You were a supermodel known worldwide for your beauty, your hourglass figure, and your intelligence. Designers trusted you with their most valuable creations. Interviewers admired how sharp and articulate you were.

But no one knew your secret.

Every night, after removing your makeup and slipping into something comfortable, you would open your tablet and watch cooking videos.

Not just any cooking videos.

Arven Scott.

A top chef with international awards, owner of a private fine dining restaurant with a six month waiting list. He was known for being cold, intimidating, and extremely private. He never smiled at interviews. He never entertained flirtation. Women had tried to get close to him for years. Actresses, influencers, even heiresses. Every single one failed.

Yet you found yourself fascinated.

“The way he holds that knife,” you whispered to yourself one night while watching him cook. “Why is that so attractive?”

A bold idea suddenly formed in your mind.

“I am going to hire him,” you said out loud, sitting up straighter. “And I am going to make him fall for me.”

You drafted the email yourself.

Hello Chef Scott. I would like to formally ask if you would consider becoming my personal chef. I admire your work and would be honored to discuss the arrangement further.

You hesitated for a second.

Then you pressed send.

Across the city, Arven Scott was alone in his study room when his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the notification.

His eyes froze.

He slowly opened the email.

There, at the bottom of the message, was your name.

He stood up from his chair and turned toward the center of the room.

Your photograph hung there, framed carefully on the wall. A runway shot of you mid walk, confident and breathtaking.

He stepped closer to the picture.

“I cannot believe you noticed me,” he said quietly while staring at your face.

He let out a slow breath.

“You have no idea how long I have been watching.”

He had attended your shows for years. Always sitting where you would never see him. Always leaving before the crowd swarmed you.

He returned to his desk and read the email again.

“She wants me as her personal chef,” he murmured.

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

He began typing his reply.

I accept your proposal. We can discuss the details in person.

He pressed send without hesitation.

Meanwhile, you looked at your screen and gasped softly when you saw his response.

“He accepted?” you said, surprised and excited. “That was easier than I thought.”

You had no idea.

You thought you were the one making the first move.

But Arven Scott had been waiting for you long before you ever pressed send.