The Prince's Secret Baby (A Baby for the Prince Book 1)(6)
Maggie let that slide, knowing that in some ways, he was right. A chef that was committed to their craft would cook for a prince the same way they would cook for anyone—to do less would dishonor the process.
“You must have had celebrities in your restaurant before?”
Maggie shrugged. “A few, but you are without a doubt the first honest-to-goodness royal BienVille has hosted.”
Raffaele thought for a moment. “I won’t be the last.”
Maggie admired his certainty. She knew that his word could make a difference in the restaurant’s bookings, and she didn’t think he was saying that simply because she was his date for the evening.
She leaned closer to him, deciding to share a story of her own.
“So, this one time, a famous New York chef came into the restaurant…”
Raffaele leaned toward her and nodded.
“He spent half an hour looking over the menu. And then, he asked why I didn’t have gumbo with filé listed on the menu.”
Raffaele gave her a confused expression. “That’s Cajun, isn’t it? Instead of Creole?”
Maggie smiled, delighted that he knew the difference.
“Yes, exactly! And he was so offended that we didn’t do what he thought we were supposed to do.”
“How did you handle that?”
Maggie could tell that he was genuinely curious.
“I asked him if I could just prepare something for him, off the menu. I fixed him my mother’s favorite dishes and then sat with him to explain the difference between Cajun and Creole.”
“Did he appreciate that?”
Maggie lifted a shoulder.
“Once he got past the fact that he didn’t know everything, yeah.”
“You mentioned cooking with your parents. Did they have another restaurant?”
“Same one. They retired three years ago and I took over. I updated the menu, made it more of an upscale place than a little neighborhood shop.”
“What did your parents cook before you took over?”
“A little bit of Creole, a little bit of Cajun, a little bit of other traditional Southern food. It’s really only been in the last few years that a restaurant could focus on one type of food and succeed.”
“Did you always want to cook Creole food?”
Maggie thought before she answered.
“I’m proud of my heritage and the food my family has always cooked. But…I did go through a rather rebellious phase before I got to culinary school. I wanted to cook anything else but my family’s food.”
Raffaele leaned toward her.
“Please tell me this rebellious phase also involved questionable choices in clothing and music.” He grinned to show her he was teasing.
Maggie laughed. “There may have been a few outfits I am less than proud of now.”
Raffaele nodded. “My mother threw out my favorite jacket when I was sixteen because there was a story in the tabloid press about it.”
Maggie winced. “So, growing up as royalty isn’t all sunshine and rainbows?”
Raffaele shook his head, but smiled.
“I had a few difficult moments, but the benefits far outweigh the drawbacks.” He nodded out the window. “Like this one.”
Maggie followed his gaze out the window to one of the biggest houses she’d ever seen. “Well, that’s definitely a benefit,” she replied in awe.
Chapter 3
Maggie
The limo drove slowly up a long, semicircular driveway, giving Maggie a chance to look at the setting for the party. The mansion was huge—the stone walls made it look more like a castle than a house—and it sparkled with lights.
Both Maggie and Raffaele donned their masks, his dark gold with a black ribbon and a black fleur-de-lis embossed on the side. Raffaele helped her tie the purple ribbons on her mask, and Maggie got goosebumps on her arms as his fingers brushed across her hair.
Purple and green decorations lined the driveway, and bright torches stood every few feet leading up to the massive double doors. Light spilled out from each window and when they got out of the car, Maggie could hear music from what sounded like a small orchestra.
Raffaele held his arm out and Maggie took it. As they approached the heavy oak doors, they swung open and a butler greeted them both with a bow.
“Sir, madam, welcome. You’ll find your hosts in the ballroom, or you may take supper out in the courtyard.”
The butler gestured to another man dressed in black-and-white, who offered Raffaele and Maggie glasses of champagne.
Raffaele inclined his head slightly. “Thank you.”
He took the glasses and gave one to Maggie, before raising his glass in a silent toast; she smiled and did the same. As she drank from the glass, Maggie thought how easy it would be to get used to being met by a butler at every door with a glass of champagne.
This party was definitely not her normal scene, though. More diamonds sparkled on ears, necks, and wrists here than she’d ever seen, even with her upscale clientele at BienVille. Maggie was pretty sure she saw more than one couture dress (and wouldn’t Anna, her ma?tre d’, be proud of her for recognizing a couture dress), and all the men were dressed in sharp tuxedoes that could have been a fashion show in and of themselves.