His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 31

Chapter 31

You need at least five bikinis,” Sophia declared dramatically, tossing a tiny yellow one onto my growing pile of clothes. “One for the pool, one for the beach, one for walking around like you’re not trying to seduce anyone, but totally are. One for posing. One for backup.”

“I don’t need to seduce anyone. Sophia, quit being extra,” I muttered, already overwhelmed by the mountain of silk and spandex building beside me.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, but I have plans, Emily. I need you to seduce someone for me. Don’t ruin my carefully curated vision.”

I groaned, picking up a neon green bikini that looked like it belonged in a music video and holding it at arm’s length. “This is half a napkin.”

“That napkin is $890 and made in Italy,” Sophia whispered reverently. “Put it in the pile.”

We were inside Braq&Blair, a boutique so luxurious it didn’t bother listing prices on most of the tags.

They just handed you champagne and gave you a look that said if you had to ask, you didn’t belong.

The place smelled like white roses, crisp air conditioning, and credit limits. The floors were gleaming white marble. Gold–accented mirrors lined the walls.

The lighting was soft and flattering, and a well–dressed attendant hovered nearby, nodding approvingly at every item Sophia flung over my arm.

Which, by the way, was a lot.

I was surrounded by racks of silk maxi dresses, barely–there swimsuits, sheer kaftans, metallic sandals, floppy hats, and sunglasses so large I could hide from the paparazzi I didn’t have.

Sophia held up a pale blue wrap dress that shimmered under the spotlights. “You need this. For sunset dinners. Preferably barefoot on the beach. Preferably with Liam.”

“Sunset dinners where?” I asked, exasperated. “On the edge of the world?”

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She didn’t miss a beat. “Yes. With a mojito in hand, hair blowing in the ocean wind, and Liam Black low–key undressing you with his eyes.”

I choked on the sparkling water I was sipping. “Sophia!”

“What?” she grinned. “Am I lying?”

I tried to compose myself, checking the tag on the dress. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Sophia. This dress is $4,800.”

“And worth every single penny of my brother’s bottomless bank account,” she said sweetly.

“Soph…”

She cut me off with a flourish of her manicured hand. “Relax. The man is loaded, Emily. Billionaire. With a capital B. I could buy this boutique and throw a themed party in it and he‘ d barely blink. The bank app won’t even send him a notification.”

“1

I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. “Still. I feel guilty. This is… a lot.”

“And yet,” she said, lifting an eyebrow, “not nearly enough. You’re going to St. Barts, not brunch in Santa Monica. You need to look like someone who belongs on a yacht making problematic decisions in designer sandals.”

I sighed and let her take over my financial destiny.

By the time we were done, I had seven swimsuits, three flowy sundresses, two slinky nightgowns that screamed oops, did I just drop my towel?, a beach tote, platform sandals, a black jumpsuit with a plunging neckline, oversized sunglasses, and a tiny be of designer sunscreen that cost more than my phone bill.

“Oh,” Sophia added as the clerk boxed everything in chic matte black bags, “and don’t forget the gold anklet. Island vibes.”

I stared at the receipt as the cashier tucked it away like it was state secrets.

I wasn’t sure if I should laugh, scream, or faint.

“Don’t look at it,” Sophia whispered. “Let Liam’s wallet deal with the trauma. Not you.”

She was impossible.

And also kind of wonderful.

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Chapter 31

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