Page 4 of Fake Fiancée, Real Baby
There was a lot to think about, but Claire enjoyed the challenge of her work. Her mind was filled with menus and different dishes she wanted to try. She was forever scrolling Instagram for inspiration.
Now, having ordered everything she needed from the stallholders, and bought the parsley she needed for lunch — along with Carlos’s beer — Claire returned to the yacht. She still had time before Mr. Bellagio would return, and, taking the longer route back to the marina, she decided to pass Le Paradis.She hadn’t eaten there — three-Michelin-starred restaurantswere somewhat out of her league — but the menu changed each day, and it was a sure way of keeping up with current trends in food. Only the other day, Claire had recreated a dish from the menu, involving scallops infused with green tea and grilled with pieces of mango. Mr. Bellagio had told her it was delicious.
I wonder what’s on the menu today.
Outside the discreet entrance, Claire paused, imagining the sort of people who stepped through its hallowed doors.
The same I cook for on the yacht.
The menu was displayed in a glass case, and Claire found herself salivating as she perused it — artichokes, anemones, and caviar; prunes, onion, and pigeon; prawns, saffron, and black truffle. The dishes were described with only single words, leaving the imagination to do the rest. The restaurant’s signature dish was lobster, cooked in white wine and served out of the shell on a slice of foie gras. Claire had seen it on Instagram.
Perhaps I could try something with prawns and black truffle.
The possibilities were endless, but time was getting on, and tearing herself away from the menu, Claire hurried back to the yacht. Carlos was on deck, cleaning the windows, and he looked up at her as she came on board with a sullen look on his face.
“Have you heard the news? I presume Vittoria’s given you your instructions, too,” he said.
Claire smiled and nodded. “We’re putting out to sea. I thought you preferred that to being moored” — for Carlos was always complaining about being stuck in Monaco, surrounded by the rich and famous.
“It’s my brother’s birthday next week. I was supposed to be going back to San Remo to be with my family. But I won’t be able to now,” he replied, in a sulky tone.
Claire held up the beer she’d bought for him. “At least you can have a drink,” she said.
A flicker of a smile came over his face, and he nodded. “I just hope you’ll cook us something good to eat.”
Of that Claire was certain, even as the details of just who it was she’d be cooking for remained a mystery.
CHAPTER 3
CLAIRE
Let’s see, now… I think that’s everything arranged. If they’re here early enough for lunch, they can have gnocchi, and then the langoustines for dinner. I should have a dessert ready, too.
It was the following morning, and Claire was busy preparing for the arrival of their guest. Mr. Bellagio had said nothing as to their identity, only that a certain level of discretion would be required.
“That’s why I’m not telling you who it is,” he’d said, when Claire had ventured to ask as to the person’s likes and dislikes.
But whims were something she was used to. As was cooking for people with particular tastes. In a restaurant, there was a menu. The diners chose from the menu and that was that. On a yacht — or in any private household — things were somewhat different. Claire had prepared for all eventualities: vegetarian, vegan, allergies, and fussy eaters. She’d risen early that morning, already at work in the kitchen, when Anna-Marie had come to fetch Mr. Bellagio’s early cup of coffee.
“Who do you think it is? Some celebrity?” she’d said.
Claire had shrugged. She wasn’t particularly bothered who it was. Though if it was someone really famous, she might show some interest.
“Oh, I don’t know. We’ll see soon enough, won’t we?” she’d said, squeezing past Anna-Marie, who had a habit of getting in the way.
She was a few years younger than Claire and had come to work on the yacht after a disastrous winter season spent as an au pair in Cannes. The two of them got on, but Anna-Marie was prone to falling in love with men she shouldn’t, and it was Claire on whose shoulder she’d inevitably cry. She was a pretty creature, with long blond hair and big blue eyes, which she fluttered just a little too much at Carlos and Anton. The time for the crew’s lunch came and went, and Claire served the gnocchi she’d prepared to Carlos and the other two members of the crew, not wanting it go to waste.
“Mr. Bellagio’s gone to collect the guest,” Carlos had said, shaking his head.
He was still complaining about missing his brother’s birthday, even though Mr. Bellagio had told them he’d be paying them a bonus for the extra time spent at sea.
“How long are we going to be away for?” Anna-Marie had asked.
“For however long our mystery guests wants to escape for,” Anton had replied.
He was a rugged man, older, and the most experienced of them all when it came to being at sea. He spent most of his eveningsin his cabin, and Claire would often hear him talking loudly in German to his wife in Naumburg.
“But who is it?” Anna-Marie persisted, with an exasperated tone.
