AUTHORS POV

The kitchen was warm on Tessa’s skin, aromatic with herbs and garlic simmering in olive oil. A dozen staff stood at stations, chopping, stirring, plating. The space smelled of rosemary, salt, the sounds of cooking gas boiling.

The chef led her to a prep counter. “Signorita, please take this apron.”

She tied it on, still stiff in her cloth. He pointed to bowls of pre-chopped vegetables, chicken, pasta just like she had requested on their way there.

“We are preparing chicken linguine with garlic, rosemary, olives—Dean’s favourite.”

Tessa’s heart twisted—a pang of both sadness and gratitude. She did not envision cooking in that mansion for a long time....