Page 1 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Chef

Chapter 1

IVY

"Ivy St. Clair: A chef who should stick to reheating pasta, not pretending to create it."

The words glared back at me from my phone screen, Ashton Blackwood's review still fresh even weeks later. My hands shook as I swiped to my bank app. $5.02. Five dollars, two cents, and a shattered career. All because one smug critic decided my food, mylife's work, wasn't worth the plate it was served on because I refused to sleep with him.

I hurled my phone onto the couch before I could be tempted to reply.Again.

With my laptop balanced precariously on my knees, I sat cross-legged on the couch, staring at the numbers on the screen as if they might magically change if I willed it hard enough. They didn't. Five dollars. That was the remaining balance in my bank account and I still had unpaid bills due before the end of the month. The chaos that had become my life was a stark reminderof how far I had fallen since Ashton Blackwood's scathing review had destroyed my career.

With a frustrated sigh, I leaned back, letting my head fall against the couch cushion. The apartment around me was a riot of color and life, colorful paintings and decorations hung along the walls, plants spilled from their pots, and the faint scent of roasted spices lingered in the air from last night's coconut curry. The busy decoration covered the cracks in the walls and the age of the apartment. It was a small space, but it was mine, and I'd made it a home. Right now, though, it felt more like a padded cage.

The scent of burnt sugar snapped me back to reality. Shit. My caramel was smoking. I lunged for the pan, but it was too late. Another failure to add to the pile. Tossing the smoking pan into my sink and turned on the tap.

My phone buzzed. It was Katie.

"Hey, cuz," I answered, trying to inject some cheer into my voice. "What's up?"

"Ivy, are you sitting down?" Katie's tone was urgent, and I felt a pang of worry. I leaned against the counter, gripping the phone tighter.

"I'm in the kitchen, so technically, no," I said, forcing a laugh. "What's going on?"

"Okay, don't freak out," Katie began, which immediately made me want to panic. "But I found something that might help. It's not a perfect solution, but it's something."

I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my nerves in check. "Katie, I'm pretty much out of options here. At this point, I'm ready to scrubtoilets. Anything's better than staring at my bank balance until it magically adds a couple of zeroes."

"Right, so, remember the employment agency I used to find my job?"

I remembered how my cousin found a job through the agency as an executive assistant for an infamously vicious billionaire CEO and ended up marrying him a year later.

"Yeah," I answered cautiously.

"Well, one of their clients is looking for a new chef."

I blinked, processing her words. "A billionaire? Like, a real, actual billionaire?"

"Yes, Ivy. A real, actual billionaire. His name is Cameron Fitzgerald. He founded some meal-kit company, Cam's Comfy Cuisine, or something like that. The pay is insane, and it's a chance to get your foot back in the industry."

My stomach flipped. Cameron Fitzgerald. I'd heard of him. Who hadn't? He was practically a household name, the man who'd turned simple meal kits into a billion-dollar empire. But he was also notorious for being difficult. Rumor had it he was cold, demanding, and his fiery temper drove more than one employee to quit.

"I don't know, Katie," I said hesitantly. "I've heard some things about him. He sounds intense."

"Ivy, you're not in a position to be picky. I can feel the desperation oozing over the phone line," Katie said bluntly. "And let's be real, you've dealt with worse. Remember Chef Marco? That guy threw a ladle at you, and you still managed to charm him into giving you a raise."

"He threw itnearme, notatme," I corrected, but I couldn't help smiling. Katie always knew how to cheer me up.

"Besides," she continued, "you're the most optimistic person I know. If anyone can handle a grumpy billionaire, it's you."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I don't know, Katie. This feels different. I mean, I've worked for difficult people before, but Cameron Fitzgerald? He's not just a CEO with a temper. He's a billionaire CEO. One wrong move, and I could end up back in this apartment, but with even less than I have now."

Katie's voice softened. "Ivy, I get it. I really do. But you're smart, talented, and you have this magical way of disarming people. You make them want to like you, even when they're trying not to. I've seen it happen a hundred times. You'll be fine."

I chewed my lip, staring at the mixing bowl in front of me. The batter was smooth and creamy, the way I liked it, but my appetite had vanished. Katie was right, Iwas desperate. Rent was due in two weeks, and I had no idea how I was going to scrape together the money.

"Okay," I said finally, exhaling the word like it had been stuck in my chest. "I'll do it. I'll send in my resume."

Katie let out a triumphant cry on the other end of the line. "You won't regret this, Ivy. I promise."

---