Linguini Remy Novels & Stories

I asked them. "Plat hog." Luzo responded immediately. "Sik Alyu." Aklan said next. I gave them both blank stares and they let out a chuckle. "We will make it for you soon. Yours?" Aklan said with a smile. "Oh my God! Do you have a minute? Where do I start? Spaghetti Bolognese, risotto, lasagne, butter chicken curry, paella, fried rice, pho. And o god, don't let me get started on a good fill of tacos or fajitas!" I exclaimed happily.

He rubs his palms together, “What are we eating?” “How about pasta?” Catherine asked. “Linguine with shrimp scampi,” she said. Kenny glared at her. “I’ve worked here for a minute Kenny. Don’t be surprised, I know my pasta,” she said. “Not that Cathy, he’s allergic to shrimp,” Donovan said. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I would have killed you.” “It’s fine, you didn’t know,” Kenny said. “How about Pad Thai and ginger chicken,” she suggested.

Remy is practically salivating by the time I plate them and bring them to the living room floor. I don’t separate them. Just put them all in a large plate with sauce. Remy has an appetite, so I made a lot. Not too much, but enough to satisfy us both till dinner. She immediately pounces on the food, making me chuckle. She sure likes her meat.

“She’ll do a water as well. “I guess, I’ll just have a glass then instead of the bottle,” Lincoln says. The waitress walks away to get our drinks. “Since when do not have wine with your meals?” “Since I was prescribed heavy pain killers for my back spasms since I was attacked by a psycho,” Mommy says. “Now, you may like either the spaghetti aglio e olio, or Pasta alla Norma, or the amatriciana.” “That ama one is yummy. It’s like the carba no no, but with red tomato sauce,” I remember. Anton got me that the first time we ate here, and he had the carba no no and let me try it.

Red’s POV The restaurant was breathtaking. The interior was beautiful, elegant, and cozy. Large, luxurious chandeliers hung from the ceiling, adding to the charm. I felt a little self-conscious as I still hadn't changed and was in my school uniform. I ordered ricotta and parmesan gnudi with a glass of white wine, and Crow had a Florentine steak and champagne. We ate in uncomfortable silence, neither of us wanting to be the first to speak. We’d steal awkward glances at each other every so often, both waiting for the other to break it. The unspoken tension was high.

I quickly glanced through the menu and ordered Tagliatelle al ragú, it was my favourite italian food. "Will order the same and a bottle of wine for both of us" Liam said as he winked at me, I scoffed "so childish, I never said I wanted wine anyway" I muttered to him. "Were you saying something" Liam's mom suddenly asked. I quickly turned to her and chuckled nervously "oh it's nothing" I said as I slapped Liam's tighs causing him to hiss in pain. Mrs Benson smiled at us and shook her head, "you're both cute"

Dark wood, copper pans, a single table by the window overlooking the glittering city. “Sit,” he said, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt. I watched, stunned, as Dante, Dante Moretti, heir to half the underworld on the eastern seaboard, cooked for me. He moved like he did everything else: economical, confident, dangerous. Garlic and butter hit hot olive oil; the scent made my empty stomach cramp. He seared scallops until they were caramelized on the outside, barely cooked within, then tossed handmade linguine in a sauce bright with lemon and chili. A bottle of white from the fridge, something crisp and Italian he didn’t bother naming.

Frito Misto, Tricia’s Gnocchi with Scamper Sauce, Osso Buco, Insalata and Tiramisu. The sound of his voice as he speaks fluent Italian made my stomach flip over and over. Those butterflies that made their presence known since I met him at that club are flying high. Soaring as they send electric bolts all over my body. His voice alone was enough to turn me into a putty. This man draws attention to himself just by setting foot in a room full of people. He was wearing casual clothes, a gray Henley with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows over black jeans. His hair tousled messily, but he looks like he just came out of a GQ magazine.

Alessandro, though, just leaned back in his chair, his arm still annoyingly draped around her shoulders. “Are you keeping tabs on my dinner now?” he asked. I snorted, leaning back as well or trying to. The chair wobbled, and I had to grip the table to keep myself upright, “I’m just saying,” I slurred, “it’s not very gentlemanly to feed someone something you can’t even pronounce.” He smiled, “It’s risotto. Pretty sure I’ve got it handled.” “It's arancini,” Delilah said in the background but we ignored her.

Celeste had returned, this time with a slim copper tray balanced in one hand and Remy following behind her with the smug expression of someone who absolutely believed he had earned the right to make himself at home wherever he pleased. “Dinner,” Celeste announced. “Before you two decide to start brooding romantically and forget to eat.” Remy set down a stack of folded schedules on the coffee table. “Also, nobody told me room service included two legendary weirdos with trauma eyes and perfect cheekbones.” Riley snorted. “That your official academy greeting?” “It’s the best one I’ve got,” Remy said. Celeste uncovered the tray to reveal steaming bowls of herb rice, roasted mountain vegetables,