She Teaches a Beginner Cooking Class, Unaware That Her Favorite Student Is Billionaire Who Loves Her
The Billionaire’s Secret
As Everett walked out, she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that he wasn’t just another student. There was something about him she couldn’t quite place. Little did she know, Everett Palmer wasn’t just a man struggling to make pasta.
He was a billionaire, and he was hopelessly in love with her. Gabriella stood at the counter of her cooking studio, wiping down the marble surface as the last of her students filtered out.
The evening’s class had been eventful as always, but her mind kept circling back to Everett. She thought of the way he had lingered at the door and the way he had asked her to dinner with that quiet confidence.
She exhaled, willing herself to push the thought aside. It wasn’t the first time a student had flirted with her, but Everett was different.
He wasn’t just charming; he was comfortable, like he belonged in her space despite his complete lack of culinary skill. A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
She turned, expecting a student who had forgotten something, but instead, Everett stood there, relaxed as ever, holding a small paper bag.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said before she could speak. “But I’m not here to ask you to dinner again.”
“Not yet, anyway.”
She crossed her arms, amusement flickering in her expression. “Then why are you here?”
Everett stepped inside, placing the bag on the counter. “I attempted to make pasta on my own today. Thought you might want to judge my progress.”
Gabriella arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “You cooked without supervision?”
He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’m not completely hopeless.”
She pulled the bag open, peeking inside. The pasta was unexpected; some pieces were oddly shaped, others too thick, and it was obvious the sauce had separated. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
Everett watched her reaction carefully.
“Be honest,” he said.
Gabriella lifted a particularly unfortunate-looking noodle. “It’s…” she hesitated, meeting his gaze. “It’s ambitious.”
A chuckle rumbled from his chest. “That bad, huh?”
She softened. “You get points for effort and for not setting your kitchen on fire.”
“Progress,” he mused. “So what’s my next step?”
Gabriella looked at him, considering. Most students took their lessons and went home, but Everett was different. He wanted to improve—not just in cooking, but in something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
After a beat, she grabbed an apron from the hook and tossed it at him. “You’re staying.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Right now?”
“If you’re serious about learning, I’ll give you a private lesson. But I’m not going easy on you.”
Something flickered in his eyes, something warm and unreadable. “Deal.”
She guided him through the steps again, this time slowing down. She made sure he understood why things worked rather than just following a recipe.
He listened intently, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with something more focused. At one point, his hand brushed hers as he reached for a knife, and she felt a jolt of awareness shoot through her.
She pulled back, clearing her throat. Everett didn’t comment on it, but his gaze lingered on her for a beat too long before he turned back to the dough.
An hour later, they stood side by side staring at the finished dish. Everett leaned in slightly, inspecting his work.
“This actually looks edible,” he admitted.
Gabriella nudged his arm. “Now taste it.”
He twirled a forkful of pasta and took a bite. His brows lifted in surprise. “Not bad.”
She waited. He chewed thoughtfully before conceding. “Okay, actually good.”
Gabriella grinned. “Told you you just needed the right teacher.”
Everett turned to her, something unreadable in his gaze. “I think I’ve needed the right person for a lot of things.”
A strange warmth spread through her chest, but she ignored it, stepping back. “All right, lesson over.”
Everett watched her for a moment before nodding. “Thank you, Gabriella.”
She didn’t know why, but the way he said her name felt different—heavier. As he gathered his things, she glanced at him. “Same time next week?”
Everett hesitated before answering. “Actually, I might be out of town for a few days.”
That caught her off guard; he never missed a class. “Business?”
He nodded. “Something like that.”
Gabriella tilted her head, curious. She had never asked what he did for a living, assuming he was just another professional looking for a hobby.
But now she wondered. Everett seemed to sense the question forming and gave her a small knowing look.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
With that, he walked out, leaving Gabriella more intrigued than ever.
