Chefe Novels & Stories

"So...." The man placed a hand on his chest. "My name is Chef Mastrano, at your service." He gave Lacey a slight bow and smiled. "What can I get for you?" Lacey shrugged. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. What do you have?" "You're the princess, right?" She nodded. Chef Mastrano sighed. "Well, most of the shifters like steak. How's that with a baked potato?" Lacey's mouth practically started watering at the thought. "Sounds great. Could you cook it medium, please?"

I looked up at Hunter with confusion to only get the same response in return. "Mr. Romani need I remind you that we have a deal. If you break that deal, there will be consequences." A deep voice says. "I have to pay all of the expenses and bills for my restaurant. I can't fully pay the money right now." It grew silent. Silence was deadly.

And for reasons I couldn’t explain, the headache behind my eyes pulsed violently again. This was no ordinary household. Wearing his uniform. And I had an uneasy feeling. When I entered the kitchen, he was already there, moving around like he owned the place. A few minutes later, the rude chubby woman from last night arrived. The tall man cleared his throat. “Good morning, everyone. My name is Chef Dylan Vincent. I’m the sous chef—head of kitchen operations.” He pointed at the chubby woman. “Station chef, Miss Sandra Jones.” She folded her arms, sizing me from head to toe.

he said, entranced by the way her lips curled around her cup and her face. Her smile broadened. "I'm glad to hear it," she said. "You're not too bad yourself, Monsieur Chef." His heart fluttered, and he resisted the urge to brag and tell her his actual chef name: Le Fromage. He was avoiding the limelight while he could, even if he could use it to impress people. He would simply have to show her sometime. That reminded him about cooking, and that he still needed to do some of that for M. Peluche. Who was still in the prison on this side of the city. And he lived on the other side.

I replied unsurely. "Okay good, I have been worried, I honestly don't know what to do. Our chef Rhoda is sick and the other chef just gave birth yesterday, The owner of this hotel will be visiting in an hour and I want you to prepare lunch for her, Can you do that for me, Olivia?" He said it too fast I could hardly comprehend it. I looked at him with a confused look on my face. He gave me a pleading look and I instantly knew he was desperate.

I said with a smile as she led me to the kitchen and did exactly as Ella had said. “My name is Sophie, please don't call me Ma'am, I am here if you need anything, the head chef will tell you what you should cook so just wait a while,” she whispered to me after introducing me to all the other chefs, they looked nice enough but my fear was that I was yet to meet the head chef, I had no idea who he or she was and what their temperament would be like.

I was used to relying on my senses to alert me when others were paying attention to me, and my shields kept me from being reminded of their presence. Chloe smiled as she saw my reaction. "Ah, look at her blush; leave it to Nix to get an innocent one," she said, shaking her head. "On a more serious note, I hear the cooks are hoping for more mushrooms, and one cook, Sylvia, is hoping for more truffles because there is a market trade coming up in a week, and they will fetch a good price."

I was invisible here, just like an obstacle in their little private world. "So, you're the one from the McAllister mansion?" The sudden booming voice nearly made me jump. I turned to see a familiar looking tall, burly and imposing man. I know this face as it was all over TV when I was in Paris– Chef Beau, the French Michelin star chef who has won the award so many times! Of course, who else deserves to be the head chef in the best hotel in the USA if not the best chef in the world?! And now I’ll get to learn from him, yay!!

"I think you know fully well who sent us Rebecca, oh sorry, let's go by your real name...Amanda." "Tom, slice the tomatoes!" Elena ordered as she walked round the kitchen. She was the head chef of the restaurant, had been for a month and few weeks now. "Kathie, this sauce isn't spicy enough," she said to the redhaired standing over the sauce pan. "But you haven't even tasted it," Kathie said confused. "When you're an expert chef, you don't need to taste the sauce to know that, it's all in the aroma and color," she said not looking back at Kathie as she walked away.

I knew him only as Domenico or la Bestia. “Mancini.” “So you’re not a Ferrante, but he has to follow your commands?” Something didn’t quite add up. There was animosity between them—I’d felt it before. We both had secrets, and I wasn’t sure if they would destroy us or set us free. “He does.” He stood. “Go take a shower. I’m going to order some food.” At the mention of food, my stomach rumbled. “I’ve been on the edge of starving for weeks.”