Chapter 71

Miriam's gaze brightened the moment she caught Gabriela's hesitation.

Everyone had an Achiles' heel.

Gabriela had always seemed untouchable, flawless in poise and charm, and Miriam had been racking her brain for a way to keep her close. Inviting her to help pack gifts had been nothing more than a delaying tactic.

So, Gabriela had a soft spot for lavish gifts?Excellent. A refreshingly uncomplicated desire.

Her eyes gleaming,Miriam cleared her throat. "These here are just Mr. Moss's gifts for the staff. Loretta's here for New Year's, so she'll be giving out gifts too,"she said casually.

Noticing Gabriela's ears practically perk up, Miriam pressed on. "I'll hand out mine too."

Gabriela could hardly contain her delight-the three of them would distribute gifts separately.

How could she not love that?

Loretta wasn't slow on the uptake. She chimed in at once, "Exactly. My gifts are reserved for those who spend New Year's here."

Gabriela's pulse quickened, her chest alight with giddy anticipation.

This family was obscenely rich.

One glance at Gabriela's spark-filled eyes, and Miriam was already hatching a fresh scheme to keep her anchored here.

While Gabriela busied herself packing those gifts,Miriam leaned toward Loretta, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.

After last night's failed scheme, Loretta's expression was wary. "You really think this will work?" she asked. "Of course it will!" Miriam said with confidence."Gabriela's got real feelings for Wesley. You just jumped the gun yesterday, and it spooked her into thinking she should leave."

Loretta discreetly rolled her eyes. That ridiculous stunt had been Miriam's brainchild, yet here she was,pinning the blame elsewhere.

"Just follow my lead," Miriam said. "This time, we make sure she stays. Feelings need time to grow too.Push too hard and they wilt."

Loretta held her tongue. Right now, getting Wesley to open his heart mattered more than picking a fight.

"Fine," she said at last. "But this is the last time I'm trusting you."

Before long, Gabriela had neatly finished packing every last gift.

Loretta glanced at the grand clock dominating the wall, then clapped her hands in feigned surprise."Is it that late already? I'll cook today. Gabriela, stay and have lunch before you leave."

Gabriela followed her gaze to the clock.

Ten o'clock sharp. Lunch? Now?

"Well, I..." She opened her mouth, but hesitated.

Those gifts were tempting, but another day here might only push Wesley's patience further.

Her well-paying job was worth far more in the long run than any lavish gift.

"After lunch, can I head straight back?" Gabriela asked.

"Of course," Miriam replied at once, her tone smooth.

"Once you're done eating, Mr. Moss's driver will drive you home."

Soon, Loretta set the last dish on the table, and lunch was ready.

When Wesley stepped out of his study and spotted Gabriela still lingering at the estate, his brows lifted in mild surprise, then curved in faint amusement. Whatever scheme Loretta and Miriam were brewing this time, he was almost curious enough to play along.

But the moment he sat down, his expression shifted.

The spread before him was a parade of everything he disliked.

Front and center: a daunting platter of onion purée-easily six onions pulverized into a single mound.

To his left: celery stir-fried with beef.

To his right: steamed fish blanketed in cilantro.

Braised ribs, which was the one dish he actually enjoyed, had been banished to the far end ofthe table, drowning under a tide of fiery chili peppers.

Even the tomato soup had not escaped;it,too,swam with onions.

Wesley's brow furrowed. "Did we change chefs today, Miriam?" he asked.

She gave a breezy laugh. "The chefs went home for the New Year. Your grandmother decided she'd do the cooking."

Loretta ignored his reaction, deftly lifting a rib and setting it on his plate. "Please, try some of my cooking."

Miriam's eyes, however, were fixed on Gabriela.

And right on cue, Gabriela spoke up before Wesley could. "Mr. Moss has a weak heart. He shouldn't eat anything that spicy."

Loretta silently retrieved the rib from his plate,replacing it with onions and meat instead. "Then eat this," she said matter-of-factly. "Onions are good for the heart."

Wesley was at a loss for words.

Loretta knew his tastes by heart, so why was there not a single dish on the table he actually enjoyed?

He was certain he hadn't done anything to warrant her displeasure. What was she up to this time?

"Go on, try it," Loretta said.

Catching the slight pause in Wesley's movements and fully aware of his aversion to certain foods,Gabriela cut in, "Mr. Moss can't stand onions. They make him queasy."

Loretta's brows lifted in genuine surprise. "Really?And how would you know that?"

"I occasionally take a part-time role at the company,making his lunch," Gabriela replied evenly.

Loretta shot Miriam a quick look, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them, before she said with a hint of reproach,"You're coddling him too much. A man shouldn't be spoiled. If spicy food is off the table because of his heart, then these are exactly what he should eat."

Without giving WVesley a chance to object, she scooped a generous mound of onions and celery onto his plate. "I put a lot of effort into making this meal. You're a grown man, still fussing like a child over vegetables. And you think you have the right to sulk?"

Her sharp tone was nothing he couldn't ignore. But staring down a plate piled high with onions, celery,and cilantro? That was another matter entirely. His jaw tightened, and a storm settled in his eyes.

When Wesley made no move to eat, Loretta let out a sharp huff. "Eat them or don't, but don't expect me to whip up anything else."

Wesley wasn't about to spar with her over a single meal. Setting down his fork, he leaned back in his chair, meeting her gaze with quiet composure.

At the company, Gabriela had long been accustomed to smoothing over his moods. Catching the faint tension in his expression, she stepped in. "How about I make something else for Mr.Moss?"

Loretta's mouth tightened, clearly unhappy with the offer, but she relented. "You're a guest, but if you insist... Oh, and keep it mild. Wesley can't have anything too salty."

In no time, Gabriela prepared a fragrant borscht with no onions and a perfectly braised carp.

It had been days since Wesley had tasted her cooking, and the moment he did, his mood lightened noticeably.

Loretta and Miriam each sampled the food and exchanged impressed looks, declaring it better than a professional chef's.

Once Wesley's plate was nearly empty, Loretta leaned forward. "Gabriela, since you're free over the holidays, why not stay here and work part-time? You wouldn't have to do anything except cook for Wesley."

Gabriela froze, caught off guard. "But..."

She was supposed to be on vacation. The idea of spending it under her boss's roof, constantly catering to his preferences, was hardly appealing.

Loretta said matter-of-factly, "He's clearly used to your cooking. Look how much he enjoyed it today.You should stay."

Wesley's brows arched ever so slightly.

This time, Loretta had a point.

Having Gabriela's cooking every day through the holidays would be a luxury worth keeping.

Sensing Gabriela's reluctance, Loretta asked, "How much do you make per day cooking for Wesley at the company?"

Gabriela faltered.

The truth was, she'd never been paid for it. She'd only taken on the role to repay that outrageously expensive women's suit, and along the way, had become his unpaid taste tester and grocery runner.

For all her twenty-eight-thousand-dollar monthly salary, it wasn't exactly easy money.

"Well," Loretta said, "| suppose we should give you more than your usual rate. I'll offer three thousand a day.How about that?"

She had no idea what white-collar wages looked like these days, but figured a graduate student shouldn't be offered too little.

Gabriela had been rehearsing her polite refusal, until that number hit her.

Three thousand! A day? Oh, she could live with that.

At that rate, she might just sign up to be Wesley's personal chef until the end of time.

Her eyes lit despite her best efforts to stay composed. Leaning toward him, she asked, voice tinged with anticipation, "Mr. Moss, do you think your grandmother's offer is workable?"

Wesley, catching every flicker of calculation behind her gaze, found her enthusiasm faintly entertaining.With the kind of smooth ease that came naturally to him,he replied, "Of course."