Page 51 of Nanny for the Bossy Billionaire

I don’t know how to respond to that, which is just as well because Reid jumps in.

“Careful Gabriel. I will not tolerate your acid tongue toward Naomi.” Reid’s voice is more severe than I’ve ever heard it.

Chef Aranda raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I was only joking.”

“Well, I’m just letting you know that will be the last joke of its kind today.”

“Testy, testy,” Chef Aranda says as he walks around Reid and comes to stop in front of me. He offers me his hand and says, “It’s nice to meet you.”

I muster up as much of a smile as I can while I shake his hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“So, how is this going to work? Do you need a private room to conduct the interview?” Reid asks.

“Interview?” Chef Aranda raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, isn’t that what you’re here for? To interview Naomi?”

“I am the owner of several restaurants around the world. I run kitchens, I don’t sit at a desk all day blathering away. No offense.” He looks at Reid. “There’s no need to waste time talking. She wants to be a chef. So I need to know if she can cook.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, looking from Chef Aranda to Reid.

“I’m going to need you to cook me a meal. I want to see an appetizer and an entrée. You can make anything of your choosing. I know Ruth keeps the kitchen here well stocked, so you should be able to find all the ingredients you need.”

I look to Reid to help get me out of this, but he is useless. All he does is just stand there and offer me a small shrug.

I didn’t prepare for this. If I had known I would be cooking today I would’ve conceptualized the best dishes I possibly could come up with. As it is, my mind is blank.

“I’m sorry, is there a problem?” Chef Aranda asks.

“No, of course not. Would you like to wait in the dining room? When I’m done I can serve the meal in there.”

“Absolutely not. I’m going to watch your every move. I want to see everything you do, I want to see your technique, your decision process, and above all, I want to make sure you don’t cheat.”

“And how would she cheat?” Reid asks.

“I don’t know, but as you know, I am very thorough. So I want to see everything for myself.”

“That’s not a problem,” I say.

Chef Aranda claps his hands together. “Great, lead the way.”

I turn around and walk to the kitchen. Both men follow. Once there, they both climb up on stools at the kitchen island while I retreat into the pantry to figure out what the hell I’m going to do.

I stand there, looking at the shelves of ingredients. My mind continues to draw a blank. Just as I think I’m screwed, a full-fledged idea pops into my head, and I thank the culinary gods.

With a kind of speed I didn’t know I was capable of, I start pulling produce, proteins and spices off the shelves. Suddenly I feel like I’m in my own personal episode of MasterChef.

When I rejoin the men, they’re having a conversation, but I don’t interrupt them. Instead, I start cooking.

As I’m getting pans out, all talking ceases and both of them watch me intently. It’s a little unnerving knowing that both sets of eyes are following my every move. The reason I didn’t interrupt them when I entered the kitchen was in the hopes that they would distract each other for a while until I got in a groove. Clearly that isn’t happening.

I can’t dwell on that. I have to make sure that I am putting together the best plates I’ve ever made in my life.

I start prepping my ingredients. I slice. I dice. I julienne. To show off my knife skills, I’m probably a little more exaggerated than necessary. I cut up vegetables that my recipes don’t even call for, but I don’t sweat it because isn’t that the whole point of this?

I move around the kitchen with ease while I cook to show the chef how comfortable and natural I am in this environment. The kitchen has always felt like home to me, and this moment is no different.

50 minutes later, I am done, and I’m ready to serve.

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