NATHANIEL wore his toque and apron with grace. He's been a chef for almost six years, eight years if he'll include his 2 years of experience as a commis. For him, cooking is like creating a novel. You have to be sure and accurate with every detail you choose because one misused information can make the whole story questionable for the readers.

After his Culinary School, his father promised him a property in the Philippines to be his own restaurant if he'll start his cooking career in Venice as a commis. The old bungalow type building with a half-hip roof was a private party of his father's friend that he bought for him as a graduation gift. The brick style of the building's exterior and fixed-floor-to-ceiling glass window gave an authentic feel if viewed from the outside. Nathaniel paired the exterior with a modern Mediterranean interior for the dining area and a spacious modernized European kitchen.

Having Salvatore Kitchen is a dream come true for Nathaniel. Still, he hasn't found her dream girl.

"Hi, Chef Nathan," Nina greeted him as soon as he entered the kitchen from their locker. "Do you want me to prepare a coffee for you, Chef?"

Nathaniel knotted his forehead. He's aware of Nina's feelings for him, but because she's his staff and his friend's crush, he's forbidden to entertain her—or even show any false signs that could give her false hopes. False hopes and misunderstandings were Nathaniel's century-old problem.

"No, but thanks, Nina." Nathaniel refused without looking at her.

Nina is a pretty petite woman with soft brown curls. He can't blame Martin for liking her, she's such an angel in a waitress uniform. He was about to check the pending orders on the counter when his chef de partie entered the kitchen with a returned bowl of soup on his tray.

"What's the problem?" he asked, brows furrowed. "They didn't like it?"

Edward shook his head. "The customer just requested to reheat her chicken Tortellini soup."

Nathaniel opened the bowl to check the contents. "Did you tell the customer that Tortellini pasta might get soggy if over-cooked?"

Edward nodded. "She said it doesn't matter."

"Reheat it in the oven for just five minutes," he said and checked the bowl's temperature. "We have to be careful. Social media is the new high-tech gossip carrier."

"Noted, Chef," Edward said and went to his area of supervision.

Nathaniel snatched the post-it over the counter stall of their kitchen and check the orders. He wasn't surprised to see that Orecchiette with Broccoli Rabe was their bestseller today for Italian pasta. He then checked the other food orders and noticed the one with dishes that they seldom prepare.

"Who ordered Chicken Parmesan?" he asked, pointing at Sous Chef Martin.

He looked over his shoulder. "Table four. Why?"

"This is the first for today," he said. "I was actually planning to remove it on our menu because it doesn't sell that much."

Martin arched his brows. "Maybe the customer loves chicken-flavored pizza."

Nathaniel walked towards the double door of their kitchen. He peeked over the glass and looked for table number four. "I haven't seen them before. Maybe it's their first time here—"

"What is it?" He heard Martin asked from his back. "Did you see an alien?"

Nathaniel smiled. "Nope, I see an angel."

*

"DID I?" Kriszel asked with an arched brow. "I called for a waiter," she said and looked away from the man.

"I worked here," the man replied. "If you need anything, you can tell it to me."

Kriszel rolled her eyes heavenwards. "Bring us a bottle of wine—"

"What can you recommend to us?" Lalaine asked, her lashes flutter as she speaks. "I heard your restaurant has the best fine wines in the city."

"I see that you ordered Chicken Parmesan with Pepperoni for the main course, the best wine to pair that dish is our bestselling red wine, Venica Ronco Delle Cime. It's a classic Italian red wine that compliments to parmesan chicken."

Dr. Scarper nodded. "Venica Ronco is a popular fine wine," she agreed. "How about you, boys?"

Terence and Carlos just shrugged their shoulders. They're more occupied with the delicious dishes on their table.

"If I have a choice, I will choose coffee," Detective Albert joked. "Do you have coffee?"

Lalaine glared at the detective who looked-like a sleep-deprived person. "You'll pair these dishes with coffee? What the f—"

"Actually, we have coffee liquor cocktails," the man on his side said. "We have White Russian to espresso martinis, Toasted Almond, Widow Maker, Mochatini, and a lot more."

Carlos snorted. "Widow Maker is best for you, Detective," he said and laughed.

Kriszel wanted to smirk, but she controlled herself. Rumor has it that Detective Albert is dating his widow senior. "Serve it now, please."

"As you wish, Madame."

When she heard his footsteps walking away from their table, Kriszel let out a sigh. She must have expected it, that jerk Chef worked here, there's a big chance that she'll see him again.

"Kris," Lalaine called her in a shrill. "He's looking at you, OMG."

"I don't give a damn," she said like a hiss.

"I heard he's single," Dr. Scarper said. "And, by the way, he looks at you, it's obvious that he's attracted to you."

"Kriszel doesn't like him," Carlos said immediately.

Detective Albert laughed. "She's not interested in men, remember?"

"Did I say that Kriszel likes him?" Dr. Scarper asked. "The two of you sounded like defensive brothers."

"Let's not talk about nonsense things, please," Kriszel said with a shake of her head. "It's been a tiring day for me and—"

"You deserve a fine red wine for this evening." A second later, a champagne glass of red wine placed on her table. "It will surely lessen your stress with one taste."

Kriszel looked up, and when their eyes met, she felt the chill along her spine again, but this time, it struck her heart. She drew her brows together and glared at the smiling man.

"Did your parents forget to teach you the right manners?" Kriszel asked, sounding irritated. "It's rude to interrupt a conversation."

The Chef with dreamy brown eyes smiled at her. "Pardon me, Madame. It's not my parents' fault, I just can't control myself to get your attention. Every time you look up at me like that, a magical feeling is being sent to me.”

Kriszel frowned. “What the heck?”

The man bowed his head as an apology. "I apologized for being rude, my parents just taught me to appreciate a beautiful view. Do you mind if I get your name, Madame?"

***