###Distraction and Conflict During a Date
Across the sprawling cityscape, at an ultra - sleek rooftop restaurant boasting a breathtaking view of the Hudson River, Alexander Hastings sat across from Serena, the woman who was—on paper—the perfect date.
Her hair was a lustrous cascade, so glossy that it seemed to catch and hold every stray beam of the ambient light. Her makeup was flawlessly applied, each contour and highlight enhancing her features to a near - porcelain perfection. Her posture was so impeccable that she could have been a model for a guide on proper etiquette. And her resume? It was nothing short of intimidating, filled with accomplishments that could make even the most seasoned professional envious.
And yet… Alexander's attention kept wandering. His eyes would involuntarily drift down to his phone, which lay on the table beside his half - empty wine glass.
There, on the screen, was a thumbnail of Charlotte. She was mid - sentence in the image, her hands gesturing animatedly. Her appearance was a stark contrast to Serena's polished look; a bit messy, a touch chaotic, but there was an undeniable magnetism about her.
Unable to resist, he tapped on the thumbnail.
"Seriously?" Serena's voice cut through the soft hum of the restaurant's background music. "You're watching …that… right in the middle of our dinner?"
Alexander, momentarily lost in the world of the video, blinked and came back to the present. "Hm?"
Serena's perfectly - plucked eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. "That woman again. Charlotte whatever-her-name-is. You're still paying attention to her?"
With a somewhat sheepish look, Alexander set the phone down. "It was just a video about her food event. She's hosting this big thing for a hundred people."
Serena let out a derisive laugh, her lips curling into a smirk. "She's making meals for a hundred people now? Please. This isn't some cheap carnival. She's clearly in over her head."
He smiled— barely more than a twitch of his lips. "Since when did you become so... sharp - tongued?"
Serena straightened in her chair. "I'm not being sharp. I'm being realistic. You can't honestly believe she'll be able to manage an event of that scale successfully."
"No," Alexander said calmly,"you're being petty. There's a clear difference."
Serena's smile froze on her face, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Excuse me?"
Alexander met her eyes evenly. "You're not stating facts. You're assuming things. And frankly, your tone has a bitterness to it that's… not becoming."
Serena inhaled sharply, her eyes glistening with a mixture of hurt pride and anger. "Wow. You're actually scolding me now? Is this how you treat every woman you take out on a date?"
Alexander's voice remained smooth. "You're my guest." he stated matter - of - factly. " And let's not forget,you're not my girlfriend, Serena, my employee."
Serena's jaw tensed, her teeth clenching slightly. "Right. Just your guest. And a lowly subordinate."
Alexander leaned back in his chair, watching Serena. "Exactly. And as your boss—and as a friend—I'm giving you advice. Be careful with jealousy. It makes smart people look foolish."
Serena looked down at her lobster risotto like it had just personally insulted her. The sparkle of the night faded. The wine tasted like water. And the perfectly-plated dish in front of her? Suddenly bland.
###New Flavor, The Six - pack
--The Next Day
Back at Charlotte's home, the post-meeting adrenaline had finally worn off. She was in her kitchen, wearing an old oversized tee with a cartoon eggplant on it and sipping lukewarm herbal tea, when Olivia barged in—again—like she paid rent.
The moment Olivia saw Charlotte, she wrinkled her nose. "Oh my God, are you seriously going to greet the six - pack I arranged for you dressed like that?"
Charlotte looked down at her clothes, a bit innocently.
Olivia let out a long sigh. "No, no, no. This is not at all the romance and sparks I had in mind! Oh God, what are we going to do? He'll be here any minute."
Olivia started pushing Charlotte towards the bedroom, muttering as she did so. "Maybe there's still time to salvage this."
But just three seconds later, there was a knock at the door. Charlotte's eyes went wide as she looked at Olivia in silence. Should she still change?
"No! Absolutely not!"
Olivia took a deep breath. Her expression instantly shifted from one of impending disaster to the kind of eager enthusiasm reserved for a party. She wiggled her eyebrows. "Perfect! Perfect timing. I told you—he's motivational. Open the door."
Charlotte walked over, muttering, "If this man shows up shirtless, I'm kicking you out of my life."
She opened the door.
And instantly regretted every joke she'd ever made about six-pack abs.
Standing in the doorway was a man who looked like he'd been carved out of marble and then wrapped in a crisp white button-down, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms that seemed to have their own fan club. His jawline could cut glass. He smiled politely, eyes warm and brown, with just enough mischief behind them to make Charlotte's brain short-circuit.
His gaze flicked over her flannel shirt, leggings, and flour-streaked cheeks. He smiled slowly.
"You must be Charlotte," he said, voice warm and smooth like honey on toast. "Nice to finally meet the woman shaking up the food world with real flavor."
Charlotte swallowed. "Uh. Yeah. That's me."
"Marco DeLuca," he offered his hand, firm grip, strong fingers. "Olivia said you needed help whipping up something impressive."
Charlotte blinked. Twice.
Then cleared her throat. "I—uh—yeah. I… might be in trouble."
Marco stepped inside, setting down a leather bag filled with knives, spices, and—of course—a protein shake bottle. "No worries. I'm good with trouble."
Olivia leaned against the kitchen island, grinning. "Marco, meet Charlotte Evans. Digital sensation, health-food advocate, and currently Serena Hastings' worst nightmare."
Marco raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like I'm in the right place."
Charlotte managed a breathless laugh. "Do you always bring that much confidence into a stranger's kitchen?"
"Only when they're famous and adorable.And maybe, if I'm lucky, you'll let me taste your famous guilt-free brownies."
Olivia mouthed new flavor at Charlotte behind Marco's back, making exaggerated licking gestures."That's not a euphemism, but give it time."
Charlotte swatted at her. "Please. Don't you have An important task to manage somewhere?"
"I'm managing you, babe," Olivia said, grabbing her purse. "Text me if he burns anything or makes you blush so hard you combust."
As she waltzed out the door, Marco set down his ingredients and pulled off his jacket, revealing the kind of sculpted arms that made Greek statues look underdeveloped. Charlotte turned around quickly to grab her mixing bowls, absolutely not blushing.
"So," Marco said casually, washing his hands. "Why the Chef's Challenge? You don't strike me as the competitive type."
Charlotte shrugged. "Someone underestimated me in front of a boardroom full of executives, and I'm petty."
Marco laughed, and it was rich and genuine. "Excellent. I love that energy."
He surveyed her kitchen. "Alright. Let's see what we're working with."
As they started prepping ingredients, the banter flowed easily. Marco guided her through knife techniques, flavor layering, and plating, always hands-on—but never overbearing. He complimented her instincts and didn't make her feel like a rookie.
At one point, as Charlotte leaned over to taste a vinaigrette he'd whipped up, she caught him glancing at her hips. He didn't look away when their eyes met.
She raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"
He smiled, slow and unapologetic. "Just admiring. I like women with curves. Real curves. I always say, a dish needs substance. So does a woman."
Charlotte blinked.
"I mean it," he said easily. "Bones don't keep you warm. Skin on bones doesn't hug you back. Real food, real people. That's what I care about."
Charlotte cleared her throat, heart thudding. "Well. Good to know you're not part of the 'Serena Aesthetic' fan club."
Marco snorted. "That woman looks like she survives on lemon water and air. No offense."
Charlotte grinned. "None taken."
"Besides," Marco added, leaning just slightly closer, "I think there's nothing sexier than a woman who loves food and knows what she's doing in a kitchen."
"Then I hope you're ready to be very turned on."Charlotte rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed a delicious pink. She turned back to her cutting board—and couldn't help the little smile that stayed on her lips for the rest of the afternoon.