Novel & Cerita A Novel Kitchen

I said to them. “Okay,” “Good,” I waited till the kids went down. “You need to clean up , you smell like whiskey,” I said to her, closing the door behind me. I followed the kids downstairs. “Have you eaten breakfast already?,” I asked them. “No, we haven't,” Nova answered. “The maids?,” I asked. “Don't worry I will prepare breakfast,” I said to them. “Okay!!!,” “Where is the kitchen?,” “The cook's kitchen is on the fifth floor. But we have a dry kitchen here,” Nova said, leading me to another floor.

I picked up the card, carried it into the kitchen, and set it on the counter like upper-middle-class criminal evidence. The large kitchen of the Belsky house was already filled with morning light. White marble, deep green cabinets, copper shelves, windows facing the garden. Usually, this room belonged to Salma, a little kingdom full of the smell of bread, Russian soup, suspicious herbal tea, and remarks capable of slicing a grown man’s ego into paper-thin strips. This morning, the kitchen was too tidy. I opened the large refrigerator with every intention of staring into emptiness.

“Come with me.” My body sprang up at the command and I bit my lip at how jerky I was being. I followed his long strides into a contemporary-style kitchen. It was a large, bright space, all clean lines and sleek design with chrome accents. It was bigger than the entire apartment I and my sister shared, containing flat-panel cabinets, state-of-the-art appliances and a long, sturdy island. I was afraid of touching anything in case I left a streak of dirt behind. Mr. Castelli might just be a clean freak because everything my eyes landed on was absolutely spotless.

He hated waiting, and I wasn’t about to give him another reason to lash out. The kitchen itself was grand—like everything in Armando’s mansion. The countertops were sleek, black marble, polished to perfection. Every appliance gleamed under the soft lighting, making it feel more like a showpiece than a place to cook. It almost felt wrong to even touch anything. But I had to, so I grabbed the ingredients and got to work, my hands moving swiftly, making sure every step was done with precision.

What was I thinking? I turned my attention back to the task at hand. The kitchen had a modern farmhouse feel to it, with a huge farmer’s sink, light-green cabinets, stone countertops, wood beams, large windows that had a view of the backyard and forest, and an eclectic collection of mugs and plates in a glass cabinet. I was never much of a cook, but being in this kitchen made me want to learn. I opened the fridge to find a large plastic-wrapped plate. I pulled it out to see that someone had made me a well-rounded meal consisting of chicken breast, potatoes, and broccoli. Did Alex cook this himself? I didn’t see any indication that staff worked at this house as they had at Blake’s packhouse.

After an endless journey through the expansive corridors, we finally reached the kitchen. As I stepped inside, I was instantly captivated. The kitchen was a masterpiece, with high ceilings and gleaming marble countertops reflecting the light streaming through the oversized windows. Stainless steel appliances shone like jewels, and the large island in the center was adorned with a colorful array of fresh fruits. I was momentarily speechless, taking in the vibrant colors and the elegant design that felt more like a work of art than a place to cook. "Like what you see, gorgeous?" Cain's voice broke through my reverie, tinged with a playful teasing that burned my cheeks.

Ugh, Jake. When I finally found the food factory, I was shocked to say the least. It was the most elaborate kitchen I’d ever seen. Expensive knives shone brightly when I turned on the lights. The counters were a beautiful marble without a single blemish. It was so neat, I mentally applauded her. If I lived alone, my kitchen would look like a war zone. I pulled out a few ingredients for spaghetti from her huge gray fridge and got to cooking. Once the smoke extractor came on, I started the sauce.

A second later, I no longer stood deep within the earth, stalking through a restricted library. I was in a kitchen, a nice one from the looks of it. Everything was bathed in varying shades of grey and white, even the marble on the counter tops was the color of charcoal. There were no personal affects in the kitchen, no hint of personality beyond the clear modern styling of the room. The kitchen was stale with the scent of cleaner, most likely used just hours ago.

"Claire! Claire! She ran out of the kitchen to answer me. "What are you always doing in the kitchen?" "I am used to staying there ma'am." "It's not as if you are cooking." I saw the book in her hand, "Oh! You're reading a novel in the kitchen?" "Uhm, I am sorry ma, just that anywhere I stay I take it along with me." "That's fine, take this bag into my car." "Bye, ma." I waved at her while the gatekeeper opened the gate for me and I left. The car was very quiet and I didn't listen to music to disturb my ears.

She wishes she could have a sugar mama and personal bodyguard too. After what seems like forever, I hang up with her and finish exploring. I go from the bedrooms to the rest of the living areas. The kitchen is my favorite by far. There’s a double oven and glass top stove with eight burners. A huge see-through fridge and movable butchers’ island. Plus, all the accessories to go with it. It’s my dream kitchen, and I begin my research. Too many ideas hit my brain on what to make for dinner, as I haven’t done that in a long time. Sadly, I don’t have my culinary book. However, Justine has a few. Even finding a delicious Lasagna I want to try.