Victoria The Billionaires Maid

Kenzie’s [POV]

Reece had gotten in well after midnight, not that I was fully awake until that time myself. After escaping Jonas’s clutches in the stairwell, I spent over an hour in the bathroom, trying to ease the ache he’d created inside of me.

I didn’t know why I couldn’t just thank God for the intervention and leave it at that. Instead of being grateful to have narrowly missed what would inevitably be a disaster, I was in the shower, using my fingers in an attempt to replace the feel of his as they stroked me earlier.

His mouth was wicked, but the way he curled his index and middle fingers to reach that one spot inside of me was downright lethal.

I hated him, yet I wanted him to fuck me, and not just in the room I shared with my roommate, but in the stairwell where anyone could happen to see us.

He pinned me to the wall and had my dress up around my hips. Someone had come upon us, and still, I wanted Jonas to finish what he started.

For all the progress I had made to stay in control so far, it was all for naught because I couldn’t resist him now any more than I could back in high school when I bought all of his lies about love and a future together.

I focused on that and eventually came on my fingers, then headed off to bed where I was when Reece came back inside. She hadn’t been alone, so I feigned sleep and had to listen to her and the man she was with a go at it until I did fall asleep.

My best friend’s cries and whimpers, and the sound of the headboard hitting the wall made me long for what Jonas had started, and when I pretended those noises were coming from me, I nearly came alongside Reece.

I had tried to pretend as if I was over him, but the truth hit me squarely in the eyes this morning as I tried to cover up the dark bags underneath them.

I still wanted him badly. I didn’t know if it was just so I could show him I wasn’t the same scared teen I had once been, or if it was to fuck with his head this time around.

The latter seemed to stick with me, so that had to be it. I had applied a bit more makeup to my eyes and prayed that today’s challenges wouldn’t melt it away completely. Once we got downstairs, I was relieved to see that the first one involved baking, which was one of my favorite things to do.

When I moved to my grandparents’ house after Houston, my grandmother would remind me of how I used to bake cookies on Christmas Eve with her every year when I was a child. Those memories hadn’t been very eventful ones back then, but having lost the woman two years earlier, I now cherished what I should’ve back then.

“We’re going to make French toast,” I told Reece, and she furrowed her brow at me.

“Isn’t that too simple?”

I understood what she meant, so I shook my head. I then grabbed my notebook and drew one of my favorite childhood classics for her to see. It was easier to do that than try to explain what it was named. The recipe called for fresh fruit and cream which was rather simple, but there were ways to elevate it. Instead of the normal fruit compote on top, I would make it a boozy one by adding alcohol to the macerated berries.

“Ahh, I see,” she told me, then went to get the fruit we would need while I debated on what type of liquor would taste the best between bourbon and champagne.

My thoughts immediately turned to Sunday’s fun-day toast, which was something I had made with Tori on her last birthday. She’d been so excited that she couldn’t sleep the night before it, so I took her into the kitchen, and we made a mess along with memories I cherished. As I looked up and saw Jonas typing furiously on his computer, I realized that it was something he was missing out on, too. He couldn’t miss what he never knew he had, I realized, so I turned my attention back to my recipe.

I eventually opted to keep things light by going with grand Marnier to macerate the berries. The liquor would give it a citrus kick. Reece soon returned with a trio of strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. I also wanted orange to zest over the top so as she began to prepare those, I quickly dashed back into the small pantry to grab the liquor and the other piece of fruit.

When I returned, Jonas was gone. I wasn’t sure whether he planned to return or not, and I honestly hoped he wouldn’t. Oliver had been quite the critic of not only my dishes but all of the other contestants as well. He knew flavor combinations, and technique, and had a refined palate which was likely the reason he’d been hired to oversee this competition with Jonas.

“I have a few strawberries left over,” Reece told me, and I almost told her to put them back until I thought of a plating design.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

“No, keep them here. We can cut them into roses and soak them in leftover Grand Marnier. We can then use them on the side as an edible garnish.”

“Never put anything inedible on a plate,” my first cooking teacher had drilled into my head from day one. This would be both beautiful and taste delicious. It would also hopefully help elevate me to the top of the list.

Reece used to defer tasks like this to me, but we’d worked on plating techniques a lot over the years and she could turn the fleshy fruit into a flower even better than I could.

I watched as she so effortlessly worked on the first one, then I turned to sneak a peek at my competitors. They were turning out to be fierce competition. I quickly turned back around so no one would see me staring.

The last thing I wanted was for any of them to pay attention to what I was doing. It didn’t look like anything extravagant going on at the two stations I had glanced at, which set my mind at ease.

I focused on my custard for my French toast, then sliced the brioche into thick slices. I soaked them in the liquid, but I knew they wouldn’t get soggy. I had perfected this dish over the years, and I realized it had been a while since I had made it.

Oftentimes, I cooked and baked for others while doing the minimum for myself. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had brunch, even though we used to have them a lot on Saturdays while growing up.

I made sure my griddle pan was hot, then I placed the sliced bread onto it and cooked all six pieces until they were browned evenly on both sides. I had a thing about plates, and I made sure to grab ones that were slightly curved on each side, so by the time the berries and sauce were added to them, none of it would leak over the side.

“Two minutes,” Oliver warned.

Thankfully, I was almost done. I quickly whipped up a small batch of sweetened cream and placed a dollop atop the boozy berries. I then used the strawberry roses as a garnish and had just wiped the last errant drop of liquid from the plate when he called time.

Jonas never returned for that judging, and I hoped he stayed gone for the other. The night before, I had almost given in to him right in the stairwell where anyone could’ve caught us, and someone did. I was so relieved that someone had intervened before I threw what little virtue I possessed away for him.

And damn, how I wanted to. Jonas had an uncanny ability to make me forget all rhyme and reason. He was so seductive, and even though I knew he was a jerk, somehow, it only made me want him more.

As memories of his fingers inside of me and his mouth on mine came rushing back, I reached over for a clean towel to dab my forehead.

Reece glanced over at me once or twice, and I could tell by her smirk that she knew what had gotten me all hot and bothered. I was glad when we were told to concoct something else for brunch that included one cold element.

“Stop staring at me,” I told her with a knowing smirk. The asshole wasn’t even there and yet he still managed to affect me. “We’re going to make a lime granita with a pistachio shortbread.”

After the heavier earlier submission, I wanted to showcase some of my other techniques, and who wouldn’t like something cold and refreshing to share with a batch of cookies? Baking those was something else I tended to do with Tori when in Arizona. She loved being in the kitchen, and it always made my heart swell with pride to see her enjoying the same things I did. The same things her birth mother did.