Page 63 of One Night with Cinderella

He wasn’t wrong. The nights were the worst.

“Call her, Gabe.”

His gut felt punched at the very thought of her. He shook his head. “No,” he said adamantly.

Lorenzo held up his hands. “Your life,” he said.

“Yes, and a new part of it starts tonight,” Gabe said, glad to move on from yet another what-went-wrong conversation.

“Yes, it does. Enjoy it,” his friend said before turning and leaving him alone in the small but well-stocked kitchen.

Gabe released a short but deep breath as he nodded as if he were an athlete prepping himself on the sidelines before he entered a championship game. Success or failure rested on his shoulders because everything had been his selection from the small staff, the menu, the schematics and the interior design. Every bit of it was how he wanted to be viewed as a chef to the world. More than ever before.

His sacrifice had been great and he wanted the reward to surpass that.

He needed not to feel like the biggest fool ever.

He thought of a sweet moment with Monica, laughing at something he said as they lounged in bed, but forced the thought away.

Clearing his throat, Gabe pushed through the double doors and stepped out to the front of the house. The restaurant was small and intimate with a clean and stylish decor of pale walls, dark furnishings, and bronze votive candles and floral arrangements on each of the sixteen tables. Large quarter-top windows ran across the front of the space, showcasing the brick-lined street and the river in the distance. In the deep alcove on the side wall, he’d placed the bar, with its copper background and recessed lights illuminating the array of bottles lined up on the wood shelves. He would be open for four hours, six nights a week with a focus on dinner service, offering a delectable five-course tasting menu of his choosing. He would cook what he wanted and charge a premium price to do so, with a new menu printed every night. A new inspiration every night.

Never had he felt so inspired.

He stepped deeper into the restaurant, and the applause began. With a nod of thanks, Gabe looked about the room at all the smiling faces and felt comforted that his family was among them. For a moment, he wondered if their support was more about genuine desire for his success or because he had returned to Cress, INC. in a less prominent role while making it clear he was not interested in being the CEO upon their father’s retirement. He could be there only if he was out of the race. He had begun to miss his family and the great work they were doing at Cress, INC. just as much as he’d craved being a chef again.

Stop being so dogged in your pursuit of success.

Mend the divide between you and your family.

Find a balance between what you want and what you need.

What he’d once felt was Monica’s ultimatum or attempt to control his life had become some of the greatest advice he’d ever received. And when he’d reached out to his parents, it was with clear intent that it was his way or no way. Finally, he’d spoken up for himself and shed the desire to be unproblematic. Having them concede to him had been shocking and satisfying. They’d missed him, as well. For once he’d thought his father saw his worth. But in that moment, he’d felt even more gratified knowing he didn’t need their approval or support.

Still it was nice to have—

The rest of his thoughts abruptly halted as he looked up and caught sight of Monica sitting at one of the tables near the windows. Surprise caused his heart to swell in his chest, and he felt a nervous energy course over his body as he took her in, feeling a hunger that was familiar. She wore more makeup than usual. Her smoky eyes, high cheekbones and nude glossy lips were beautiful. Her hair was pulled back from her face and behind her shoulders, framing large diamond chandelier earrings. But it was when she rose from the chair as he moved toward her that he truly felt out of breath.

The strapless black column dress was ruched at the middle, emphasizing her shape, with a hem that fell just below her knees, revealing well-toned legs and strappy heels with satin bows at the ankles.

She was stunning.

As he neared her, he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. He felt the same way.

“Hello, Monica,” he said.

“Congratulations, Gabe,” she said, her eyes unlocking with his to look beyond his shoulder for a moment.

He followed her line of vision to find his entire family looking at them. They all suddenly pretended to focus on their drinks and each other. Shaking his head, he looked back at her. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he admitted, wondering if his pounding heart was as loud to her as it was to him.

“Thank you for the invite,” she said.

Gabe didn’t hide his confusion. “But I didn’t send an invite,” he admitted.

Monica frowned, then looked disappointed before her expression went blank. She looked down at her feet, then up at him. “Oh,” she said before quickly turning and picking up her black-beaded clutch from the table.

“Gabe.”

He looked over his shoulder to find his publicist, Frank Lawson, standing behind him.

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