Final Offer: Chapter 43

“You want us to go to dinner with your family?” My fork slips from my hand, and the scrambled eggs splatter against the plate.

Cal rubs the back of his neck. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. It’s just that I haven’t seen Declan in a while, and Iris flew out all this way since my birthday is next week…”

Shit. His birthday!

I completely forgot about that. It’s been so long since I actually acknowledged the day.

“You’re having a birthday dinner here? At Dreamland? Why?”

“Because my family is nosy and insufferable.”

“So just the usual?”

He chuckles.

“I don’t know…” I hesitate, my gaze sliding over to Cami, who raises her fork in the air like an airplane before stabbing a piece of her pancake.

“I understand.” The skin surrounding his eyes tightens. “No worries. My family can be a bit overbearing, so I don’t blame you.”

“It’s not that.” I stumble over the words.

“Then what?”

Yeah, Alana, then what?

“Isn’t having dinner with the family kind of…serious?”

“Only if you want it to be. I’d love for you to come, but I understand if you don’t want to.”

He took your kid to Dreamland. The least you can do is go to a dinner for him.

I look over at Cami. “I can’t leave Cami alone.”

“Of course not. Everyone is excited to meet her.”

“They are?”

He pulls out his phone and shows me a group chat he shares with Zahra and Iris.

I stifle my laugh. “Bad and Boozie?”

He looks up at the ceiling as if he needs to pray for patience. “I didn’t come up with it.”

“God, I hope not.”

“It’s the chat the two of them created to get on Declan and Rowan’s nerves after we went to brunch one time.”

“And does it?”

“Astronomically, which is the only reason I would willingly stay in a chat with the two of them. I have the notifications silenced most of the time.”

I laugh as I check out the chat. The first photo is a selfie that Cal took of the three of us eating funnel cakes in front of the castle. I’m clearly trying to clean Cami’s face, which is covered in powdered sugar as she devours the fried dough, while Cal grins at the two of us with an expression that makes my chest pinch. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look that happy before—that at peace.

Not even in the photo of us on the dock sharing cholados Colombianos.

Iris

OMG. Funnel cakes? One-on-one meet-and-greets with princess? A private dinner inside the castle with an exclusive chef? You’re completely spoiling them.

As it should be.

Zahra:

*Falls over from swooning so hard.*

Zahra

I’m jealous I had to work instead of hanging out with them all day.

Iris

Well, I’m jealous that you met them already!

Maybe you can meet them tomorrow.

Iris

Really?!?!

Zahra

Yes!!!

Zahra

Can you imagine me screaming?

I said maybe…

Iris

How can we turn that into a yes?

I haven’t even gotten around to asking her yet.

Iris

Tell her that I have been dying to meet her for years ever since you cried about her.

I end up laughing so hard that Cal frowns.

“You cried over me?” I wheeze.

He steals his phone out of my hand. “I had something in my eye.”

“What? A reality check?”

He scratches his eyebrow with his middle finger, making me laugh again.

“So, what time is dinner?” I ask.

“Why?”

“Because I’m dying to hear all about you from Iris.”

His head drops back with a sigh. “Worst idea ever.”

Cal asks the golf cart driver to stop the cart outside of a row of warehouses. Cami looks up from my phone to take in her surroundings before deeming them far less interesting than the video playing on the screen.

“Where are we?” I shield my eyes from the sun as I take in the various warehouses with people coming in and out of the front doors.

“This is where all the magic happens.”

My forehead wrinkles with confusion. “What does that even mean?”

“I’d rather show you instead.” He jumps off the cart and offers me his hand. Cami follows behind us, her head down as she continues watching the show on my phone.

“But what about going to the waterpark?” I take in my outfit of flip-flops, a one-piece, and a pair of jean shorts.

“As much as I’d love to spend the whole day with you in a swimsuit, that can wait for tomorrow.”

“But Cami—”

He cuts me off. “Is fine with what I have planned. She gave me the go-ahead herself yesterday. Right, kiddo?”

Cami throws him a thumbs-up without looking away from her screen.

“See?” Cal raises a brow.

“She was in on this the whole time?” My mouth drops open.

“Surprise.” Cami looks up with a wide grin.

“She didn’t say a single thing when I got her all dressed up in her swimsuit this morning.”

“Because he gave me money!”

I blink up at Cal. “How much?”

“Can you really put a price tag on discretion?”

“One thousand dollars!” Cami squeals, nearly dropping my phone.

“One. Thousand. Dollars?” My pitch rises at the end.

“I hustled him good, Mommy.” She holds out her fist for me to pound, something she no doubt learned from the man smiling beside me.

I press my palm against my forehead. “I’m not sure how I’ll survive the two of you.”

“Come on. We’re late.” He places his hand on the small of my back.

“Late for what?”

“You’ll see.” He leads us toward a blue door a little ways off from where the golf cart dropped us. With a tug, it creaks open.

The smell of fresh baked bread and cinnamon rolls hits me all at once.

“Oh my God.” I take a second sniff. “That smells amazing.”

His grin widens as he grabs my hand and pulls me inside. We walk through a semi-lit hallway before it opens into a massive kitchen with state-of-the-art everything.

“Bonjour!” A man wearing a white chef’s outfit waves his knife in the air.

“Tell me that’s not who I think it is.” I pull Cal back a step.

“Surprise.” He grins.

“You’re Alana?” Chef Gabriel asks with a hint of a French accent. He wipes the flour off his hand with a towel before offering me it to shake. His smile is even brighter in person than it is on those TV shows he guest stars on, making him look much more approachable than what would be expected of someone who gets paid to yell at bakers and critique their skills.

“Hi,” I squeak as I grab on to his hand.

Oh my God. You’re shaking hands with the Chocolate King.

My hand trembles in his, which he doesn’t comment on. I never thought I would be the kind of girl who would get starstruck, but here I am with my heart pounding in my chest and my palm sweating as I stand before the man whose career I have followed since I was in high school.

Chef lets go of my hand. “Cal has told me all about your love for baking.”

“He has?” My voice hits the highest pitch ever.

“Yes. He and I thought it would be fun if we made his birthday cakes together.”

I blink twice. “I’m sorry. Did you say cakes? As in plural?”

Cal coughs in a poor attempt to cover up his laugh.

“Yes. Cakes.” He emphasizes the s sound with a grin. “I was supposed to teach you one of my recipes, but once I spoke to Cal about his favorite sweets of yours, I thought we could swap recipes. I’ve been told your tres leches cake is to die for.”

I shoot Cal a look over my shoulder. “I didn’t realize you and Cal knew each other.”

Cal shrugs. “We produce his show.”

“Of course you do.” Is anything in the world safe from the Kane Company and their influence?

Who are you to complain? Now you get to spend the day with the Chocolate King!

Chef Gabriel shoots me a small smile. “Shall we get started? I have a plane to catch this evening and Cal told me you have a dinner to attend.”

“Sure. Yes!” I take a few hesitant steps toward the metal counter.

“Cami and I are going to go work on decorating some sugar cookies and cupcakes for Rowan’s buddies’ team meeting tomorrow.” Cal kisses my cheek.

Cami hands me my phone before reaching up and clasping Cal’s hand. The two of them walk to the other side of the warehouse, where a few employees stand by with trays of cookies, cupcakes, and decorating supplies.

“Are you ready to get started?” Chef claps his hands together.

“Yes, Chef.”

He chuckles. “Please call me Gabriel.”

I spare a glance toward Cal and mouth oh my God. His smile widens before he turns back to Cami, who is already dipping her fingers into the frosting bowl. She looks up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, only to break out into a smile when Cal swipes his finger against the side of the bowl too.

Those two are way too similar for my liking.

Liar.

Chef Gabriel starts rattling off steps while speaking about the ingredients he is using. I take in every single thing like a brand new baker who is learning how to properly crack an egg for the first time.

Together, Chef and I get to work on Cal’s birthday cake. It’s one thing to see Gabriel’s techniques on TV, but it is a whole other experience to witness someone as talented as him firsthand. Everything about him is incredible.

The way he turns granules of sugar into decorations that rival the best restaurants in Las Vegas.

His technique for glazing, which makes what happens on TV look amateur.

Him finding the balance between passion and perfectionism while he turns Cal’s birthday cake into a work of art.

“Fini.” He spins the cake tray in a circle, showing off his creation.

“Wow.” I take in Cal’s cake from all angles.

The skills Gabriel picked up during his twenty years of baking speak for themselves, and I itch to have even a fraction of his experience.

You could if you wanted to.

Instead of shoving away the thought like I usually do, I sit with it. A bit of the money from the house could pay for me to receive some formal training. It could help finance a few trips around the world so I can learn from chefs of all backgrounds, although those kinds of vacations would have to wait until Cami is out of school for the summer.

An idea starts forming. I could do anything I want to, so long as I am willing to take the risk.

“What do you think?” he asks, pulling me back from my thoughts.

“That my cake is going to look like it was made by a child compared to yours.”

He laughs to himself. “So long as it tastes good, who cares?”

“Says the man who just spent the last hour working on a single sugar art flower.”

He laughs to himself. “The chef I worked with in Las Vegas was a bit of a perfectionist.”

“You worked in Vegas? When?” I don’t remember that being part of his introduction on the show.

“Last year at the Dahlia.”

“The Dahlia?” I suck in a breath. That’s one of the most exclusive hotels in all of Vegas.

“Oui.”

“Where do you find the time? Don’t you have like ten restaurants to run and a million things to do?”

“When I was still a student, I told myself that once I made enough money, I would spend one month in a different city every year, learning about new techniques and skills to improve my craft.”

I lean forward on my elbows. “Wow. What inspired that?”

“Working for a stubborn chef who never wanted to branch out and experiment beyond what he was good at.”

I busy myself with clearing the counter of the all the dirty bowls and baking tools. “I always wanted to travel and eat my way around the world.”

His grin stretches across his face. “You need to. Some of the best experiences I had baking are from my time traveling.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. It brought the food I loved to life and taught me to appreciate the culture and people behind the recipes.” He clears the station to prepare for my tres leches layer cake, leaving me to consider what he said.

What would it be like to spend summers traveling the world, learning new recipes while exploring cities and cultures?

You could find out.

Maybe I will.