At 11:00 PM sharp, I arrived at the address. Sure enough, it was a posh hotel. I walked up to room 1042 and knocked on the door. I heard the door unlock. I quickly entered the room and closed the door behind me.

"Did anyone see you?" Chef Ramsay asked.

"No… I don't think anyone's interested in following me around," I smiled back at him.

Chef Ramsay was dressed casually. I don't know if it was thanks to a personal stylist or the man himself, but Chef Ramsay always looked superbly stylish. This time was no exception. He was wearing a royal blue button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone. The shirt complimented his skin color amazingly well. To complete the outfit, he had chosen matching dark blue jeans. I felt grossly underdressed in my knee-length floral print dress and roman sandals.

I took off my shoes at the door and looked around the room. His suite was incredible. It had a full kitchen and a balcony with a magnificent view. Off to the side I could see what looked like a cast-iron bed in a massive bedroom. As I was admiring my surroundings, Chef Ramsay walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me. I felt a chill down my spine. This didn't seem right. He swept a strand of my hair away from my face, carefully tucked it behind my ear and gently caressed my cheek. As he kissed my lips tenderly, I felt a warm sensation wrap around me from head to toe. I instantly relaxed. I knew I was in Gordon's arms now.

Gordon poured me a glass of red wine. Something ridiculously expensive, was my guess. Though I wasn't a huge fan of fancy wines (mostly due to the type of people they attracted), I had to admit that this one was delicious.

"Come," he said, motioning me to move over to the couch. I sat down with him.

"What's this? Chef Ramsay being… nice?"

"Oh, come now, I'm not all bad, am I?" he laughed, his eyes lighting up. "I didn't want things to end so suddenly."

As we sat face to face, I studied him closely. For the first time I saw him up close without heavy makeup. His eyes were a stunning shade of blue, his hair an earthy blond with bleached tips. His skin showed his age. His forehead had deep frown lines and the corners of his eyes had crow's feet caused by wide, heartfelt smiling. All his emotions were visible on his face; he clearly wears his heart on his sleeve. His chin was scarred from the laser treatment he'd had to get rid of the deep wrinkles that used to dominate his face. I gently caressed the scars. They made his skin look like it had been burned in an accident. His face was so ruggedly beautiful, wrinkles and scars and all. I silently prayed he would not get any more work done. I never wanted him to change.

He moved closer to me on the couch and rested his hand on my thigh. For the first time I saw kindness in his eyes as some kind of a bizarre schoolboy charm had come over him. It suited him very well.

"You know…" He began, pausing slightly. I could tell he was choosing his words very carefully. "I miss my wife. She's the most amazing woman I know."

I was starting to feel very uncomfortable. I didn't want to hear about his wife, why was he telling me all this?

"I miss touching her. It's not like I can go up to just any random person to get some affection, can I? That would be an absolute PR nightmare. Not to mention the hissy fit my wife would have over it! Jesus, I can't even imagine…"

Oh. I think I finally understood what was expected of me. I snuggled up to Chef Ramsay, wrapped my arm around him and laid my head on his chest. Though I knew I was nothing more than a surrogate – a placeholder – to him, it felt too good to complain about. This was probably my only chance of receiving any affection from Chef Ramsay; I'd take whatever I could get. I was like a puppy, starved for his attention.

Just as I was starting to enjoy the situation I'd found myself in, he groped my chest. "Honeymoon's over", I thought, "back to business".