Page 139 of Brie's Submission
Both girls took a fork and cut into his omelet. It was like cutting into a moist piece of cake. Brie took a bite and moaned in pleasure. Man, if she could cook like this her Dom would be kissing her feet…just before he commanded that she kneel and flogged her for a job well done.
“Begin.”
Brie gave Mary a wink. Now that she knew what she was doing, she would be out of here in no time. She followed his example of separating eggs, but went to dig out the shells.
“Throw it out. I will not eat shells,” Marquis snapped.
She poured them out and started again. After several tries, she had a shell-less concoction. She put the butter in and watched it melt. When she saw the butter turn brown, she realized she’d forgotten to take the pan off the heat.
“Start again.”
Brie sighed. Mary was already handing Marquis her second omelet. Brie held her breath while he tasted it. “Still rubber. Try again.”Looks like we’re cut from the same cloth, Mary.
The two continued through trial and error to replicate Marquis’ fluffy omelet. Brie could not get the hang of the wrist flip at the end and her omelets looked funky, but she was definitely improving—or so she thought.
Ten omelets later, Marquis snorted in disgust when they presented him with their attempts. “No!” He pushed the plate back to Brie. “Look, does that look golden or brown? Don’t even bother serving it. There is nothing more disgusting than burnt eggs.”
Brie went back to start a new one. She sighed at Mary when a shell fell in. She dumped the eggs and started again.
“There. That is close to the original. Do it again so that I know it’s not just a fluke.”
Brie watched in dismay as Mary started on her final omelet. She didn’t want to be the last one in the room.
Nothing about cooking came naturally to Brie. It was a mystery and even with instructions there was still a finesse she lacked, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her. Brie sprinkled the ingredients in and started twirling the pan. Too soon. She put it down and waited for the eggs to start bubbling. She kept glancing over at Mary, who suddenly seemed to know what she was doing.
The distraction caused Brie to brown the eggs and she had to throw the finished omelet away. She started afresh, groaning as Mary handed Marquis Gray her completed dish. He took a large forkful and chewed on it for several seconds. A smile spread across his face. “Acceptable. You may join Ms. Taylor in room forty-eight.”
Mary winked at Brie on the way out.
Oh, crap.
“Miss Bennett, now that Miss Wilson isn’t here to distract you, I trust you will succeed in cooking a simple egg dish.”
“Yes, Marquis Gray.”
Having all of the attention on her proved to be more pressure than she could handle. Marquis had to send out for more eggs. “Even if it takes all night, Miss Bennett, you will cook me the perfect omelet.”
Brie’s frustration grew as she failed omelet after omelet. It was painfully obvious cooking was not in her nature and she wanted to give up. However, Marquis would not hear of it. He was a formidable taskmaster, brutally honest and uncompromising. When she handed him her twenty-first attempt and he took a bite, he growled, “I will kill Thane for electing me for this assignment.”
It turned out that twenty-four was the magic number. “Although I am going to vomit, this is a good omelet.” He sighed and added, “Now make another.”
Brie wanted to cry with relief. She hurried to make another masterpiece. Three omelets later, he finally gave his seal of approval.
Marquis Gray looked up at the clock and shook his head. “You only have twenty-five minutes until your practicum.” He frowned and then stood up. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing else to be done,” he mumbled, as if to himself. Then, to Brie, he added, “Here, let me show you an easy pasta dish no one can decimate… Not even you.”
He collected premade noodles from the refrigerator and made a quick Italian dish consisting of freshly cut tomatoes, garlic, fresh basil and olive oil. Despite the simplicity of the ingredients, it was delectable—restaurant quality. The challenge for Brie was not making the tomato sauce, it was getting the noodles al dente. With just a few minutes to spare, Brie was able to present him with a satisfactory dish.
“You truly fail as a cook, Miss Bennett. In all my years of training I have never seen such ineptitude. I insist that you sign up for cooking lessons after this course.”
Brie bowed before him, mortified beyond belief, but she was grateful to be leaving the kitchen. “Thank you, Marquis Gray.”
“Leave. I must find a bucket to relieve myself of your cooking.”
“Where do I go, Master?”
He shook his head. “You are not allowed to call me Master after this.” He chuckled afterwards, so she figured he was joking. “Meet Master Anderson in room forty-eight.”
Brie’s heart sank.More cooking?“Beg your pardon, Marquis Gray, but I thought my practicum was starting.”
