Confession Restaurant Novels & Stories

"Are you enjoying the food?" Rafael asked her breaking the silence that have been in the large room since they started eating, she just nodded and continued eating, they were at one of those big dinners in Florida, what's the name again, Christner's Prime Steak & Lobster Orlando, Florida, their steak was top-notch, she could give a ten over ten to the chef, they were giving them a private service as they were the only one there, She sensed Rafael might have paid for the whole place, flex.

The confession was the beginning of becoming honest. For Night One of the new version: I want to tell you what I see when I look at what we built. Not a confession of what was wrong. A testimony of what became right. Not on my knees. Across a table. In the same restaurant. With tiramisu. The clean version of the first night. She reads it twice. Looks up. He's watching her with the look. The there-she-is look. "The tiramisu was pre-arranged," she says.

I said, smiling. Sophia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, really? How can you prove that?" she asked. I leaned in, a conspiratorial look on my face. "I can prove it because the owner of this restaurant is a close friend of mine. And I can assure you, he'll vouch for the fact that I've never brought anyone here before. This is my secret dining spot, my sanctuary. I come here to escape the chaos of my life, and I've never shared it with anyone... until now."

"Charleston, let's make our friendship a secret. I want you to make this plan with me, go with Brian to the restaurant, it's located at 2 May Avenue opposite Walmart. You know Clarence Restaurants?" "Yes, it's a popular one, I know it. I think one of my friends, not Brian took me there once." "Really?" "Yes," he nods his head. "How was their customer service?" I ask, trying to see if I can discover some facts from him. I know what's going on there, it's my personal restaurant and it's not something to relate to. I reserve it most especially for those I want to kill. We have two types of products, the poisoned ones and the good ones. If a random person comes in, our chefs who are all trained

"I think that if we agree to be honest with each other, we will avoid unnecessary headaches," warns Jonathan, occupying a seat on the sofa that circulates the table of the establishment in which we stop. A restaurant that apparently works for twenty-four hours. Boston is asleep in a sepulchral silence, the kind that happens at the end of the night and until the beginning of dawn, but this is perhaps one of the few places that it is precious for nighttime customers. “Sit yourself.”

"You have no idea, Hanord. Her hotness is melting me softly." "Then you're in trouble, my friend. You're trapped in her web as it is." They shared a long glance while rooted on the entrance. As they strode through the entrance of the transparent restaurant, heads turned toward their direction. An elegantly furnished building with a boldly written sign; Dinner Lina; blinking on its mouth. When out, anyone could see through the floor, the window glass walls spread around. Inside Dinner Lina, they were ushered into a private round table for six. Several mouth watering dishes spread out on the table runner. Digging in, their speeches were mild.

Mei frowned. “And he knows something about AIM?” Sarah answered quietly. “That’s what he said.” The convoy stopped in front of a warm, glowing restaurant on a quiet corner. A red sign hung above the door. Sam’s Place The smell of grilled food and warm bread drifted through the cold air. Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “This is the secret source?” John shrugged. “Let’s find out.” They stepped inside. The restaurant was cozy. Wooden tables. Old photos on the walls. It felt normal.

"Ah, I know! You must not know the restaurant that just opened three days ago, right? It's across the street from this building. Just go there." Arleena was actually just talking as an alibi. But Arleena realized she had to quickly catch Merliana's return conversation. "Really? Does that restaurant serve meat steaks?" asked Arleena, forced to play along to support her alibi. Merliana nodded her head. "Of course. It's a meat steakhouse. You should try it." Arleena nodded her head. Before she could reply, someone called her name. "Arleena! You haven't eaten lunch at all?!"

She gulped hard and carefully placed the trays of food on rhe big table, alongside the other maids. "Isn't that the confessor?" She heard one of the Kings ask and her heart gave a mighty leap. Oh! That was what she'd been so scared of. "Yeah, the last confessor' another sniggered. Isabelle tried to act like it was nothing as she successfully dropped her tray. But just when she was about walking out with the others, she heard her name: "Come back here - confessor" The voice was husky and she knew instantly it was one of the Kings.

Our meals are full of banter and stories that in any other establishment would have nearby patrons turning white in fear and disgust while calling the authorities. It’s strange having a partner in crime, but it’s nice having someone who isn’t family that I can confide in regarding all the gory details of my life, one who won’t be repulsed or demand I be committed. We’re both in the middle of our mains when I notice a familiar face exit the backroom. Suddenly picking Ambrosia feels like a colossally bad idea. What the fuck is Castor doing here?