Lila's hand trembled as she gripped the phone, Mrs. Delaney's voice still echoing in her ears: The Culinary Institute! She stood in the hallway of Elliot's penthouse, the marble floor cold under her sneakers, her heart hammering so loud she barely heard the woman on the other end introduce herself. "Ms. Harper? This is Claire Nguyen from the Culinary Institute's admissions office. Do you have a moment?"
"Yes," Lila managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
She glanced toward the kitchen, where Elliot leaned against the doorway, his gray eyes watching her with a mix of curiosity and encouragement.
He nodded, a small gesture that steadied her.
She turned away, pressing the phone closer. "I'm here."
"Wonderful," Claire said, her tone brisk but warm.
"I'm calling about your interview yesterday. The panel was impressed with your passion and your portfolio—those recipe notes were a standout. We'd like to move you to the next round, which includes a practical exam. Can you come to our Hyde Park campus next week?"
Lila's breath caught, her knees wobbling. The next round.
She hadn't bombed it.
They'd seen something in her—her mom's recipes, her tweaks, her soul.
"Yes," she said, louder this time.
"I can make it. Thank you so much."
"We'll email you the details," Claire said. "And, Ms. Harper? The panel noted your lack of formal training, but your creativity stood out. Keep that fire. It'll take you far."
The call ended, and Lila stared at the phone, her mind reeling.
The next round. A practical exam.
It was a chance, a real chance, but the weight of it hit her like a sack of flour.
She'd need to practice, to nail a dish under pressure, all while juggling her job and scraping together enough for the train to Hyde Park.
And if she got in, tuition was still a mountain she couldn't climb without a scholarship.
"Lila?" Elliot's voice pulled her back.
He'd stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cedarwood cologne, feel the warmth of his presence.
"Good news?"She turned, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
"Yeah," she said, a shaky laugh escaping. "They want me for the next round. A practical exam. I… I didn't think I'd get this far."
His face broke into a grin, wide and genuine, the kind that made her heart do a somersault.
"That's incredible. I told you you'd kill it."
She laughed again, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Don't get cocky. I haven't gotten in yet. I still have to prove I can cook under pressure without, you know, setting the kitchen on fire."
"You won't," he said, his voice soft but certain.
"You've got this, Lila. I've tasted your food. They'd be idiots to pass you up."
Her throat tightened, his words wrapping around her like a warm blanket.
She wanted to hug him, to thank him for the mixer, for believing in her when she barely believed in herself.
But he was still her boss, still a billionaire whose world was light-years from hers.
She settled for a smile.
"Thanks, Elliot. For… everything. The mixer, the encouragement. It means a lot."
He shrugged, but his eyes held hers, intense and searching.
"It's nothing. I just want you to get where you're going."
The air between them thickened, the hallway suddenly too small.
She was acutely aware of how close he stood, how his sweater hugged his shoulders, how his gaze flickered to her lips for a fraction of a second.
Her pulse raced, and she took a step back, clutching the phone like a lifeline.
"I should, uh, get back to work," she said, her voice unsteady.
"Mrs. Delaney will have my head if I leave the kitchen a mess."
He nodded, but his expression was unreadable, like he was wrestling with something.
"Right. Work." He paused, then added,
"Let me know if you need anything for the exam. Time off, ingredients, whatever."
She blinked, surprised.
"You're already giving me a mixer. I can't ask for more."
"You're not asking," he said, a hint of a smile returning.
"I'm offering."
Before she could argue, Mrs. Delaney bustled into the hallway, her arms full of linens.
"Lila, dear, what was that call? Don't keep an old woman in suspense!"
Lila grinned, the tension easing.
"I made it to the next round for culinary school. Practical exam next week."
Mrs. Delaney's face lit up, and she dropped the linens to pull Lila into a hug.
"Oh, that's wonderful! I knew you had it in you. Didn't I say she was a gem, Mr. Voss?"
"You did," Elliot said, his voice warm with amusement.
"Several times."
Lila laughed, extricating herself from Mrs. Delaney's embrace.
"Okay, okay, let's not plan my graduation party yet. I've got a lot of work to do."
"Then get to it," Mrs. Delaney said, shooing her toward the kitchen.
"And you, Mr. Voss, stop distracting my best help."
Elliot raised his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes lingered on Lila as she headed back to the kitchen.
She felt his gaze like a touch, warm and unsettling, and it took all her willpower not to look back.
The rest of her shift passed in a blur of cleaning and prepping, her mind split between the exam and Elliot's gift.
By the time she left the penthouse, the sun was dipping low, painting the Manhattan skyline in hues of orange and pink.
She headed to the food truck, where Mateo was already setting up for the evening rush.
"You're glowing again," he said as she climbed aboard, tying on her apron.
"What's the deal? Did you win the lottery or just make out with your billionaire?"
"Neither," she said, tossing a dish towel at him.
"I got to the next round for culinary school. Practical exam next week."
Mateo whooped, nearly dropping a spatula. "That's my girl! What's the exam? You gotta bake something amazing, right?"
"Yeah," she said, chopping onions with a bit too much force.
"I have to cook a dish in front of them. No pressure, just my entire future riding on it."
"You'll crush it," he said, then squinted at her.
"But there's something else. You're all… jittery. Spill."
She sighed, setting down the knife.
"Elliot sent me a mixer. Like, a crazy expensive one.
And he's being… nice. Too nice. It's freaking me out.
"Mateo's eyebrows shot up.
"A mixer? Damn, he's got it bad. What's next, a diamond-encrusted whisk?"
"Stop," she said, but she couldn't help laughing.
"It's not like that. He's just… supportive. But it's weird, right? He's my boss."
"Boss, schmoss," Mateo said, flipping a tortilla.
"He's into you. And you're into him, don't lie."
"I'm not—" She stopped, her cheeks burning.
"Okay, maybe he's… attractive.And kind. But it's impossible, Mateo. He's got ex-fiancées like Cassandra crawling all over him, and I'm just—"
"Amazing," Mateo cut in.
"You're amazing, Lila. And if he sees that, he's smarter than I thought."
She shook her head, focusing on the onions to hide her smile.
But as the night wore on, the food truck filling with the scent of sizzling tacos and the chatter of customers, her thoughts kept drifting to Elliot.
The mixer. His smile.
The way he'd said, You're not just anything, Lila.
By the time she got home, her phone buzzed with another text from him: Good luck with the exam prep.
Let me know if you need a taste-tester.She stared at the screen, her heart doing that stupid somersault again.
She typed a reply, her fingers hesitating: Thanks. I might take you up on that. No coffee spills, promise.
She hit send before she could overthink it, then flopped onto her couch, the mixer gleaming on her counter like a beacon.
The Culinary Institute was her dream, but Elliot Voss was becoming something else entirely—something she couldn't name, but couldn't ignore.
And as she drifted to sleep, the city humming outside, she wondered if her heart was ready for a recipe this risky.