Conflict of Heart

Chapter 4

Jenny blinked in surprise at the sudden hostility in the usually pleasant chef's expression. She looked between the two culinary masters and anxiously began fidgeting with her fingers. "Oh, you two know each other?" she asked, attempting to keep things as cordial as possible despite the clear rising tensions.

The last thing she had expected was for their introduction to go in this direction.

"Know each other? Bah!" Alfredo yelled as he pointed a sausage-like finger at the small woman. "She was my greatest rival back in Paris!"

Danielle Fettuccine raised a silver eyebrow, placed her hands on her hips, and shook her head with a taunting smile. "Oh, my dear pasta dish, you wish that you could have rivalled me."

"What!"

Isabella and Rosa both had to hide their smiles behind their hands while their father's shoulders shook with barely concealed chuckles, the muscles of his face aching from trying to smother a grin.

Alfredo stared long and hard at the small woman. The red on his cheeks quickly spread to the rest of his face and down his neck as his large frame quivered with scarcely restrained fury until he finally exploded.

"No, I'm not doing it! I refuse to work with her!" he shouted as he spun around to look at Jenny, his toque almost falling off his head from the sudden movement.

Jenny sent him an imploring look. "Alfredo, it's just for the next month. Surely, you can come to some sort of agreement on working together, right?" she asked in a gentle voice.

"I would rather eat scalded sauce!"

"Well, you should be used to that," Danielle retorted with a sweet smile.

The look Alfredo shot back at her was murderous, and he appeared ready to charge at her like a Toro Bravo being taunted with a red flag, his chest rising and falling with each harsh breath.

"Please, Alfredo," Jenny beseeched as she stepped towards the seething chef and placed a hand on his arm in an attempt to divert his attention. "Our twentieth anniversary is our most special anniversary yet. Can't you find it in your heart to help make it just that little bit extra special?"

"I would have managed just fine on my own, Madame," he replied in a gruff voice as he continued to glare at the petite woman standing by the car, his rotund frame tense with anger.

"Yes, I'm sure you would have, but I would really appreciate it if you could celebrate the day with us. Can't you work with Mademoiselle Fettuccine? It's just for a month."

Her soft plea and imploring gaze made the bristled chef's form ease, and he glumly nodded his head. But his ruddy cheeks were still flushed red from his irritation with the situation.

Jenny beamed. "Excellent! Oliver, please take Mademoiselle Fettuccine's luggage to her cabin. She will be along right after Alfredo has given her a tour of everything she needs to know."

The small Frenchwoman smiled, her petite features making her resemble a pixie. "Yes, I will be happy to see my new kitchen."

"Your kitchen!" Alfredo screeched, and a might huff left his lungs before he turned harshly on his heel and marched back into the mansion, muttering angry French curse words beneath his breath.

Everyone turned to see the newcomer not even fazed by his abrupt departure, and she offered them a pleasant smile before making her way after the seething man.

Once the door closed behind them, Jenny turned to look back at her family. Both her daughters and her husband all had their gazes locked on the floor, their faces reddening from clear restraint.