The Billionaire's Mask

2

From the central kitchen, we stroll to the main hall and exit to a pathway toward a bridge to the left wing. Mr. Katrakis is taking me to a part of the house I haven’t seen yet.

There’s a terrace and an outdoor swimming pool on the second floor that overlook the city skyline.

“God! It’s beautiful. I can come up here?” I say as I walk to the metal and glass barriers of the balcony to get a broader view of the city.

“Of course, you can,” Mr. Katrakis assures me, stopping by my side.

“And I can use the pool?”

“No one will stop you.” He smiles. “No one comes here except for me and Lennie, and now you.”

“It’s amazing...”

The landscape glows blue over the white clouds. He is right; I missed the best part of the mansion during the house tour. Here, I fantasize diving into the pool or probably spending my free day lying under the sun reading a new novel.

“Now, why don’t we sit? Tell me more about yourself.” Mr. Katrakis perches on the wooden bench, then offers the space across from him.

I blink. “What would you like to know?”

“Well, I already saw your resume...” He scratches his chin. “How about telling me something that’s not on the paper?”

I hesitate. “I’m not sure if there’s anything else.”

He smiles. “Tell me more about your position in the Palazzo Franchetti. The head chef’s food taster, right?”

“That’s right,” I say nervously.

“You must have an exquisite sense of taste. Interesting.” He grins, amused. “That’ll make you an exceptional chef too. But why did you come here? To a mansion, to serve a master you haven’t even met yet when there are a lot of excellent restaurants out there where your talent is needed?”

“My previous position was my first job, and it didn’t give me enough experience for being a chef. Though I assure you that I can—”

He cuts me off. “That’s fine, Alayna. I understand what you mean, and as your new chef, I can teach you everything I know. Though I have to remind you that I’m very busy elsewhere, so you’re going to have to serve Brandon alone with your cooking. He’s the one who chose you for this job after all.” Mr. Katrakis grins again.

Oh, of course. The faceless Chairman Brandon Lucien will be the one I’ll serve, so he’s got to be the one to choose.

I remember my interview with some secretary at Grethe and Elga Enterprises HQ. I was curiously the only applicant back then. He only asked me a few questions, and that was it. I got hired without even having to cook a few dishes. I couldn’t believe it at first, thinking that it was peculiar. Then again, who would doubt the efficiency of a huge company like G&E Enterprises?

“That’s reassuring,” I say.

“And you grew up in Kansas?” he asks.

“Yes, in Lawrence, and I had never been anywhere else before I worked in Venice. I got my degree in culinary arts at The Culinary Center of Kansas City.”

“I’ve only been there once. Does your family live there too?”

“Yes.” I chuckle. “My mom and twelve adopted siblings.”

“Twelve!” He gasps in shock, then grins again. “Your parents must be good citizens in your town.”

“They were, but then Dad passed away,” I recall sadly. “How about you?”

“Me? What about me?” He stares; I’m not sure if he’s offended or confused by my question.

“Is there anyone else in the family living in this house?”

“No, it’s just me. They’re all in Greece,” he answers, simply and coolly.

I can’t decide if Mr. Katrakis is easy to talk to or if I’m complicating things with all my questions. I still feel a bit of awkwardness, but he doesn’t seem uptight. I decide to apologize anyway. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to answer my questions.”

He laughs. “It’s fine. I’m just surprised. I rarely talk about myself here.”

“Probably because no one dares to ask?”

Mr. Katrakis’ expression brightens; he’s amused. “You are so curious, aren’t you? I was born in Greece—Athens, to be precise. But I spent most of my time in New York. Studying, exploring, building things—all that.”

Oh, so he is Greek.

“That sounds productive,” I say.

“It was.”

“Then, how long have you been working for your cousin?”

“Ever since he’s needed me.” He sighs, his expression worried. “I can’t remember, exactly.”

“Oh.” I take his answer as no further questions, please.

“All right.” He clasps his hands together. “As for your job description, it’s not very complicated, but Brandon is very picky. He has a particular appetite, so each day, I make a menu for him to choose from. We must follow the menu and never improvise.”

“I understand, sir.” I used to work with the most ill-tempered head chef in the history of head chefs, sarcasm intended, when I was in Palazzo Franchetti. There, I was serving hundreds of customers a day and dealing with constant stress. So, I guess this is not so bad.

“Any more questions?”

I dare to ask about Brandon Lucien once more. “Will I ever meet him, then?”

He smiles. “It’s not usual, but I believe you will.”

Even if I don’t exactly understand what he means, I believe him. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t want to take away your first free day here. I’d better be going, Alayna.” He stands up.

I grin. “No worries, sir.”

“Sure. See you tomorrow then.” Mr. Katrakis shakes my hand again, softly squeezing it before marching away. After a short stroll around the pool, I go back to the central kitchen.

Familiarizing myself with the workstation, I open every single drawer, explore the cold storage, and take a look at the stock of ingredients. I’m thrilled to find rare, very expensive, and special spices from different parts of the world—ones you cannot buy at most grocery stores. My thinking is, since I have signed a one-year contract, I might as well get used to the massive kitchen.

I go back to my room after thirty minutes of reading the recipes and ogling the ingredients. I now have less than fifteen hours for myself. There are questions in my brain and new information I need to process.

The conversation I had with Mr. Katrakis lingers in my mind, and I want to know more about his cousin. I sit down at the desk with the glowing MacBook. I hope that this isn’t some sort of test and that I’m actually allowed to use the computer. I type “Oliver Katrakis” into Google—though I have already done this search a couple of times.

Hundreds of results pop up. I bite my lip, clicking the first link.

Oliver Katrakis is thirty–two and has been the CEO of Grethe and Elga Enterprises for five years. A Princeton graduate, double major, and award-winning entrepreneur. Besides his work, he has various interests and is gifted with many talents.

I exit the site and select the next.

G&E Technologies. One of the biggest firms owned by G&E Enterprises is now one of the leading IT companies in New York City.

Who is its faceless chairman, Brandon Lucien?

Who’s behind the success of G&E Enterprises?

Still, nothing about the Master appeared. I close the tab and open a social media site. I type his name in the search bar, and numbers of similar names appear, but none relating to the chairman. I shut down the computer, then go to bed.

What did I expect? Of course, he wouldn’t make a profile page on f*******: or something. He probably just wants his life to remain private. He wouldn’t be the faceless chairman for no reason. But why does he have to be so enigmatic?

I stare at my high ceiling, and questions just won’t stop flooding my head.