Page 3 of One Night with Cinderella

Serving as the president of the restaurant division of Cress, INC. made him responsible for making decisions that produced results. Phillip Cress Sr., his stalwart father and the company’s chief executive officer, expected nothing less and made that fact clear with all of his sons. Gabe was a strong-willed man with his own vision and ideas, but he had little patience. He was finding it tiresome proving himself worthy to a domineering father who expected nothing but blind allegiance.

Gabe wished his father knew his loyalty to his family existed because he loved his parents and his brothers above all and would do anything to see them happy. Making sacrifices wasn’t new. Gabe had always tried so very hard to be unproblematic for his parents. With five rowdy boys and a busy professional life that had led to stellar careers, his parents hadn’t needed an extra hassle. Another child to discipline. Another child to worry about. It had become his custom to keep his head tucked down, stick to himself and never disappoint the parents he admired. The accomplishments of his parents could not be overlooked or disrespected.

Phillip Cress Sr. and Nicolette Lavoie-Cress loved cooking second only to their five sons. Over the past fifty years they had established themselves as acclaimed and well-respected chefs, won Michelin stars and James Beard Awards, established many successful restaurants, and written more than two dozen bestselling cookbooks and culinary guides. As they began to slow down, the couple increasingly focused on growing the powerful culinary empire of Cress, INC. and diversifying their business to nationally syndicated cooking shows, cookware, online magazines, an accredited cooking school, which Nicolette operated, and a nonprofit foundation.

The couple had also passed their love of cooking on to their sons, who were all acclaimed chefs in their own right. Each son also played a role in the business. Gabe headed up the restaurant division. His oldest brother, Phillip Jr., ran the nonprofit, the Cress Family Foundation. Sean supervised the syndicated cooking shows. Cole oversaw the online magazines and websites. And their baby brother, Lucas, had just been appointed head of the cookware line.

But now Phillip Sr. was looking to one of them to groom as his successor to the Cress, INC. throne, and each of the Cress sons wanted the coveted prize of leading the family business into the future. And to have their father, who they all respected, give such a nod would be the ultimate testament and acknowledgment of their abilities. Still, it made for competitiveness and minor flare-ups among the brothers, which Gabe was finding tiresome. They had always been raised to be loving and loyal to one another. With each passing day, sadly, he saw less of that allegiance.

At times working and living together was a handful. Thus, his day of working from home and not at their corporate offices in Midtown Manhattan. He needed a breather. Of everyone in the family, he hated useless confrontations and arguing the most. He found it tedious.

His stomach grumbled, and he picked up his phone from where it sat atop his open files on the table. It was nearing lunch and he had skipped breakfast. Rising, he slid his phone in the front pocket of his tailored shirt, moved down the length of the garden and opened the sliding door of the glass wall of the dining room.

Across the dining room he spotted their housekeeper, Monica, closing the dishwasher and pressing the buttons to turn it on before she briskly walked over to the pantry. He hadn’t seen her moving about the kitchen when he was in the garden, but he wasn’t surprised. She was a great housekeeper, who they all trusted with their home and possessions, but she also made sure not to intrude on their lives. She barely spoke and rarely made eye contact. She was...skittish.

This morning in the elevator, if she had pressed her body back against the wall any more, she could have melded with it. It’s why he hadn’t bothered with much conversation. He hadn’t been sure she wouldn’t jump out of her own skin if he said too much.

Five years, and he doubted he’d spoken more than a dozen words to her in all that time.

Reaching the kitchen, Gabe opened the Sub-Zero to study the many contents for something to feed his hunger. He was almost tempted to prepare his own favorite dish of homemade ravioli stuffed with a mixture of wild mushroom, ricotta and parmesan cheese served in a bisque. Almost. It had been nearly three years since he departed his role as the head chef of the Midtown Manhattan CRESS restaurant. Cress, INC. came first. Gabe hardly ever cooked that much anymore. In fact, no one in the family did. There wasn’t time. Thus, the need for a family of chefs to have a chef on staff to cook for them.

With the release of a deep breath he acknowledged how much he missed being a chef. That alone was the clearest example of his loyalty to his family and his desire to help his parents further their dreams of a culinary empire.

“Oh. Sorry.”

He closed the door a bit and looked over his shoulder at Monica, standing in the entry to the pantry. Her eyes were wide with surprise before she looked down at the cleaning supplies she held in her hands.

“Jillian’s not here, Mr. Cress,” she said, her words rushed. Awkward.

He frowned. “Jillian? Do I need her permission to enter the kitchen?” he asked sternly, giving her an odd look before turning back to the fridge and removing a container of leftover ginger-lime carrots and another of seared scallops.

“No...no. Of course not. I just thought you were looking for her. Just...never mind,” she said, shaking her head as she set the supplies on the counter and began walking out of the room.

Annoyance sparked in him. This is ridiculous.

“Have I done something to offend you or make you so uneasy around me?” he asked, feeling as if she saw him as a wolf about to jump on his prey.

Of that, she shouldn’t worry. This shy and reserved woman unable to look him in the eye was hardly his type. He was tempted by fire and confident sex appeal. She appeared afraid of her own shadow.

Monica whirled, her face filled with her surprise. “Of course not, Mr. Cress,” she insisted.

Gabe was surprised by the sudden knot in his gut as he eyed the rare show of emotion she displayed. The first he’d seen in five years. It opened her face. Brought life and light to it. And interest. For the first time, he noticed she was pretty. If by instinct his eyes quickly took in all of her. A man studying a woman.

She favored Zoe Saldana. Medium brown complexion. Long dark brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail that emphasized her high cheekbones and doe-shaped eyes with long lashes. Beneath her black T-shirt and pants, he could tell she was tall and slender but curvy. He even found the flat mole near the corner of her left eye intriguing.

He wondered just what other emotion she hid beneath the surface. Passion? Desire? Pleasure? Satisfaction?

How would her face be transformed during her climax? Dazed eyes? Gaped mouth?

The thought of that caused his heart to skip a beat, as temptation rose with a quickness.

Easy, Gabe. Easy.

“I just wanted to make sure I’ve never done anything to make you uncomfortable with me,” he said, setting aside the allure of a subdued woman with hints of fire beneath the surface—a taste in women he had never known himself to have before.

She looked at him and visibly swallowed over a lump in her throat. “No. Never,” she assured him, her voice soft.

No. Not soft. Husky. Throaty.

---