Page 14 of A Billionaire for Christmas

This did nothing to quash the sinking feeling, her skin crawling with shame. If only Keela knew that Levi had rejected her before anything had even begun. Molly was desperate for this conversation to end. Her whole mind was becoming numb with embarrassment.

‘Promise me you’ll stay until the storm is over?’ Keela soothed.

Molly nodded but as soon as Keela left the kitchen, she yanked open the changing room door.

She kicked off the ridiculously high shoes and stuffed them into her backpack.

Speedily pulling on her snowsuit over her costume, her boots, a hat over her damp hair and some still damp gloves, she heaved open the outside door.

She was met with an icy blast and a sea of darkness.

A security light sprang on to reveal the snow, while piled high, was no longer coming down as thickly.

The main plaza below was still lit up but empty of life.

She had no idea what time it was, only that she wanted the comfort of her own soft bed in her own tiny room.

Steeling herself against the freezing cold, she stepped out into the snow and trudged towards the snowmobile, yanking at the handles.

The vehicle roared to life as if powered by her fury.

How could she embarrass herself like that!

She felt it strain against the snow blocking its path, the trailer caught in the drift.

Molly let out a frustrated scream. She unhooked the trailer and hopped back on the snowmobile.

It surged forward with force, and within ten minutes of what felt like a terrifying sheer drop down the mountain, she was sliding to a stop outside her charming, rustic, Alpine restaurant made of wooden logs and a thatched roof and hurling herself through the door with the big CLOSED sign.

She deftly wove through the wooden tables with their quaint red-and-green Christmas tablecloths and glittering candle holders, thumped up the stairs and into her safe and cosy apartment.

She slammed the door shut, shaking the walls.

She was fuming with rage and humiliation in equal measure.

She threw herself into the shower in the small ensuite and let the boiling hot water and soothing conditioning shampoo wash away her temper until her breathing returned to normal and the pain in her chest subsided.

She dried her hair and collapsed into bed, exhausted.

A throbbing between her legs reminded her of how much she’d wanted him.

Her breasts felt tender, aching for his touch.

Her whole body, her entire being, felt different.

She was tortured by images of her arching into him, her hair falling onto his chest, his eyes burning into hers as she more or less begged him to kiss her.

She’d begged him for a second chance! How desperate!

Molly felt the tears slide slowly down her cheek as she rolled over onto the pillow and implored sleep to take her.

* * *

The alarm went off what seemed like five seconds later.

Molly’s dreams had been full of traitorous images of Levi.

She dragged herself down to the restaurant kitchen to start the breakfasts and bottomless brunches.

She inspected her pasty complexion and red puffy eyes staring back at her from the mirror.

The only consolation would be that she would never have to run into Levi again.

She would stay safely tucked out of sight and away from the ski resort guests.

She opened up the restaurant and as always, no matter how hard she was finding things, the picture-perfect square bustling with skiers heading for the slopes against the backdrop of the snow-peaked mountains stole her breath away.

Light flooded in through the wooden window shutters, illuminating the quintessentially French décor, the beams across the ceiling, the huge fireplace that dominated the main eating area.

Molly and Ava had knocked a wall through, making the kitchen semi-open, so that the customers could enjoy the delicious aromas of Molly’s cooking.

Often, if they were glued to what she was doing, she would talk them through the process, politely answering questions on her unconventional techniques.

After a slow morning cooking breakfasts and making her house special hot chocolates for the few stragglers that came in, it was time for Molly to close up and head across the square to the main hotel kitchen to start her second job of the day.

* * *

As soon as she arrived at the hotel, Molly raced into the pantry, tying her apron strings behind her as she went.

Pulling her long thick hair up into a topknot, she grabbed the roster to see she had been assigned a small sixtieth birthday celebration being held in the hotel’s private dining room.

She flicked her eyes down the list for allergies and got to work preparing a tasting menu.

She decided on a ten-course degustation that would keep her so incredibly focused, she’d have no time to even think about the humiliation of the previous evening.

The horrified expression on Levi’s face.

The ridiculous way he’d fled the room on finding her naked.

It was making her blood boil just thinking about it. She felt such a fool.

Before she knew it, she’d taken her anger out on a whole basket of vegetables that were now so finely sliced and chopped she was ready to begin assembling. This was always the best part of molecular gastronomy.

Petra walked quickly over to her.

‘Good news, Molly.’

Molly saw the supervisor was waving a roster. ‘After the executive lunch you catered last week, there’s been a request for you to chalet chef.’

‘Thanks,’ said Molly, ‘but I’m happy staying here in the kitchen, out of harm’s way.’

‘Harm’s way?’ Petra blew out her cheeks. ‘You didn’t enjoy last night? That bad, huh?’

‘Sorry, yes. No. Not really. Ignore me. I just mean I’m happy here, that’s all. In the kitchen. Away from people.’

‘Okay, well, I’m not sure you have much of a choice, seeing as this request came from one of the female members of the board.

It was her husband’s business lunch that you catered, and it was a huge success.

They’ve asked specifically for you. They’ve got a family wedding coming up and I think they want to try you out. ’

Like road-testing a second-hand car?

Molly groaned. ‘It’s not up at the Cigar Lounge, is it?’

‘No. You couldn’t be further away, in fact. Their lodge is over the pass on the opposite side of the resort. It’s fairly remote, so you’d take a driver and van up with everything you need for the week.’

‘A whole week? But I’d have to close the restaurant.’

‘You’ve only been opening for breakfast, haven’t you? The money you’d get for one week at the lodge will triple what you make in a month. It might be worth it. Give you a break?’ Petra pointed to the mountain of vegetables she had chopped.

Molly considered it. The money would be great but the last thing she needed was an intensive week as a private chef, surrounded by a happy family.

She imagined herself weeping miserably into the cookie dough while they sang French carols round the fire.

‘I’m sorry. I’m not sure I’d be the right person for that. ’

Petra looked disappointed. ‘Please think about it.’

* * *

Later that afternoon, Molly walked around in a bit of a daze, wondering if shutting the restaurant and running away to the lodge might, in fact, be the right thing to do.

Her attention was supposed to be on shopping at the bustling market for fresh produce, but as she swept her gaze around the colourful stalls overflowing with fruit and vegetables, stalls brimming with cheeses and the smell of freshly baked bread and cured meats filling the air, all she could think about was Levi’s kind eyes, crinkled with laughter, his kissable lips curled at the corners.

Did she really never want to see him again?

‘It’s you! Isn’t it?’

Molly was jolted from her daydreaming. It took her a second to recognise who was talking to her in such a vexed Italian accent. It was the voluptuous redhead from the Cigar Lounge.

The woman regarded her coldly. ‘It’s difficult to place someone out of costume.

You were the guest at the hen party, no?

’ She looked Molly up and down disapprovingly, eyeing her bulging bags of produce and her chef’s apron peeking out from under her thickly padded coat. ‘Ah. Not a guest. You work here?’

Molly froze.

‘Where do you work?’ she ordered. ‘I want to speak with your superior.’

Molly took in her immaculate features. She was beautiful, but Molly found something hard and snobbish about her manner. She hated confrontation but she straightened, lifting her chin. ‘Why?’

‘To complain, of course.’

‘I thought the camel had been taken care of.’

‘That is not the point.’

‘I think it is very much the point.’

‘Waiting staff are not allowed to fraternise at these parties. You were clearly breaking the rules and I saw you with a phone. Taking pictures is strictly forbidden. Selling photos to newspapers is a sackable offence.’

Molly took immediate umbrage to her tone. ‘I’m a chef, actually . Not that it has anything to do with you what job I do. And the photo was only of me, not any famous people. I couldn’t care less what they get up to.’

‘There’s something about the hired help men simply can’t resist,’ the woman said in a laughing tone, her eyes quite serious. She drew her over-filled red lips into a sneer. ‘The whore that broke the camel’s back. That would be amusing if it wasn’t so tragic.’

Molly raised her eyebrows, and the redhead continued as though she wasn’t delivering a major insult.

‘A word of caution. Angelo is way out of your league. You’ll be nothing but a one-night stand to him.’ She tilted her head to fix Molly a look of warning. ‘Whereas he and I have something longer term. Do you understand me?’

Molly stiffened. The news was like ice freezing her veins. She’d never liked bullies or people who tried to manipulate others. But nor was she used to standing up to them. She lowered her gaze.

‘There’s nothing going on with me and the, erm, guest that you mentioned.

And anyway.’ Molly raised her eyes to meet the steely gaze of the woman in front of her, who seemed a lot less imposing with her breasts securely covered and that fire-engine-red hair stowed under her hat.

She hoped that she wasn’t about to tell tales to Petra and get her fired.

‘What I do outside of work is really none of your business.’

‘You’re new here, so let me give you some advice?—’

‘Thanks, but I’m good. I’m also incredibly busy,’ Molly interrupted, holding up her bags full of shopping with a forced smile.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ The redhead scowled at her. ‘And I am still going to complain about you. You work in a kitchen? I should have no problem tracking down your boss.’

Molly scurried away before the conversation could go any further.

She might detest conflict but even the mere mention of Levi and wild emotion seemed to rip through her like a tornado.

She felt the burning glare of the redhead on her back, unsure of what had just happened.

Why should Molly care about what the redhead and Levi did or did not get up to?

Then it came to her. The reason she was doing all of this in the first place. She swivelled round and made her way back to the hotel kitchen. Petra was busy flying around the place yelling instructions to a team of twenty sous-chefs. She glanced up at Molly approaching.

‘Is the chalet chef job at the lodge still going?’

Petra’s face lit up. ‘Yes, but you’ll need to plan out the menus as soon as possible because you’ll be leaving to go there in a few days.’

‘A few days?’

‘They’re flying in from Geneva. Private jets of course.’

‘And the place is remote?’

Petra nodded. ‘It’s a beautiful spot. The views alone are worth the trip. You’d get some time off to ski and relax. They have an excellent state-of-the-art spa up there.’

Molly yearned for some heat to relieve her sore, weary muscles. ‘I’m not even sure I’d know how to relax, it’s been so long.’

‘How hard can cooking for one family be? It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been doing.

And if you’re a success, it will open doors for you that you could only imagine, especially if they ask you to cater the wedding or future Christmas holiday dinners.

They might endorse your restaurant. After all, they do own this place.

’ Petra swept her arm around the kitchen towards the window and beyond.

‘It would be good for business…’ Molly twirled a strand of her hair anxiously.

Ava was the one who took all the risks. She had been the driving force behind their shared dream of owning a chain of Michelin-starred restaurants, glittering like fine-dining diamonds across the Alps.

‘And I don’t have any plans for Christmas Day, I suppose.

’ This wasn’t true. Molly had planned to clean the restaurant from top to bottom and then spend the evening crying alone into some soup.

‘What? You can always spend Christmas Day here with me, cooking for the four hundred covers we have booked in.’ Petra laughed. ‘Good job I have no children to go home to, isn’t it?’

‘Same. My parents booked a cruise the moment I told them I would be staying here to work.’

Petra shrugged. ‘Then this will be perfect for you. Think of the Christmas tips you’ll get.’

A guaranteed week of not bumping into Levi or Angelo or whatever he was calling himself (she’d done nothing but lie to him anyway) and avoiding both the angry redhead (she could do without the complaints procedure) and Keela (she’d fled without a word of explanation) seemed the perfect solution.

The number of people she was dodging was really beginning to add up.

Grateful for the escape and who knows, maybe even time to complete her bucket list, she agreed to take the job.

‘Just a word of caution though,’ Petra warned.

‘Their standards are extremely high, so don’t skimp.

You have an unlimited budget. Take one of the porters with you and get everything you need from the market.

I’ll look forward to approving the menus.

Do everything you can to impress them. It’s not just your reputation on the line, it’s mine too. ’