Page 6 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

THREE MONTHS LATER

As soon as the leasing agent turns the corner, I lean against the cold brick wall with a heavy sigh. It’s barely two o’clock, and I’m ready to call it a day with some popcorn, a cold Diet Coke, and a new horror movie that’s now streaming.

A dull throb pulses in my head, courtesy of the agent’s endless chatter, and my toes are frozen from trudging through the snow to see overpriced apartments with peeling paint and drafty windows. I thought nothing could be more challenging than searching for a flat in London, but New York takes it to a whole new level.

When I arrived a few months ago, I was lucky enough to find a reasonably priced apartment in Manhattan. The lack of a lease should have been a giant red flag, but I didn’t think much of it until my landlord announced that I was being evicted to make room for their cousin. The worst part? I only have two weeks to find a new place that doesn’t come with a million-dollar price tag or a rat infestation. Which is why I spent the morning trailing a leasing agent, touring one dismal place after another.

The first listing we visited boasted “natural light,” but the reality was a dim trickle of sunlight through a cracked window facing a brick wall. Meanwhile, the “affordable” studio was sandwiched between a karaoke bar and a 24-hour gym. The worst place came last—a so-called kitchen reduced to a sliver of countertop squeezed between the fridge and the bathroomdoor, with no room for a cutting board. The lack of kitchen space wouldn’t be a problem if I weren’t a private chef who tests recipes at home, and takes photos for the cookbook I’m hoping to publish someday.

I wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d stayed in London instead of making the impulsive decision to move to New York. I’ve only been back to the States a few times for catering events since I lived in Florida for a few years after high school. Which is where I went to culinary school and met Theo. Once he opened his own restaurants in Europe, I went back to London to work for him.

Leaving behind a lucrative position with Theo Townstead, who’s now a world-renowned chef, and incredible boss, along with a flat in the heart of the city, might seem foolish to some. But the drive to make it on my own outweighed everything else.

My dream is to open an allergy-friendly restaurant where people with food sensitivities can eat without fear of cross-contamination. My mom had a severe nut allergy, and I saw firsthand how frustrating it was for her to eat out and wonder if her meal would cause a reaction.

When I was ten, my parents brought me to New York, and I still remember my mom’s voice when she told me this is the city where dreams come true. After my parents passed, I made a promise to myself that one day I’d return and turn my dream of opening a restaurant into reality, no matter what it took.

Right now, I’m questioning if it was all worth the risk.

My phone chimes, breaking the silence, and I smile when I see Lila’s name appear on the screen. No matter what kind of day I’m having, she always knows how to cheer me up.

We first met when I catered a wedding a few years ago at Whispering Pines Inn, a popular venue in Vermont, where she works as an event planner. We clicked instantly, and despite living in different countries until recently, we’ve become best friends.

Lila: How’s the apartment search going?

Fallon: Looks like my new place will either be a glorified broom closet with a view of a brick wall or I’ll be cooking in the dark on the edge of the sink.

Lila: That bad huh?

Fallon: I’m one showing away from moving back to London. Remind me why I thought coming to New York was a good idea?

Lila: Because you wanted a new adventure!

Fallon: The next time I decide to spontaneously move to another country, please stage an intervention.

Fallon: As my best friend, it’s your job to stop me from making impulsive decisions.

Lila: Duly noted. I’ll get right on setting up a “Stay Put” hotline for when you start daydreaming about your next move. If that fails, I can always padlock your bedroom door.

Fallon: I appreciate the support.

Lila: I’ve got your back always. Even if it means becoming your full-time warden.

Fallon: Aww, you really do care.

Lila: Someone has to keep you out of trouble.

As I’m typing a reply, my phone rings with a call from an unknown number. Normally, I’d send it to voicemail, but I’m waiting to hear back on several private chef opportunities that I applied for.

“Hello, this is Fallon speaking,” I answer.

“Ms. Hayes, this is Cabrina, Harrison Stafford’s assistant. Do you have a moment to speak?”

What could she possibly want?

The last time we spoke was three months ago, the day before I flew to Aspen Grove as a favor to Theo. What I didn’t anticipate was running into Harrison again, the man who still makes my blood boil. Ten years should have been enough to forget, but the memories still linger, sharp and bitter.

I tighten my grip on the phone, taking a slow breath to keep my annoyance in check.

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