by Maggie Gates
“Diabolical is what it is,” I said as I wagged a finger her way. “I’m starting to wonder if the prize money is worth it. I’m just gonna have to use it for a double knee replacement when this is all over.”
The top of my bag was open and my phone was laying on top. I had used our lunch break to take a cat nap after I inhaled a turkey sandwich, so I hadn’t had time to look at it since I left the hotel this morning. I picked it up and tapped the screen. The Poker Club group chat was full of well wishes and good luck texts, but a stray message that had been sent just over two hours ago caught my attention.
Hot Guy from the Gym in L.A.: We need to talk.
The way the words jumped off the screen had me reading it in his disgusted tone of voice. I knew I shouldn’t respond. If anyone found out that Luca and I had been—shall we say—previously acquainted, I could get thrown out of the competition. And whether I liked it or not, I needed that prize money. Still, my pride beat out any common sense I had left and before I knew it, my fingers were flying over the screen.
Maddie: Kiss my ass.
Hot Guy from the Gym in L.A.: Real mature. This isn’t over, Madeline.
Maddie: Ooooh, you think using my full name scares me? Guess what, Luca DeRossi. It doesn’t. You think you’re going to one-up me by screwing me over with the judges? Guess again.
Luca didn’t text back right away. Either the judges had been summoned from their break or he was ignoring me. Thank God. We only had a few minutes before Patty and I went head to head in the final round so I did the only thing I could do. I opened Twitter.
* * *
@XOMaddieLeeDee - 05/28/21 - 3:55 PM
@ChefLucaDeRossi wouldn’t know a good dessert if it hit him in the face.
* * *
6
———
LUCA
So, Maddie was the perpetual thorn in my virtual side.
I sat in the green room and strangled my phone so hard that I thought it would crack. I swear the girl devoted her Twitter to bashing me. It wouldn’t surprise me if my picture were somewhere in her house with devil horns, scratched-out eyes, and a Hitler-stache for good measure.
I knew what my role was. I’m the grumpy asshole judge.
Jenna was the nice one, Winston was the loose cannon of positivity, and me? I believe the exact description the executive producer gave when he pitched the gig to me was, “I need you to act like the lovechild of Simon Cowell and Gordon Ramsay—and there’s a bonus in it for you if you make one of them cry.”
I wasn’t going to make anyone cry—I wasn’t a sadist. I would be fair and firm. No bullshit. But that was before I saw Maddie standing in line, holding a flawlessly plated confection. After that, all I could think about was licking that saffron-honey mousse off of her naked body.
Like I said, I knew what my role was. My dick? Not so much. And neither of us knew what we were going to do about Little Miss Mermaid.
After tucking her into bed the night before, I’d gone back to my L.A. condo and jerked off in the shower to the thought of her mouth wrapped around my cock. And now, watching her work in the studio kitchen during the first half of the competition had been a test in self-restraint. Her desserts could make a monk orgasm with a single bite, and I had to sit there and be the cold picture of indifference.
One of the assistants stuck her head in the room and summoned us back to the judging table for the last round. I fired off one final text to Maddie and shoved my phone back inside the pocket of my suit jacket.
Luca: Good luck, Madeline.
✽✽✽
The final round of the competition was brutal and I didn’t envy Maddie or Patty in the slightest. They had four hours to create a tiered cake that represented the theme of opposites. I’d judged enough of these TV specials to know that vague challenges were the worst. It gave the competitor too much room to play with the concept. They often dabbled too much in the planning stage, trying to narrow down an idea rather than jumping in with both feet. Not Maddie. She was a beast in the kitchen. While Patty was fumbling her way through sketching a design, Maddie had already scooped her cake batter out of the industrial-size mixer and was double-checking the temperature on the convection ovens. Smart girl.
The last round was long, so the other judges and I got up and meandered around the set to observe the competitors. Maddie and I would have it out eventually, but I tried not to spook her in the middle of the competition. Much.
I rose from my seat and smoothed out the suit that Astrid delivered to my condo that morning. She didn’t ask why I looked like I hadn’t slept at all. I stopped at Patty’s station first and asked some open ended questions to feign interest as I poked around her table. I was talking to Patty, but my eyes were on Maddie. Winston Nacey was pestering her with stupid comments, and she looked like she was three seconds from throwing him in the blast freezer and jamming the door shut. I didn’t blame her. I hated food bloggers with a fiery passion. They were the culinary version of WebMD. They thought they knew everything, but they were all frauds wrapped in a user-friendly package. Commentators shouldn’t get credit for what competitors do. I gave Patty a curt, “Best of luck,” and made my way over to Maddie’s station.
“Chef Dorsey,” I said as I craned across her work table to see what she was up to now.
“Chef DeRossi,” Maddie said before pursing her lips into a thin line. She bit back whatever resentment she felt and busied herself by whipping up what looked to be a blackberry gelée.
I crossed my arms and stood tall. “Tell me, Chef, how are you incorporating the concept of opposites into your final creation?”
“I decided to go with the two greatest opposites there are,” she said as she ripped off a sheet of plastic wrap, let it kiss the surface of the gelée, and set the bowl to chill in an ice bath.
“And what are those?”
She paused a beat and a devilish smile quirked at the corner of her pretty mouth. “Heaven and Hell.”
“Ah, the great divide,” I grinned.
She looked ready to careen over the table and throttle me, but I cut my eyes toward the boom mic that hovered over us. Either she decided I wasn’t worth it, or took the hint and kept her mouth shut.
I lingered by her table. A minute passed, and then another. Truthfully, I had nothing else to say to her—I just liked watching her work. She was lightning fast on her feet, smooth and efficient in her motions, and her brain was three steps ahead of where her hands were. Seeing her in action left no question in my mind as to why Madeline Dorsey was one of the most sought-after pastry chefs in the country, if not the world. It was curious that she was content working in a sleepy fishing town on the Carolina coast when she should have been working in a Michelin star restaurant. Preferably one of mine.
“Anything else I can do for you, Chef DeRossi?” She asked, her voice tinged with irritation.
Kiss me. Make love to me. Let me shove all those bowls and spatulas off the island and lay you out, strip you bare, and kiss every inch of you. I cleared my throat and stepped back to put a few necessary feet of space between us. “Best of luck, Chef.”
✽✽✽
Maddie won—because of course she did. Conflict of interest aside, it wasn’t even a fair fight. She kicked Patty’s granny ass and she kicked it hard. Her “Heaven and Hell” cake was genius. Layers of dark chocolate devil’s food contrasted the light angel food cake. Her blackberry gelée and white chocolate ganache gave the cake the most immaculate tang and creamy sweetness. As I sampled the filling of her tiered masterpiece, I realized that I was tasting her. When I kissed her underneath the street lamp, I thought she tasted like sugar and vanilla. Now, I realized, she tasted better than that. She was complex and smooth and sweet and delicious. I wanted to devour her.
When the confetti fell and Maddie was handed that oversized check, I stifled my grin, but still applauded her. Her brilliance in the kitchen aside, she was just one surprise after the other. So she thought I was the devil. Honestly? I�
��d been called worse. I could live with that—maybe even change her mind. When I shook her hand after she’d been crowned the winner, I was surprised when she smiled politely and muttered a terse thank you before turning her attention to the rest of the judges. I guess that was preferable to her smacking me clean across the face. I probably should have been a little more forthcoming about who I was. Then again, she had some things to ‘fess up to as well.
I packed my things and high tailed it back to my condo to change. I could have called Astrid and had her bring me a change of clothes, but I didn’t want her knowing about Maddie unless absolutely necessary. Astrid was a great assistant and a kick-ass agent, but she never took well to my lady friends. Especially the ones she didn’t vet herself.
I leaned against the hallway outside of Maddie’s hotel room and closed my eyes. I was beat. Being a judge was definitely better than competing, but the days were still long. I knew she had to be feeling the exhaustion of an eighteen hour competition. It never failed to amaze me how long it took to film something that would be condensed into an hour. I knocked quietly. Either she was asleep or she was ignoring me.
I checked my phone again and let out a groan. No new messages. She never texted me back after the day wrapped. I knew she had another day of work ahead of her. Tomorrow all the contestants had to watch the footage back and give little interviews that they’d sprinkle into the episode. I knocked against the door again. I opened my mouth and almost called her name, but I didn’t want to risk anyone hearing me and poking their nosey heads out and recognizing me. I didn’t know if the other contestants were staying in the same hotel, but getting made wasn’t something I was willing to risk. I pulled my ball cap lower over my eyes and slumped against the door before plopping pathetically on the floor.
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I heard was her raucous laughter as she said goodnight to someone. Did she go out on a date? Was he walking her to the door? I scrambled to my feet and crossed my arms. I heard her voice carrying down the hall as she came closer. I scrubbed the twelve hour scruff that nearly covered my jaw. I had the beard growing ability of Sasquatch. I kept my facial hair in check, but when I’d met Maddie at the gym, I’d been coming off a three day stretch without any public appearance commitments and had let it get a little unruly. If I had been clean shaven, we never would have been in this predicament. I couldn’t fault her for not recognizing me. If she had known, she probably would have told me to fuck off the minute she spotted me.
Maddie rounded the corner, tossing her long waves over her shoulder. She’d taken it down before she and Patty came back onto the set for the results of the final round. All I wanted to do as the annoying ass host droned on and on was run my hands through it instead of maintaining my composure and cranky screen personality.
“Night, Patty. Thanks for the drinks. See you in the morning,” Maddie said as the elevator doors closed. She fished through her bag for her room key and pulled it out with a victorious, “Aha!” Her smile immediately fell when she saw me waiting. Instead of turning or keeping her distance she picked up her pace and pushed me out of the way when she got to the door. Maddie jammed her keycard in the slot and yanked the door handle until it gave way and the door flew open. She darted inside and shoved it back in my face.
“We need to talk, Madeline,” I growled as I stuck my foot in the room to keep her from locking me out.
“Nope.”
“Will you just let me in? We have to talk about this.” She dropped her shoulder and rammed into the door. I hissed and jerked my foot out of the way, “Dammit, Maddie—you’re gonna break my fucking foot! Just let me in.”
“Get lost, Luke,” she spat, throwing the name I had used when I introduced myself at the gym back in my face.
“Hey, you’re not off the hook here either. You didn’t tell me who you were or why you were here.”
“I didn’t lie,” she countered. “I said I was here for work. I just didn’t tell you what that work was.”
“When we came back here after dinner you said you liked to bake!” I shouted as I stopped dicking around and pushed my way inside, slamming the door behind me so we could have it out face to face.
Maddie threw her hands in the air, “Not a lie! I like to bake!”
“That’s like Lebron James saying he likes to play basketball or Simone Biles saying she’s kind of the G.O.A.T.!”
Maddie tossed her bag onto the bed and turned back to me. “You said you were in acquisitions and oversaw business consolidation, so excuse me for not giving a shit about semantics.”
I lifted my ball cap and ran my hand back through my hair. “It wasn’t a lie–I have a restaurant group and that’s mostly what I do now.”
She took two long strides and before I could blink, Maddie was nose to nose with me. “You didn’t tell me you were Luca DeRossi.” The vile way she hissed my name made it sound like it was laced with poison.
“I just have one question for you, Madeline,” I sneered as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you hate me because I’m rich and successful or because I’m a better chef than you?”
Hate flashed in her eyes and the freckles on her cheeks tensed as she wrinkled her nose. “Fuck you, DeRossi.”
I looked down and saw the dip in the neckline of her tank top. Just like the one she had on last night for our date, this one made me laugh inside as I read the lettering that said Way too pretty for prison. Accurate. Her full breasts strained against the lacey bra-thing that peeked through her tank top. “You didn’t think that when you thought I was just Luke,” I countered as my voice dropped into a seductive growl and I grabbed a fistful of her tank.
“You tried to sabotage me all fucking day,” Maddie said as she stabbed my chest with her finger.
I raised my hands in defeat and took a step back. “Maddie, listen to me. You won. Fair and square. I didn’t screw you over.”
“You were ten times more harsh with me than any other contestant and you know it. You were trying to make me lose.”
I scoffed, “So, what—the great Madeline Dorsey can’t take a little heat? I wasn’t trying to make you lose.”
She walked past me and opened the door. “You need to leave.”
“Mad—”
“Lose my number, Luca.”
I turned to face her. “I meant what I said—I had a great night last night. But here’s the thing I can’t figure out—why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
She locked her jaw. Her nostrils flared with seething rage. Her voice trembled with adrenaline and anger as she said, “Get out.”
I edged closer and pushed the door shut. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were. Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing here?”
Maddie’s hand shook like a leaf against the door handle, “What, so you could get me thrown out of the competition after we made out last night?”
“Is that what this is about? That stupid contest?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted it. Maddie looked like I had punched her in the face, and honestly, I kind of felt like I had. She was still riding high off her win and I came in and pissed all over it. “Maddie—” I began, my voice dropping into a gentle tone.
She wouldn’t even look at me. Her eyes were trained on the floor. “Please leave.”
“Maddie, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I said please.”
“Mad—”
“Do you always make it a habit to be a jackass?” She’d choked down the hurt and replaced it with unfettered hatred.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” I pressed again.
“Why would it have mattered?”
I laughed at the ceiling and shook my head. “I know who you are.”
“I’m nobody.”
“You’re not nobody, Madeline,” I said as I trailed my fingertips down her bare arm. “I know exactly who you are.”
She crossed her arms and held the door open with her foot. “You don’t know me at all
.”
“Maybe not as well as I want to, but I do want to know you, Maddie.”
Maddie shook her head. “There’s no reason for you to be here. Go.”
“Mad–”
“Go, Luca,” Her lips pursed as the corner of her mouth began to quiver. “Whatever this was? It never happened.”
I straightened out my ball cap to shadow my eyes and shoved my hands in my pockets. I walked out and lingered in the hallway, waiting for her to slam the door in my face. “This isn’t over, Maddie. Not by a longshot.”
“Goodbye, Luke.”
It was the most cutting possible thing she could have said. She wasn’t saying goodbye to me, she was saying goodbye to who she thought I was.
My phone dinged with a notification as soon as the valet pulled my car around and I tapped on the screen to see what it was about.
* * *
@XOMaddieLeeDee - 05/29/21 - 2:02 AM
When someone is two faced, just know that you can’t trust either of them.
* * *
Okay, so maybe I had created a fake account so that I could follow Maddie without her knowing. I didn’t exactly want to reveal that I had put two and two together and knew she hated my guts. Why she hated me—I had no idea. It definitely went further than a little harsh critique from across the judging table. That was for damn sure.
One thing was certain—I’d be seeing Madeline Dorsey again whether she liked it or not.
7
———
MADELINE
I had never been so thankful to be back in North Carolina. I craved my routine. Back to the grind. Back to being myself. Whatever had come over me in California was a thing of the past. At least for a short time, I was $50,000 richer and was home just in time for Memorial Day.