Accidental Cinderella

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Carlos Montigo is a restaurateur and celebrity chef. The former owner of South Miami Beach’s Prima Bella Donna starred in one season of Food TV’s You Want A Piece of Me?

He was born in 1972 in Madrid, Spain and raised in Paris, France. He moved to Miami, Florida after meeting Donna Lewis and together, the two opened Prima Bella Donna. The couple divorced in 2006 citing irreconcilable differences. Lewis is now sole owner of the restaurant and has employed three different chefs in the two years since Montigo has been gone.

Montigo was the center of controversy when a reporter for the Miami Herald initially set out to write a story about Montigo’s refusal of a Michelin star and in the process discovered that the chef had lied about his credentials.

Following the exposé, Food TV terminated Montigo’s contract on the show You Want A Piece of Me.

Lindsay blinked. He lied? Why on earth would a man who was seemingly sitting on top of the world fake his credentials?

She scrolled down to a list of resources the author used for the story. She found a link to the Miami Herald story and clicked on it.

Miami Herald February 10, 2006

Celebrity Chef Spices Up Resume

Carlos Montigo, the celebrity chef/owner of Prima Bella Donna in South Beach, who rose to fame on the wings of the Food TV show You Want a Piece of Me has caught his pants-on-fire. It seems Montigo, 35, falsely positioned himself as a culinary hotshot with hoity-toity credentials. In response, Food TV executives have relieved him of the remainder of his contract. They will show reruns of the episodes that have already been taped.

According to Montigo’s biography on FoodTV.com the chef claimed to hold a diploma from the prestigious Le Cordon Bleu culinary arts school in Paris. Au contraire, say school officials. “Our records cannot substantiate a connection between Monsieur Montigo and the school. He did not earn a Grand Diplome from our institution and should cease and desist connecting himself to Le Cordon Bleu.”

Also, he maintained he was formerly a chef at the Élysée Palace in Paris, the official residence of the French president. That assertion also was proven to be a lie.

Montigo and his representatives did not return phone calls before the publication of this article.

It was like reading about a train wreck. What would possess him to do that? How did he think he could get away with falsifying his background? When you’re in the public eye, you’re begging people to ask questions and snoop around. Well, that’s exactly what she’d ask him tomorrow when they met.

Her conscience protested.

It would be awkward digging up the past, rehashing things he probably wanted to put behind him—asking the tough questions was another aspect she’d found difficult about journalism.

She stared at the black-and-white photo of Carlos on the screen, a shot of Carlos in a leather jacket and a tough look on his handsome face, a publicity shot for You Want A Piece of Me.

But surely if he was promoting himself at the festival he had to know that media would ask questions.

She’d have to. It was her job—especially since Chandler wanted edgy.

Well, as edgy as you could get in a three-minute spot.

She searched some more and viewed Carlos’s Web site, which was all about pitching his new cookbook—published by Lone Wolf Press.

Hmm…never heard of that house.

It also had recipes and a bio that didn’t reveal anything new. It only mentioned his brief relationship with Food TV and his old stomping ground, Prima Bella Donna, in passing.

Nothing about the controversy.

The Food TV site was even less revealing. There was no mention of Carlos Montigo. It was as if he’d never existed in their realm.

She searched hundreds of articles that appeared in her Google search, but they were simply rehashings of the Herald article and didn’t offer anything new.

Until she clicked on one that showed Carlos and a attractive brunette toasting each other on a Mediterranean-styled terrace with a gorgeous water view behind them.

The title of the article, which was presumably written before all hell broke loose, was The Chef and His Prima Donna.

Lindsay skimmed it, wanting to know more about this woman who, according to the article, was no wallflower, and what caused their irreconcilable differences.

They looked so happy in the photo.

According to the article, equal parts of Carlos’s cooking and her charm were responsible for growing their Prima Bella Donna into the toast of the South Beach restaurant scene.

So this was his ex.

Lindsay studied her pretty face and the way Carlos was smiling at her. It reminded her of the way that Luc looked at Sophie.

But no! That was completely different.

Sophie and Luc were happy.

Carlos and Donna were…divorced.

Does love ever last?

How do you go from looking at each other as though the sun rose and set in your love’s eyes to being…irreconcilable?

She blinked away the thought. She had just opened a word processing program on her computer and began to write notes and interview questions when her cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Lindsay? It’s Sophie. How are you?”

Thrilled at the sound of her friend’s voice, Lindsay sat up. She set the laptop aside and swung her feet over the side of the bed.

“Sophie, hi! It’s so good to hear your voice, but why on earth are you calling me? You’re on your honeymoon.”

Sophie laughed. “Are you kidding? Do you think I could wait another two weeks to see how your meeting with Carson went? Besides, Luc went down to consult with the concierge about a trip we want to take tomorrow. So I have a few minutes. Tell me how it went.”

For a split second, Lindsay considered playing a joke on Sophie—like they used to kid each other when they worked together—she thought about saying she’d gone home without talking to Chandler…or better yet, that Chandler said, “Thanks, but no, thanks.” But she didn’t have the heart. Not when her friend had been so good to give her this opportunity, and she didn’t want to waste the precious little time they had to talk playing a prank.

“He offered me the job.”

Sophie squealed. “And?”

“And we start shooting tomorrow at the St. Michel Food and Wine festival. In fact, I was working on my interview questions. Oh, Sophie, I don’t know how I will ever repay you for this.”

“You can repay me by knocking the socks off Chandler…and your admiring public.”

“No pressure, huh? Couldn’t I just take you to lunch the next time I see you?”

They both laughed.

“Lunch would be good. Could we set a date for a return visit now?”

Lindsay sighed. “I wish we could, but with work, I don’t know when I’ll be able to make it back to St. Michel.”

“Oh, Linds, I’m so happy for you. Not to bring up a sore subject, but how did Mary take it? I’ll bet she had a fit.”

Lindsay sighed. “That’s putting it mildly. I thought she was going to reach through the phone and strangle me. I’ve never quit a job without giving at least two weeks’ notice.”

Lindsay cringed at the thought.

“Right, but she should understand you’re not just ditching her. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“I hope so because if not, I’ve just blown years of my life because Mary informed me she won’t give me a good reference—no way, no how.”

“Well, you won’t need one. Despite my prodding, Carson wouldn’t have chosen you if he didn’t see something special in you, Linds.”

“Here’s my idea.” Lindsay took a deep breath and placed Carlos Montigo’s press kit on the restaurant table in front of Carson Chandler. She, Paula and Sam were having dinner with Carson to firm up their game plan for the first show.

They still hadn’t ironed out the focus of the show. When they met back at the press tent, Lindsay, giddy with possibility, had spouted her idea. Even though she’d anticipated Paula being a hard sell, Lindsay had no idea that woman would be so disagreeable and dead set on her wine and goat cheese man.

It was clear that Paula was turning the show content into a competition when she grabbed the first opportunity to present her idea to Chandler—before they’d even been seated at the restaurant.

Chandler had nodded politely, and asked as they walked to the table, “But where’s the edginess in wine and goat cheese, Paula? Remember, we’re making the jump from run-of-the-mill to edgy and provocative.”

When Paula didn’t reply, Lindsay decided it was time for her pitch. She took a deep breath and twisted her hands into the napkin on her lap.

“Do you remember that Food TV chef, Carlos Montigo?” Lindsay asked. “The one who got the boot because he lied about his credentials? Well, he’s here at the festival and it looks like he’s staging a comeback.”

Paula grimaced as she opened the menu. “Why would you want to give him free press?”

“It’s not free press,” Lindsay said. “It’s a chance to give Carson the type of story he wants. Something with an edge.”

Lindsay glanced at Chandler to gauge his response, but he was staring at the menu. She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her. If he had, he didn’t look enthused.

Over the menu, Paula regarded Lindsay with arched brows and a smug smirk that gave her pessimistic mouth an ironic upturn. No backing there—no surprise. So, Lindsay looked to Sam for support, but he was busy buttering a dinner roll. For a moment, an awkward silence enveloped them.

Okay.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the delicious aroma of herbed bread baking in a wood-burning oven. The enticing scent of rosemary and thyme filled the restaurant and fueled her courage. Giving the napkin one last twist, Lindsay decided it was time for the new girl to prove her mettle.

“In all my research, I couldn’t find anything telling his side of the story,” Lindsay said. “This is a chance to ask him why he lied and to hear about his future plans.”

Paula closed her menu and shook her head, as if Lindsay had proposed a feature on The Wiggles or something else laughably inappropriate and ridiculous.

“Who cares?” Paula choked on an incredulous laugh, then pursed her lips as if stifling the urge to guffaw. She looked at Chandler as if she expected him to have the same reaction.

“Who cares?” Lindsay countered. “A lot of people would find the story interesting.”

“Maybe we can catch up with him for another episode,” Paula dismissed. “Since we’re in St. Michel, we’ll go with the wine and goat cheese theme.”

Chandler held up his hand. “Not so fast, Paula. You haven’t made a case for your goat man.”

Paula laughed again, as if she expected Chandler to join in on the joke. But his serious expression warned otherwise.

“I think Lindsay is onto something with the Montigo story,” he said. “Let’s move forward with it.”

Chapter Four

Carlos’s role in the food and wine fest was three-fold and simple: He’d host a one-hour, audience-interactive cooking demonstration; join five chefs in presenting a charity fundraiser “celebrity chef” dinner; and sign books at a launch party celebrating the release of his new cookbook, Carlos in the Kitchen.

The launch party, sponsored by the publisher, Lone Wolf Press, was his last event in the lineup. And, by all accounts, the most important to him.

There was a lot riding on this book.

As the taxi stopped in front of the Hotel St. Michel, Carlos tucked a copy of the new cookbook under his arm.

No one need know that Carlos and Max were the driving force behind Lone Wolf. It wasn’t ideal to self-publish and throw a party for himself. But his former publisher had dropped him and these days corporate sponsors were hard to come by.

The way he and Max had sheltered the publishing house, no one need be the wiser. Right now, that was the last thing on his mind. Things were off to a great start. Max, who deserved a huge bonus once they got on their feet, had secured an interview with the new host of The Diva Dishes. That interview was the reason he’d rushed back to the hotel.