The Hotshot Chef: A Billionaire Holiday Romance (International Bad Boys Set Book 3)

by JA Low

  “I appreciate you trying to save my ass with the network,” I tell her while rubbing my hand through my hair.

  “I’m going to be honest here… Quinn is your only chance of getting back to Spain. I’ve pitched the idea of you two working together to the bigwigs. They love it. They have given me carte blanche to give you two everything you want or need for this to work successfully. If not, they want season two of Hotshot Chef from you, like tomorrow.” Lettie lays it all out for me.

  “And what about Quinn?”

  Lettie lets out a heavy sigh. “From what I’ve heard… they might force her and Chad to work together. They don’t know what else to put her in.”

  Shit. We’re both screwed.

  “Anyway, I better head out and find Quinn. LA is not the kind of place for a girl like her to be roaming around unsupervised.”

  “Text me her number. I know some people who can help find her.”

  “You do? Thank you, that would be brilliant.”

  My phone dings a few seconds later, and it’s Quinn’s number.

  “Okay, fingers crossed we find her.” And with that, she’s gone.

  I try Quinn’s number, and it goes to her voicemail. I forward her number to Jackson Connolly, who owns a security company. I met him through the Dirty Texas gang. He’s done work for their record label, and his brother is the drummer in the band, Finn Connolly. Not five minutes later, he’s found her. I grab my keys and step out the door.

  I head on down to Santa Monica where her location is flashing. I find a park near the beach, but I can’t see her anywhere.

  Goddamn! This is not the place to be hanging out alone after dark by herself. I follow the little flashing sign, and she’s on the beach.

  “Quinn,” I call out into the darkness. “Quinn, are you out there?”

  Nothing but silence greets me.

  She has to be around here unless someone has stolen her bag and thrown it somewhere.

  “Quinn,” I call out again and again.

  “Over here.” I hear a faint voice.

  My eyes try and adjust to the darkness. “Quinn?” I call out again.

  “Here.” I see movement with the help of the moonlight.

  Oh, thank God, she’s okay.

  My feet move quickly through the sand until I collapse on my knees in front of her. She looks up at me with those goddamn doe eyes, all innocent and shit.

  “Well, thank fuck. Lettie is worried sick about you.”

  “My battery just died. I’m a little lost, and I…” She sniffles her unshed tears. “I wanted to come to the beach to clear my head.”

  “Let me text Lettie and let her know you’re okay.”

  “No.” Quinn reaches out and grabs my arm.

  “Quinn, I have to. She’s worried sick.”

  Her hand falls away. “I know.” She runs her finger through the sand making squiggly lines. “I just need some alone time to think.”

  “I’ll text her to let her know you’re safe and that I’ll be bringing you home when you are ready. How does that sound?”

  She nods her head in agreement.

  I type out a message to Lettie, letting her know Quinn’s safe but needs a moment, that I’ve got her and will bring her home safely.

  “Thanks for that.” Quinn lays back in the sand and looks up at the sky. “I miss the stars,” she mumbles into the darkness, a small shiver cascades over her as the cool night air hits her exposed skin.

  “You’re cold.”

  “Yeah, I know.” But she doesn’t move.

  This girl is maddening.

  I lay down and pull her in me. She snuggles into my warmth.

  “That better?” I can feel her cold skin through my thin T-shirt.

  “Yeah, but don’t think this means anything,” she warns me.

  I let out a defeated sigh. “Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?” Staring up into the inky dark sky, I miss the endless kaleidoscope of stars I can see back home in Spain, unlike LA, where there’s so much light pollution.

  “I guess I owe you an apology,” she mumbles into my chest.

  “No. Not really,” I tell her because, in all honesty, she doesn’t.

  “Wasn’t very professional of me.”

  “I wasn’t very professional either,” I confess. She turns and looks up at me, a little surprised at my admission. “I was… what do you say? Hazing you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I was a dick. I took my frustration over my contract with the network out on you.” She’s in the same predicament as me, if not actually worse.

  “Thank you for saying that,” she almost whispers as I absentmindedly run my hand down her arm, which makes her shiver. “And I want to apologize for being on the hot-mess express.” She chuckles.

  “I think we’ve forgotten that you’ve had your entire life taken away from you.” My fingers run along her skin taking in the softness as I touch her.

  “I don’t know who I am anymore without Chad and the show,” she confesses, which is understandable. Everything she owned—work and personal—was wrapped up together in a nice big bow.

  “What do you want to do?” Posing the question to her I want answered.

  “I’m not sure. That’s why I thought I’d come to the beach. Perhaps the crisp night air would help me decide.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “What do you want?” Quinn throws the question back to me.

  “I want to go home… to Spain. I miss my family and friends. I miss my old life. I thought running away to America would help me start afresh, but I feel like it has turned me into someone I didn’t know anymore.”

  “I think that’s exactly what has happened to Chad. The bright lights. Beautiful women. The money. It has turned him into someone I don’t even know. Someone I don’t want to know. He was always about wanting more, whereas I was happy with what I had. I loved my job, and I loved the show. I didn’t need to be world-famous. I didn’t need to go to Hollywood parties, but he did. I guess I could see it happening, but, in the end, I didn’t want to recognize it.” Her hand absently moves over my stomach sending tiny sparks of electricity to my dick.

  No. Now is not the time. Think of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to deflate any movement you might have down south.

  “Greed can do crazy things to people.”

  Quinn nods her head in agreement. “So, tell me about this vineyard you’ve bought in Spain.” Her hand continues its slow movement over my abs. It feels perfect.

  No. Stop it.

  “I purchased it from the internet sight unseen, from an elderly couple who wanted to retire. They have a little boutique winery selling Cava, which is Spanish champagne. There are a couple of rundown buildings on the land, but it’s nestled atop a mountain. The view stretches over the vines as far as the eye can see. Where the green of the vines meets the blue of the sky.”

  “Sounds magical.” Her voice is soft, angelic.

  “It is. I want to create a cellar door with a rustic, fine-dining restaurant. Maybe some boutique accommodations, too.”

  “I love it.” She sighs, curling in closer to me. “You sound so happy when you talk about it.”

  “I do?” I’m surprised by her assessment.

  “Yeah. I can see it… rustic stone buildings, maybe the walls are a little whitewashed. Inside… neutral, earthy tones. Nothing too over the top because you don’t want to take away from the view. Woods. Linens. Leather even. Masculine and refined. Just like it’s owner.”

  Quinn looks up at me as I look down at her in amazement that she got what I was thinking just from my explanation. The cool sea breeze swirls around us, and with it, my hand slips from her arm and cups her ass, which brings her leg up over mine. Reaching down, I push away her blonde hair that the wind seems to have picked up and covered her face. Her tongue slides along her pouty lips. Does she want me to kiss her?

  “I think we should do the show together,” I tell her, and not because at this moment I might want to sleep w
ith her, but because I feel like she gets the project.

  “You do.” Her eyebrows rise in surprise.

  “Yeah, I think it might be good for us.” Running my fingers down over her cheek, I watch as her eyes flutter shut at the action.

  “Good, as in… we don’t really have a choice.” She gives me a small grin.

  “Yeah. There’s that, too,” I agree.

  “Might be fun.” She moves and places her chin on my chest. “The only thing is...” my brows pinch together at the but in her comment, “… we have to be professional. Like what we’re doing now, that’s not a good idea.”

  “Why not?” I’m genuinely confused by her comment.

  “We don’t want to give the media the wrong idea, do we? They are already circulating that there’s a story between us. Your reputation precedes you.” She raises a brow at me as my hand is gripping her pert ass.

  Maybe she’s right.

  “But we probably have nothing to worry about because I’m not your type, am I?” Quinn throws my words back at me as she rolls off me and stands. I watch as she shakes the sand away from her body. My dick groans as my eyes focus on her tits bouncing as she does.

  Heaven help me.

  Miss Miller is a bombshell, and I need to forget how she feels wrapped around me.

  8

  Quinn

  Tonight’s the night of the network’s fall show line-up and the first time I’ll be seeing Chad in months.

  I’m a mess.

  Over the past month, we have finalized our show with the network, signed the contracts, both of us ensuring we have read every fine little detail and run it by our lawyers this time before signing. Once bitten, twice shy, and all that!

  After my hot-mess meltdown, the next day the media had created a frenzy about Sebastien defending me in front of his restaurant. The headlines were splashed across the gossip blogs.

  Quinn Miller Takes a Walk on the Wild Side.

  Quinn Miller Not as Innocent as We Think.

  And on and on.

  I had to laugh at the ridiculous stories they had concocted about the two of us. Lettie was frothing at the mouth over the coverage, and about how desperate people were to see Sebastien and I together.

  Chad called me the next day and gave me an ear full over hooking up with Sebastien Sanchez’s reputation and how that would make him look.

  As in, how this would affect Chad.

  Yep. I totally burst into fits of laughter in his face over that comment.

  Was he serious?

  I told him that he didn’t care how him cheating on me and getting engaged to someone else would make me look. So, I sure as shit didn’t give two fucks about what it looks like for him.

  Yeah, he didn’t understand how his personal life would affect me, yet mine affects him—total narcissist.

  By that night, news of my breakup with Chad had been announced publicly. Of course, his publicist hadn’t contacted mine, and the release was utter bullshit. It went on about how we had been separated for a year, but because of the contract with the show, we hadn’t announced anything. That he wasn’t looking to fall in love again, but Zara came into his life and swept him off his feet.

  It was all utter bullshit.

  I wanted to scream when I read the articles.

  Then I found out that Chad had blocked me on all socials.

  He’s such a dick.

  He did the same to Lettie, but she was able to search via another account. He had deleted all my pictures, and instead, there were millions of him and Zara posing half-naked.

  I rose above it all and left the photographs of him on my accounts—I don’t need to erase my past like that. It’s been hard, but the more dick things Chad does to me, the better it makes me feel that we are no longer together.

  “You look like a goddess.” Lettie grins at her handy work.

  I’ve spent the afternoon being prodded, poked, and buffed to within an inch of my life for tonight. Lettie suggested that I need to break the mold of my old life with no more All-American country girl. She thinks I should be channeling a sophisticated European woman. Which means my hair has been cut off to shoulder length. She told me no more Daisy Duke style shorts or flannel print tops. She even hired a stylist for the new show—she wants to completely scrub the image of the old Quinn away.

  I’m really not a hundred percent convinced, but hair can grow back.

  The stylist dropped off some designer dresses for me for tonight. Each one worth a staggering amount of money. They wanted to ‘slut up my image.’ One hundred percent their words, not mine, but I put my foot down. I think that will be what people expect from someone who’s broken, showing off to the man what they’re missing, which Lettie and the stylist eventually agreed with me. I told them I wanted to look grown-up, classy, a professional woman, someone you could take seriously, and here we are now.

  “I love it.” Twirling around, the most gorgeous evening dress swirls with me. It’s a black, long-sleeved evening dress with beading, but the beads end just under my ass, and the rest is sheer beads to the floor.

  It makes me feel all woman and sexy.

  “You’re going to be the belle of the ball.” Lettie grins. “Chad is going to choke on his coconut milk when he sees you.” I give Lettie a look that tells her, ‘I don’t give a shit what Chad thinks,’ and ‘that this is for me and no one else.’

  Finally fighting through Friday-night traffic, we arrive at the red carpet, and then we wait for our turn in the line.

  “It’s going to be okay. Just take a deep breath,” Lettie tries to reassure me. “Show them the new Quinn Miller.”

  I can do this.

  I can do this.

  I can do this.

  I try and pep myself up while we slowly move up in the traffic jam. Eventually, we make it to the front of the line, the door to the car opens, and a handsome usher holds out a hand for me to take to exit the vehicle.

  Light flashes practically blind me.

  The first thing I hear are the screams of my name from the media.

  I used to hate walking the red carpet, but Chad always held my hand and gave me the strength to strut with him. Shaking that thought from my mind, I straighten and take the first tentative steps on the carpet. I stand in front of the large logoed network sign, pose, and do my thing, all while the photographers scream questions at me.

  Blank it out.

  Blank it all out.

  “Sebastien,” I hear Lettie call out. “Go… join Quinn.” She pushes him toward me.

  He looks amazing, dressed in a black suit that fits him to perfection with a black dress shirt underneath, leaving a couple of buttons undone showing off tanned skin. He hasn’t shaved, so there’s a light five o’clock shadow across his chiseled jaw.

  Sebastien turns and stops for a moment, those molten chocolate eyes run up and down my body as if he’s drinking me in. A small smirk falls across his plump lips, then he joins me in front of the photographers who go wild noticing him step up beside me. He places a large hand on my hip, pulling me into his side. Taking in a deep breath, I savior his cologne, all woodsy and male. Damn, he smells good.

  The media screams questions about whether or not we are dating. We ignore all the questions.

  “You look phenomenal,” Sebastien whispers into my ear, his lips touching my heated skin, sending prickling heat all over my body.

  “You don’t scrub up so bad yourself.”

  “How are you feeling?” he asks.

  “Like I’m going to hurl.”

  He chuckles. “Don’t think it would go well with your gorgeous dress,” he jokes, trying to put me at ease. Then without notice, he takes my hand and walks me off the red carpet to the screams of questions from the media. He doesn’t let go of my hand until we step inside.

  “You did so well,” Lettie tells me.

  “Here.” Sebastien grabs a couple of glasses of champagne from the waiter and hands one to Lettie and the other to me. “You’re going
to need it.” I take a sip of the bubbly liquid hoping the alcohol will ease the twisted knot in my stomach.

  “You two looked so good on the red carpet together,” Lettie tells us. “Those vultures were eating it up.” I glare at Lettie. “Stop it!” Lettie warns me. “You two look great separately, but together… wow,” Lettie exaggerates. “You’re like an eclipse and your beauty blocks the sun for everyone else.”

  Sebastien gives me a what-the-hell look over the rim of his champagne at Lettie’s words.

  “Oh, hang on, I’ll be back,” Lettie tells us before disappearing into the crowd.

  “Is she always like that?” Sebastien asks.

  “Um… no… that was a new level for sure.”

  “Has you know who arrived?” He looks around the crowded room.

  “I’m not sure. I can’t wait for this whole thing to be over.” Surveying the room too, I am desperately hoping that I don’t see Chad. “I think it’s the dread of seeing him for the first time.”

  “If you want, stick close to me tonight. I can help steer you away from any uncomfortable conversations.” I watch as he lifts his champagne glass and finishes the last of the bubbles. I watch his tanned skin move with each gulp.

  Why is that sexy? Um, just no.

  What the hell is happening to me? Maybe I need to get laid.

  I mean that’s what Lettie keeps telling me. She even suggested that I hire a gigolo just to get the awkwardness of a rebound over with. Don’t think I’m quite at that stage yet.

  “Thanks. Lettie promised me she would be my right-hand woman tonight but—”

  “I’ve got you,” Sebastien leans in and whispers to me. The warmth of his breath along my skin sends it into flames. Maybe I should think about investing in a one-night stand, so I can stop thinking these crazy thoughts about my co-star which are ridiculous.

  We spend the next hour milling around talking with guests and executives. Sebastien’s had to fight off numerous advances from women, which honestly, has been funny to watch him squirm as they practically shove their over-inflated chests into his eye line.