Page 5 of One Night with Cinderella

Two

One week later

Gabe loosened his black silk tuxedo bow tie, leaving it to hang beneath the collar of his black shirt as he leaned in the doorway of the newest CRESS restaurant. It was the tenth such venture of Cress, INC., and as the president of its restaurant division, this was a personal celebration. He’d overseen every stage of its creation from its high-end modern design to its menu of French cuisine, and the selection of the head chef and staff.

His entire family was gathered in one of the four private rooms of CRESS X, celebrating its grand opening. The champagne had been drunk. The meal savored. The compliments shared, along with some business talk about current plans for the Cress, INC. empire.

He took a sip of vintage champagne as he looked over the rim of the crystal flute at his brothers.

Phillip Jr., the eldest son, pressed a warm kiss to the neck of his wife, Raquel, as she rubbed the back of their very sleepy toddler, Collette, stretched across their laps. Whatever he whispered in her ear brought a slow smile to her face.

Gabe could only imagine, and that made him chuckle into his glass.

His next eldest brother, Sean, moved about the room with his brandy snifter in hand, in full-charm mode. He hosted several culinary shows produced by Cress, INC., ran with high-profile celebrities and had snagged a spot as one of People’sTop Ten Sexiest Chefs last year. Thankfully his smile and culinary skills were as big as his ego.

His two youngest brothers, Cole and Lucas, both glanced over at a pretty server moving around the table, touching up everyone’s drinks, before they shared a wolfish smile that revealed they both appreciated her appeal, even though they didn’t dare to act upon it. Although Gabe wouldn’t put it past Cole to defy the rule and enjoy a night in her bed. He seemed to love going left just because everyone else went right.

Lucas was the youngest Cress son and, hands down, his parents’ favorite. They all knew it and accepted it. These days it wasn’t clear from his chiseled frame that he used to carry an extra fifty pounds from his mother’s indulgence.

Everyone had long since been assigned a role. Phil, the responsible one. Sean, the star. Cole, the rebel, and Lucas, the fave. Gabe knew he was the good one. The nonproblematic middle child.

He flexed his shoulders and took another deep swig of his drink.

Ding-ding-ding.

The blend of voices and cutlery hitting plates silenced as everyone turned their attention to his father, just having stood and now tapping a fork against his flute. Gabe eyed the tall solid dark-skinned man with broad features and a bright smile.

“We’ve shared forty years together, my love,” Phillip Sr. began, his English accent thick and his eyes locked on his wife, Nicolette, an olive-skinned beauty whose silvery locks held a hint of her past blond color. “Together we have accomplished so much and we did it with love. Of each other. Of our family. Of enjoying life. Of food.”

Gabe smiled as his mother reached to slide her hand into his father’s and softly stroke his palm with her thumb.

“And we passed that love on to our children—our sons. Five,” he stressed, patting his chest in pride.

The room filled with chuckles.

From the time they were small, the Cress boys had learned firsthand about food and the best way to cook it. To appreciate its nuances and how varying techniques brought out different results—all delicious. Each of them had trained in their parents’ restaurants and attended culinary school, then traveled different paths to become chefs. All were skilled culinary experts with a love of food that their parents had passed to them through their genes and home training.

“Tonight, we celebrate yet another success for Cress, INC.,” Phillip said, eyeing his adult children. “An empire that is the greatest manifestation of our two greatest loves. Food and family.”

Nicolette rose to stand beside her husband. “À la nourriture. À la vie. À l’amour.”

His mother’s favorite saying in her native French tongue. To food. To life. To love.

It was painted on the wall above all of her stoves—personal and professional—on the base of every pan in the Cress line of cookware, in the watermark of every letter from the various editors of their culinary magazines. It was also branded on all their online presences and the saying at the end of the cooking shows produced by Cress, INC.’s television division.

“À la nourriture. À la vie. À l’amour,” they all repeated in unison as they raised their flutes in toast.

Phillip Sr. and Nicolette shared a kiss and then a few more until they stopped with a reluctance that was clear. He took her hand in his and led her to the small area in the middle of the room, designed in shades of linen and bronze, before pulling her close to him to dance as he softly sang a French love song in her ear.

Gabe looked at them. He was single and mingling to his heart’s content without a thought of the lasting love his parents shared. Life had long since proven to him that he was a failure at balancing love and his ambition.

He stopped the pretty server with a polite and distant smile before setting his empty flute on the tray she held. “Thank you,” he said, unbuttoning the single button of his tailored black tuxedo jacket before turning to leave the room unnoticed.

For him, the night and the celebrating were over.

He made his way down the hall and then through the front of the house, barely taking note of the contemporary design, high ceilings and lush decor as he left the Tribeca restaurant and made his way to his waiting SUV. The driver left his seat and came around the front of the polished black vehicle to hold the rear passenger door for him.

Gabe thanked him with a nod and relaxed against the plush leather as soon as he’d folded his body onto the seat. The combination of champagne and the premium cuts of perfectly marbled and aged Miyazaki A5 Wagyu strip steak had been delicious but tiring. He was ready for a little solitude and self-reflection before the family returned from the restaurant and the festivities most likely continued.

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