In the coastal city of Cannes, France, a perfectly romantic paradise for any kind of couples such as the boyfriend-girlfriend for vacation, the new-ly wed for honeymoon, or the old-marriage just wants to memorize their wedding day by the sea. And somewhere, among the coastal city, there is a man looking through the boysenberry-colored window from his own villa, sneering at those happy couples. His name is Francis Bonnefoy, (secretly) one of the top food critic bloggers in France.
His fame is well-known. Not only his skill at blogging but also his good-looking face is admired by the big number of people. The silky blond hair, and the ocean-blued eyes, and the solid body are his advantage to claim the spot-light. Although he is highly praised on many culture magazines, invited to many parties, surrounded by various Western beauties, he is still bored of his life. For he knows there is only one love for cusine in his heart.
He didn't randomly choose to be a food blogger. There is an untold story behind it. When he was a kid, he was raised in the best educational environment. He's the only child, so for him to attend top private schools and received one hundred percents scholarships are not at all surprising. But he threw all those things away just to follow the path of culinary world. To him, food is not simply just ingredients that are placed on any cold white porcelain plate, but it is something that shows both the potential of human and their soul through what they eat. Thus, before going into college, he have asked his family for permisson to open a small casual dining restaurant, (repeat) just only a "small" casual dining restaurant, in which he could be both main chef and manager at the same time. His father, Mr. Bonnefoy, has given the son a hard slap to wake him up and remind him to not squander the things that his family has provided: career, or fortune, et cetera... He was sad, was forced to smile, was teared up back then because of the prohibition of his parents; but still he did what they wished. And become an editor for a fashion magazine and CEO of his father's coporation until now.
Wait... What!? So, how could he be a food critic after all the shits happened?
Let's just say he got a side job, shall we? Two years ago, he secretly opened a culinary blog for food-lover communities and French gourmets as Mr. Bonnes - named after the inspiring combination of his name and the city he loves. With year of experience with numerous high classed restaurant and secret studying of a major of restaurant and hotel manager, "Bonnes" not only criticize about dishes, he also comments and shares his knowledge about fresh ingredients at various famer markets, or world-wide specialties. Gradually, "Bonnes" is getting embraced by French communites and global food lovers.
That's the whole story. And at the moment, everything happens peacefully. Nobody ever knows the blond who smelled of faint expensive cologne and lived in that worth-billions villa is the CEO of a coporation while being a food critic at the same time. Francis is now enjoying tthe way that the sea breezes embrace him then sighs under the soft sunlight, as he realizes that he is having a wonderful moment to relieve all the stressesfulness of his job.
"You have a new messege."
The electric voice that have came from the tablet called for his attention. He picks it up and checks the mail app. Normally, most of the contents from the mails of his co-workers, partners, relatives, and girlfriends are invting him to parties. But whoever they are, every single mail from them is a chance for him to experience different dining and to serve his lofty career as food blogger. Anyway, as he is checking, he sees an unfamiliar name from the latest mail.
"Dear Mr. Francis Bonneyfoy, my name is Arthur Kirkland, a journalist and editor from the Our Europe's Magazine, branched in London. The magazine presents every special story and culture event in Europe. We are very amazed all the great things of your father's coporation brought to Cannes. Hopefully, we will have an interview together for the May thematic of Our European's Magazine: Life Balance. I would like to do the interview at your place at 10 in this sunday morning. And don't worry. I know that your work place is re-built because of an accident from two months ago so I am certain that we cannot meet each other there. I am looking foward to your newest reply. Have a nice day, sir."
A silence lasts for couple minutes. Francis is confused. This is the first time, beside his father, a man will pay a visit at his villa. Well, only beautiful ladies are invited here, for "that purpose" of course. And press conferences or interviews will be done at the office. "It just seems I am stalked... Why did he know my work place is re-built?" annoyed Francis scolds, as probably because of the side effects of sleep deprevation, then resigned to accept the unfortunate reality by sending a response to that man.
"Yes, I'm willing to do it, Mr. Arthur Kirkland."
