Love at Second Sight

By TicTac_05

8K 653 87

Zachary Sifton just inherited one of the best and largest chain of luxury hotels in the world, which is known... More

Author's Note
Character Aesthetics
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
In-Betweens
In-Between 1
In-Between 2
In-Between 3
In-Between 4

Chapter 15

222 23 0
By TicTac_05

Sometimes you have to be selfish to be selfless.

~Edward Albert

***

Days went by. Everything seemed well and good. Savannah had warmed up more and more to their friendly arrangement with each passing day. She was getting used to it. But, come what may, Zac couldn't. He still wanted more from her. But then again, he didn't want to—more like, couldn't afford to—lose what they had right now. If him asking her for more meant putting what they had in jeopardy, which it would, it was a massive no. That put him in a fix. Should he—could he—take the leap and ask her? What would she say? Would she take the leap too? Would she trust him enough to do that? Maybe if he earned her trust enough, she might just—

"What's it that's gotten you brooding so?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Zac told his brother. "You tell me, why are you always grumbling these days?"

"Oh, nothing. I seem to keep on running into Klutz. It's like wherever I go," Rhett waved his hands in exasperation, "she has to be there. In all her clumsiness."

"Klutz is?"

"Chef Reece's assistant. Ms. Fury."

"Abbey. Yeah. I understand. She's a tad bit uncoordinated."

"What! Tad bit? Oh no, no. She's way more than a tad bit uncoordinated. She's super-clumsy and she puts forth completely rubbish arguments when you point it out. And she does it every fucking time. That pea-brained woman."

Zac laughed hysterically. "Pea-brained woman?" he managed to say before he burst out again.

"Of course. She is a pea-brained woman. Have you met her? Dopehead." He shook his head, but a soft smile graced his lips as he said it. Yes, she was nothing like he'd ever seen before. She was different...in a unique kind of way. Sure, she acted like a total idiot every time they crossed paths, but now, in retrospect, it was kinda cute in its own way.

Though he didn't realize he was smiling, Zac did. And there was no way he was going to let this go. It was against every bro-code that existed in the world. Spiting your brother—even sibling, for that matter—topped the list.

"Are you sure she's a pea-brained, dope-headed lady?"

"Undeniably. She is the most stupid and idiotic person I've met. And I can't believe Savannah likes to work with her. Like how?"

"I see. So you can't stand her?"

"Absolutely not."

"Hm. And, you don't dislike her, do you?"

"Nope. I don't dislike her."

Zac grinned wickedly. "Right."

"What's wrong with you? Why are you smirking like that?"

"'Cause you said you like her."

"The fuck what?"

"You don't dislike her, you said so yourself."

"Yea—wait, what?" It took him a while to understand that Zac had pulled a fast one on him. And. It. Had. Fucking. Worked. "You asshole. You did it purposely, didn't you? You fucker."

"Did what?" Zac asked in faux innocence.

"You fucking twisted that statement."

"I claim of doing no such thing."

"You fuckhead."

Zac burst out again. "Sorry not sorry. You should've looked at your face, man. But admit it. You like her?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Not even a li'l bit?"

"Nope."

"Not even a little little bit?" Zac lifted his index and thumb fingers. "Like this much?"

"No. Not even that bit."

"Rhett..."

"Okay, okay. I might be liking her a very, very little bit?

"I get it..." He thought about how crazy he was for Savannah. "I completely understand."

"I know you do. That reminds me, what's up with you and belle?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"You both seem quite close."

"We're friends."

"I see. You sure that's it?"

"What're you implying, Rhett? Say it straight out."

"I am guessing...you have designs on her, do you?"

"I just might. But she can't give me anything more than friendship, at least not at the moment, so that's what I'll give."

"She can't? What is that supposed to mean?"

"She and I...uh, we have a...history. That's why."

"A history?"

"That would come under... uh, what was it? Yeah. None of your fucking business."

"So my business is your business. But yours isn't mine, huh?"

"Haven't you heard that recent Gen-z phrase 'my business is my business, none of your business.' Ring any bells?"

"Fuck off, asshat. Come home for lunch today—wait! Ah. I don't know why I didn't put this together. I see this now. You have lunch at the restaurant because you wanna see Sav, don't you?"

"None of your business," Zac lilted.

"Shut up already, asswipe. I am leaving. Mom's told you to come home for lunch today. She says she misses seeing your face nowadays."

Aw, he thought. His mom could be sugar-sweet sometimes. "Tell her I'll be there."

"Good. TTYL then."

—x—

These days Savannah's thoughts revolved around Zac more than she'd like. She didn't like that he occupied her thoughts so much. It was disturbing. Her mind-games shouldn't involve Zac at these many different levels. He was distracting her, and she might have started liking it a wee bit, not that she would ever admit to him. But still, why? It wasn't as if she was in love with her or anything anyway.

Liar, her conscience interrupted, you've always been halfway in love with him, baby doll. Admit it.

Maybe... No. Nope! She was not, in any way, in love with him. Whatever.

In the midst of her mind's chaos her phones dinged. It was Clair. Weird. She wasn't the person to contact, more so text Savannah during her work hours. But then again, her work hours were so absurd it was difficult for any person with a normal schedule to reach out to her.

She opened the text and read it:

Savannah, I'm extremely sorry to disturb you at this moment, I know you must be truly busy. But... We want to celebrate Stella's birthday tomorrow. She's finally free tomorrow after days of being locked up in her room. And it helps that it's a Sunday. I hope I'm not asking too much of you by saying this but, do you think you could come up with something for tomorrow? Please, it's a request. It'll make her day, she adores you. And though she won't know a thing about this, I know you being a part of this would make her the happiest person tomorrow. Let me know. I'll understand if you refuse, so don't feel any pressure.

She smiled to herself and replied:

Definitely. You have my word. Looking forward to celebrating Stella's birthday with y'all. Have a good day, Mrs. Sifton. 

That night she returned to the Villa at one-thirty. By the time she was done freshening up and changing, it was two. There wasn't much time left for her to sleep, so she settled for simply resting.

She was up in two hours and working in the kitchen. She didn't know a whole lot about any of the Siftons. But if she'd excelled in the profession any bit, she did know that chocolate never let down. A truffle cake, it was.

She sifted the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, sugar and salt in a large bowl. In another bowl, a smaller one, she beat eggs and vanilla extract together. Once she was happy with the fluff, she added the mixture she'd made of chocolate, butter and milk into it and whisked it again. Satisfied with it, she poured this mix into the dry ingredients slowly, folding it in between.

She put it into the preheated oven. And started working on the frosting filling. She melted butter and chopped bittersweet chocolate—one of the few things she'd sneaked from the restaurant's kitchen supplies—into a saucepan. Then she added in sugar and heavy whipping cream and stirred it in until smooth. She took the pan off heat and stirred it for a few minutes before setting it aside.

She checked the cake, it would still take a while for it to get ready, she decided. So, she started working on the ganache. Out of the remaining ingredients—semisweet chocolate and heavy whipping cream—kitchen supplies again—she poured the whipping cream into another saucepan and got it to a boil. Taking it off heat, she poured the boing cream into the bowl that had chocolate. She alternated between whisking and folding it until it was smooth.

She was so busy doing what she loved, she barely noticed Zac watching her. He was standing there without making a single noise, perusing her. When she turned around and suddenly saw him there, she was scared out of her wits.

"You idiot! Don't sneak up on me like that. Thank Christ, I didn't have a bowl or something in my hands. Had I had one, everyone would've woken up by now. Nuthead."

"Good morning to you too. Whatcha makin', Reece?"

"Chocolate Truffle Cake. For Stella's birthday celebration today."

"I see. Is this why you're awake earlier today, when usually, on Sundays, you're awake when I return from workout?"

"Partly, yes. I've been up for an hour and a half...or you could say for a day and thirty minutes."

"A day and—wait. You've been up for more than twenty-four hours? You mean to say you haven't slept at all?"

"No, not really."

"Fuck, Savannah. Go sleep for a while. Everyone's body needs rest. Goddamn you. Stop that and go."

"I am used to it, Zac. Relax. I've worked for seventy-two hours straight too."

"Holy hell, Savannah. Stop wearing yourself out. It's okay to let go sometimes."

"I know. But you need to know that I'm as stubborn as they come, so nothing you say is gonna make me take rest. I have promised Mrs. Sifton I'd take care of the food for today—don't you dare call her out on that—and so I will. Once I've decided, I've decided. And, that's that."

"Well then. There's no point if this isn't going anywhere, is there?" he huffed angrily.

"Nope. Go workout, go."

"Aye, aye, Captain," he saluted, and she laughed. Yes, he fist-pumped mentally, Zac - 15.

When an hour later, he came back, as usual, his shake was ready. Today, however, she seemed to be especially pleased with herself, because he saw something that looked pleasantly close to a chocolate shake.

"This for me?"

"Yeah."

"Is it really choc or is it just me?"

"Nope. I had some extra choc with me here. So I made chocolate and banana shake. It's not as healthy as it should be, I'd say it's fifty percent healthy and fifty percent unhealthy, and it's most likely gonna waste most of your workout, I know, but I thought you were entitled to uno treat day. So here you are," she explained, and nudged the glass further towards him.

"You mean cheat day, I guess."

"Nope. I mean treat day. After days of restraint and control and all that, if one day you wanna go easy on yourself, you shouldn't call it cheat day, right? It's a treat day."

"That logic works. It makes more sense actually."

"I know, I'm smart." She winked, making him roll his eyes, but laugh anyway.

"This is so good," he complimented her, slurping more of the shake.

"Hm, thank you. Happy treat day. It's gonna be a massive one, with all the food I'm making and all."

"I'm ready, booyah! Bring it on."

"Sure thing."

He watched her intently as she sliced the cake horizontally into three layers, lined each one with frosting and covered it with another layer. She did that twice before she used the remaining frosting to mask a few slip-ups and flaws in the cake. Then, languidly, she topped the cake off with the chocolate ganache she'd made.

"That looks so delicious."

"Not really. This is pretty basic, you know. I don't have a lot of know-how in the patisserie department. It's not giving me any sense of accomplishment at all."

"Shut up with that self-deprecating thing you've going on. It's stupendous, and you know that."

She snickered somberly. "If you say so."

She mixed the little bit of frosting that was left into the excess wad of whipping cream and whisked and folded it until she had the pale chocolate colored frosting she wanted. She put it in a piping bag that already had a nozzle fitted in and piped out 'Happy Birthday'.

"Does Stel-Bell sound nice? I mean, it occurred to me this morning when I was making the cake, like, I'm still making it, but, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." He chuckled. "And, I love Stel-Bell. I'm sure everyone else will too."

"Great." She piped out the rest and a satisfied smile graced her lips as she read the writing:

Happy Birthday
Stel-Bell

She exhaled. "That's the best writing I can get on cakes. It's not that great, but it'll work, don't you think so?"

"Fantabulous. That looks so brilliant. It will definitely work."

She made other foods, too, on occasion of the homely party. She got to know from Zac that Stella's favorites dishes were Spaghetti and Meatballs, Pot Roast and Fish and Chips. That was it then. She decided to add her twist to the first two and merge them into one single dish. It could be called Spaghetti and Meatball Roast, maybe.

She was delighted that she was one of the reasons for the look of felicity on Stella's face when she saw the cake placed in the centre of the table during breakfast.

"You made this for me?" she asked Savannah disbelievingly.

"Who else?"

"Oh my God!" She covered her mouth and rushed over to Savannah and embraced her in a tight hug. "Thank you, thank you so much. The cake is so wonderful and beautiful. God! I love that and I love you."

Savannah laughed, patting Stella's back. "I love you too, babez. Now cut the cake already."

She nodded and raced back into position. Just as she bent down to blow the candle, Rhett and Zac raised a plate full of leftover ganache and smashed into her face. Everything happened so quickly her brain barely registered it, until it did.

"Happy Birthday, Kiddo!" Zac yelled.

"Woohoo, happy birthday!" Rhett screamed.

"You rapscallion assholes. What the hell is this?"

"Language," Mrs. Sifton reminded them all. Naturally. If someone asked Savannah one phrase that reminded her of Clair, she'd've steadfastly said 'Language'.

Savannah swallowed a chuckle when Gerald sided with boys ignoring Clair completely, "It's your birthday, baby girl. It's justified."

"Dad!" Stella whined.

"Come on, now, baby girl, cut it, cut it."

"Wait!" Savannah interrupted. "Make a wish before you blow the candle. Y'all might not believe in this, but I do. So, for me, please?"

"Yeah," Stella complied. "Just for you." She closed her eyes for a moment, opened them, smiled, then blew the candles.

All of them sang the Birthday Song as she cut the cake. As for Stella, she felt eleven all over again. All the laughter, chaos, giggling and then some more. She felt so excited, thrilled, enthusiastic, nervous...everything at once. All of this home-party thing had gotten to her like nobody's business, she was so touched.

More so, by what Savannah had done. She wasn't family, nor was she to be paid for this, after all this wasn't a part of her contract. Then why had she done it? She wasn't obliged in any way, either. She'd made her such a gorgeous cake—all of it with basic home tools—and Stella was sure she had food items planned and to be lined up for the rest of the day too. Stella was extremely grateful for all of it, for her.

And, it turned out she was bang on. Savannah had devotedly done her homework. All the food items for the whole day were all the things tailor-made to her likes and dislikes. The mixing and merging she'd done with two of her favorites, Spaghetti and Meatballs and Pot Roast, whatever fusion she'd made, tasted delectable. Delicious. She was talented to the bone. Obviously, it was visible.

Finally, at night, she couldn't hold it in anymore, so she asked her straight-off.

"Why did you do all that for my birthday? It isn't like you're gonna be paid for it."

"I did it for myself, Stella. I feel passionate about feeding people, Stella. It's why it's my job, and it's why I did it."

—x—

How did y'all like the chapter? Do you think Savannah is selfish, or is she selfless? 

If you liked Chapter 15, please vote and comment. 

Thank you!!

Until next time... 

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