CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Marcelo's POV

“Oh, hi!" She chirped, her fingers intertwined. I noticed how red her fingertips had gotten, and I could tell she was nervous.

“I mean, good day sir. I'm sorry.”

“Hey, take it easy,” I fought back the urge to smile.

“You can call me by my name.”

“But that's not proper —"

“I insist,” I said, turning for the cabinets. “Ella had told me something about you being a wonderful chef. She wouldn't let me breathe in peace unless I brought you here.”

Her cheeks flushed red in an instant, “Well, it's not like I’m that good, but I do offer catering services to people from time to time.”

“How long have you been doing this?"

“Six years," she said, turning away from me. “I mean, there was nothing else for me to do.”

I felt a hint of sadness in her voice, and somehow, it struck me.

“You don't have to do that anymore, I guess. If you pass today's test, we will be tripling the offer we originally gave you to work in our restaurant. Do you think that's okay?”

I couldn't tell if she had