Chef Fang Novels & Stories

Either way, he needed to keep his composure. “Sorry sir, but that isn’t on the menu. We have Sweet tea, Lemonade, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi-“ “That isn’t what I asked for. What I want is your number.” Liam was starting to feel a little annoyed. He had been working since this morning. All he wanted was to finish his work shift so he could go home and rest. But instead, he had to deal with a troublesome customer. “Sir, I am only your waiter and nothing more”

The less they noticed me, the better. Once they finally finished their meal, I cleared the table, scraping plates and stacking them in the kitchen. My hands moved on autopilot, washing dishes, wiping counters, prepping for dinner. My mind, though, was somewhere else. In three days, Iron Fang’s ninety-sixth anniversary was coming up—yeah, just one day after my eighteenth birthday. Not that my birthday mattered to anyone here. The pack would be throwing a big celebration for the anniversary, and guess who’d be stuck cooking and cleaning? Me. Always me. They had head cooks and omegas who strutted around with fancy titles, but when it came to the actual work i was the one who do all the damn wor

Victoria’s stomach tightened. “She was performing at a big charity event. I was part of the catering team and was lucky enough to be allowed to prepare some dishes because of how big the crowd was. She tasted one of my dishes and asked to meet the chef. When she saw me, she smiled like she had found something that she wanted to own.” Sebastian’s voice grew quieter.

Someone massaged my back. “Goodnight, Mrs. Moretti,” one of them whispered. I woke up the next morning bracketed by brothers. I slipped out for a quiet moment, putting on a yellow sundress. On deck, the chef, Chat Chevalier, was already prepping. He was a lean, tattooed man from France, assisted by Sachin Singh from India. They were both strikingly handsome but talked only of their own mates back home. “Chat?” I asked. “That’s 'Cat' in French, right?”

Chris inquired. Paige froze for a moment, looking at Chris. What did he mean by asking this? Did he not believe her? "Of course, I made them myself," Paige replied, unconsciously straightening her posture to appear resolute. "Oh..." Chris nodded. "Why does it taste exactly like the ones Chef Willy makes, though?" Chef Willy was the pastry chef at the Jewells. Paige inwardly screamed, panicking as she looked at Chris. How did he figure it out?

So, there's no alcohol here," he replied. Ariana nodded. Ariana explored the apartment, opening every door and observing what was inside while Chris cooked. Shortly after, Chris called her. He had prepared a stir-fry with fillet chicken, sliced onions, and green bell peppers. Mashed potatoes and a few sausages accompanied the dish. Smelling the aroma, Ariana tried her best not to drool. "Does food really have a different smell when it's cooked by a skilled chef? Or is it just me being extra?" Ariana chuckled from behind the bar table.

Falcon’s last words sent shivers in his body. Falcon cut the call after ordering Amber. He took a bath and went to the kitchen. Cooking relaxes his mind and calmed his nerves. One of the best qualities of Falcon. He was a CAPO but his culinary skills were mind blowing. He knew Sixty three dishes worldwide and grilling his speciality. Whenever he wanted to get peace which was rare in his business. Falcon smiled at himself and searched for the ingredients for grilling. He thought of preparing grilled Salmon Salad with mashed potatoes with steak, Aspan's favorite. Odio l'inganno Dumb Pig non so chi sono. Posso demolirli facilmente ma prima voglio giocare con la mia preda..... vediamo fino a che

Jean shook her head, looking up at the sky. Placing my hand on her shoulder, I squeezed it. I knew this was a touchy subject for her. Her mate, Chris, was a wonderful chef. He was from another pack and moved to ours probably twenty years or so ago. After working a few different restaurants in the area, Chris and Jean opened up Ochoa. It was a higher end restaurant but they kept the prices low by using the local growers of the pack. It was and still is the best restaurant in the whole of the territory.

Please let me know your availability at your earliest convenience. Looking forward to your response. Best regards, Chef Alain Dufort I blinked, rereading the email twice. Alain Dufort—one of the most well-respected chefs in the industry—had noticed me? A thrill ran through me, followed quickly by a wave of nerves. How had he even remembered me from that contest? Sure, I had made it to the third place , but I hadn’t won. I glanced at Damian, who was sitting at the counter, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when he felt my stare.

He thought I was an excellent worker? I could sense Fiona fuming from across the room. I looked at her, and sure enough, she was bright red. Felix cleared his throat. “In that case, I think I would like to give the Royal Chef Badge to M–” “Stop!” Fiona shrieked. We all turned to look at her.