kitchen to sit with her outside. The sight was somewhat comical as he towered beside her with the barstool, which he refused to use. He insisted it would be rude to sit at the same level as her.

“How old are you and where are you from? Your physique suggests you used to do something that required a lot of strength.”

Ashleigh’s perceptive observation struck a chord with Larry. “You’re quite right, Mrs. Cagliari,” he admitted.

“I was a military chef before coming here. Twenty-seven years old.”

Surprise flickered across her face. He didn’t seem his age. “That’s incredible! You wouldn’t think you were five years older than me. You have a very mature air about you,” she remarked, earning a slightly sceptical look from Larry.

“Well,” he countered, “I wouldn’t have expected the mistress of the Cagliari residence to be so young either. But then again, Mr. Cagliari seems to have made a good choice.”

A blush crept up Ashleigh’s neck. “Oh, don’t say that!” she protested, waving her hands dismissively. Larry chuckled at her shyness.

Their conversation flowed easily, peppered with Larry’s jokes that elicited genuine laughter from Ashleigh. By the end of breakfast, she felt a lightness she hadn’t experienced in a while. She’d gained a glimpse into the weekend chef’s personality.

Needing to address the upcoming movie night, Ashleigh gave Larry instructions for snacks. “Prepare everything for the movie this afternoon,” she requested, “and hold off on lunch prep until dinner.”

With a farewell, she left the table and headed upstairs, leaving Larry frowning thoughtfully behind.

Certain details had piqued his interest. Ashleigh seemed to entertain Adrian’s opinions, but not wholeheartedly. The ring was conspicuously absent from her finger, and she’d become flustered when the conversation veered towards their relationship.

One could interpret it as a simple desire for privacy, but Larry’s gut told him a different story. He sensed a lack of genuine marital bliss between Ashleigh and Adrian, despite a clear attraction.

“Alright, let’s clear the table,” he barked, and the kitchen assistants sprang into action, whisking the plates away for washing.

Larry carefully collected the cutlery Ashleigh had used, holding it with a strange delicacy as he approached the trash bin. As he tossed it away, a dark look washed over his face. Like that discarded cutlery, he thought, Ashleigh wouldn’t last long either.

Brushing his hands off, he quickly regained his composure and went about tidying up.

Meanwhile, Ashleigh emerged into the hallway to a sight that filled her with confusion. Several staff members stood waiting for her. With Tara’s sudden departure, they were left without a clear leader for household matters. The memory of her earlier declaration asserting her authority brought a wave of dread. Until Mr. Atkinson, the estate manager, arrived, she was in charge. Failure to act could portray her poorly.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon were a whirlwind of problem-solving. Ashleigh tackled each issue as it arose, feeling drained by the constant demand on her energy. By the time afternoon arrived, all she craved was relaxation. And what better way to unwind than a movie night?

The only hurdle was locating the home theatre. Standing cluelessly in the first-floor hallway, her gaze flickered between the doors adjoining her room, across from it, and beyond. Just as she contemplated giving up and retreating to her room, a voice startled her from behind.

“The theatre is right there,” a familiar voice announced. Ashleigh spun around to see Chef Larry approaching, a tray laden with snacks balanced precariously in his hand.

“Larry!” she exclaimed, relief washing over her. “You scared the living daylights out of me!” Her hand instinctively flew to her chest.

Larry chuckled, a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes as he steadied the tray. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. You looked like you were about to solve the world’s greatest mystery just by staring at those doors. Can you open it, please? My arms are killing me.”

With a playful nudge, he gestured towards the door. Ashleigh quickly obliged, her fingertip unlocking the high-tech panel with a soft chime. As the door slid open, revealing a haven for movie lovers, she was oblivious to Larry’s furtive glance. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face as he noticed the other rooms on the floor illuminate in response to her fingerprint scan.

The theater was a marvel of modern technology. Soundproofing promised an immersive experience, while a giant screen dominated the wall. A self-service snack bar, complete with a popcorn machine, candy cane maker, ice-cream station, and a display of Larry’s delectable edibles, awaited her at the entrance.

Having prepped herself with a YouTube tutorial, Ashleigh navigated the movie selection and settled into a plush seat, ready to unwind. “Just let me know if you need anything else,” Larry said, turning to leave.

A question bubbled up, and Ashleigh called out, “Wait, how did you know this was the theater?”