All the tables in the lobby of The Moncrief were full, an occurrence which would not have been unusual during the late afternoon hours when guests used the spot to meet friends for coffee or a cocktail, but it was only 12 o'clock. There was little doubt in the minds of the employees behind the check-in desk that the reason for the sudden crowd was the presence of the very rich, very attractive and very eligible owner of the hotel.

Dressed in a dark brown blazer and jeans, Gabriel Moncrief smiled pleasantly at the interviewer sitting across from him. He had given several interviews to the Economist before, but it was the first time he was being interviewed by the forty-something senior journalist Tom Webster. Gabriel was fairly certain they had not met before, but for some reason, the man seemed to have a problem with him.

"Your decision to invest in the Turkish energy scheme has raised some eyebrows," Tom said now, leaning forward so the bald patch on the back of his head caught one of the spotlights. "Aren't you worried about political instability?"

"No." Gabriel folded his arms across his chest and let the mans thoughts come to him: Arrogant bastard. You think you're something special because your parents gave you millions to throw around? I'll expose you for what you are, then Sandra will see she has been wasting her time pining over you.

Sandra? Gabriel couldn't remember meeting any Sandras, had definitely never dated one, not that any of that mattered. His mouth twitched with wry humour as he shut his mind off from outside influences. So this idiot interviewer was going to ruin his career for a woman?

"No?" Tom cocked his head to the side. "Then how do you explain the fact that Lupus Corp is the only American company investing in the scheme? Aren't you just being foolish?"

Gabriel raised a brow as the man's voice rose on that last word effectively attracting the attention of their curious neighbours. Foolish? Yes, the journalist was foolish indeed. Didn't the man realise how many times his magazine had requested an interview with Gabriel before they received his consent? At a word from him, not only would Tom Webster be fired from his job, his name would be mud across the global business community.

Despite his growing irritation, Gabriel kept his voice low and expression civil. "As the CEO of a global company, my job is to look past personal politics and see the bigger picture. Turkey has a vibrant economy and a young population who does not shy away from hard work. Most importantly, the people are resilient." He raised his hand, stopping Tom when he looked as if he was going to interrupt. "In the past thirty years, they've undergone debilitating natural disasters, two globally triggered economic crises, a large scale cyber attack on their banks, a failed coup attempt and the influx of three million refugees from Syria. And do you know what happened after every incident?"

"What?" Tom asked begrudgingly.

Gabriel took a sip of his water, letting his opponent squirm. "They recovered in record time."

"Hah!" The reporter smirked, then looked around as if he expected the oblivious occupants of the lobby to join in his disbelief. "So what you're saying is, you are investing your shareholders money knowing full well that something might go wrong?"

"I can see that you don't have a mind for strategic planning, Mr Webster, so let me simplify it for you," Gabriel smiled. "I am investing knowing that even if there is a short-term problem, Lupus Corp will end up reaping the benefits in the long term."

Tom's nose flared. He might be a fool, but his reporter's training kicked in, looking for loopholes. "Are you implying that the CEO's of all other American investment companies are incapable of strategic planning?"

Gabriel was unimpressed by the triumphant gleam in the man's eye. "If you did your homework, you would know that over 4 billion dollars in foreign direct investment to Turkey was made by American companies just last year. The CEO's who have boards that haven't fallen pray to the fear mongering of the media are strategising right along with me, Mr. Webster. It just so happens that they find the manufacturing, finance and insurance sectors more lucrative than building clean energy plants with the Turkish energy scheme." Gabriel leaned forward, his eyes sparkling a dangerous blue. There were many in the business world who were familiar with the expression he wore now; it was the look he got when he had cornered his prey. "Those CEO's are correct of course, the fields I mentioned are more lucrative, but as Lupus Corp has a strong commitment to environmental conservation, making a few million less by playing our part in saving the planet made us choose this path."

Seeing that the reporter had now turned pink with embarrassment, Gabriel reached across the table between them and turned off the tape recorder. "Let's end the interview here."

"But -" Tom managed to splutter.

"Mr Webster," he cut the man off, having run out of patience. "The fact that you work for The Economist makes me assume, that you are normally quite good at your job. You must have worked hard to get where you are today, so I'm letting this sham of an interview slide. But you should keep in mind that reporters can't let their emotions dictate their actions." He turned away from the man and raised his hand to signal a blonde waitress who immediately rushed to his side. "This gentleman's tab is on me."

"Of course, Mr Moncrief." The girl nodded, sending a quick smile in Tom's direction.

Gabriel glanced back at the reporter who had yet to recover his ability to speak. "Stay. Eat. Drink. If you'll excuse me, I have some money to...throw around." Satisfied with the loose-jawed look the fool now wore, Gabriel headed towards the concierge desk.

The assistant manager of the hotel approached with quick strides, "Is your interview already finished, Sir?" She sounded surprised as she looked at her slim wrist watch. "Shall I ready your car?"

"No need, Delores." He looked around the lobby, coming eye-to-eye with several attractive women of varying ages, but not seeing the man he was looking for. "Where is Theo?"

"The vice presented left for Petrichor only a few moments ago." The manager pulled out her hotel phone, "I'll just call the restaurant."

"Wait." Gabriel held out his hand to stop her. It wasn't like Theo to take a lunch break. In fact, it wasn't like Theo to eat lunch at all. He was the type that survived on caffeine and power bars. "Are you sure he went up to Petrichor?"

"Yes, sir," Delores nodded with certainty. "The Vice President noticed that many of our guests were raving about Boston Buns, the new dessert they are serving in the restaurant. He said he wanted to try one for himself."

Boston Buns? Gabriel had a feeling he knew who was behind the new hit. It had almost been a week since Alex started working in the restaurant and he had yet to check on how things were progressing.

Gabriel had been busy, but he would have made the time regardless if he hadn't been avoiding the woman on purpose. After their last encounter, he realised that his conduct had been too familiar. He had given into a strange feeling that should not have existed to begin with and could have led his new Chef into having fanciful expectations.

The false start was his mistake, but now, after several days of distance, it was as good a time as any to put things on the right footing. Yes, he had to show Mama Fan that he was her boss, and she was just one of his many employees.