Marry Me Chicken Once Upon A Chef Novels & Stories

she asks me, turning her eyes towards me, and putting me on the spot. “I was going to make some mashed potatoes and some barbecued chicken, maybe some cheese…..” “Cheese?” she exclaims, “You're going to kill that man either with a heart attack, diabetes, or even worse…. Who knows with you young girls anymore.” “What does that mean? If you're going to help me with his dinner, you would just tell me if he has a diet. You don't have to make me feel bad for trying to make something for him.“

Kathrine’s pov I couldn't believe I had burnt the chicken for our dinner! This was supposed to be my chance to show Bryant that I was mature, capable, and the perfect wife material. Although getting married to Bryant was a perfect and imaginary thought. Instead, I had proven I couldn’t even handle a simple dinner. But I wasn’t going to let it ruin the evening. Bryant had suggested we cook together tomorrow or even more, which only meant more time with him in close quarters. Besides, the guy had just delivered the pizza and I had already picked out a scary movie for us to watch minutes later.

I leaned forward, lips brushing the fork. “Funny.” The taste was just right. It hit every spot and I let out a sigh of relief. “That’s so good,” I mumbled dreamily. Hayden’s thumb brushed my cheek, wiping a stray crumb. “You look even gorgeous when you eat,” he muttered. “Oh, I see. You’re going full chef-and-flirt combo.” “Guilty,” he said with a grin. “But I do it so you can’t complain later.” I chewed thoughtfully, then muttered around the bite, “Not complaining. Actually… I might marry you just for this chicken.”

I noticed. He waited until I had a break. Leaned against the counter like he wasn’t a billionaire playing house in a chef’s world. It didn’t stop there. Damian’s arms crossed tighter when Marcellus leaned a little too close while inspecting my garnish. His gaze sharpened when the chef chuckled at something I said—a laugh that lingered just a breath too long. And when Marcellus offered to “show me a few techniques personally,” Damian practically stepped forward like he was about to intercept a pass.

I said with a frown on my face, He smiled and looked at me with mild understanding as he pet his tiger. I guess he finally won **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** * I never thought, I, Laura Vento would be playing housewife, but here I was in the kitchen with Maria and Juana—the mansion chef. Maris thought it would be a splendid idea to make Chicken soup for Matteo. I didn't know how to cook to save my life. In my defense, all I did was stripping. I never got to develop any other feminine attribute except my sexuality.

he murmured, in that smooth, smoky voice. My face heated as a lash of hot desire whipped through my core. I reached into my purse on his desk for my compact mirror and freshened up. If anything, this might what I would miss most when this marriage charade was over. The grip I had on my lipstick faltered at the thought.

But, I know one thing for sure which was me wanting to bring my uncles down. ***** (Author’s POV) . An hour later, dinner was served by a new Chef in town called Chef Marque. He was once a waiter at Sebastian Café. After getting a placement to work at Rose Restaurant, he became famous. Not only for his cooking skills, it was also for his handsome foreign features. Of course, women came to Rose Restaurant and it became a hit in just a couple of weeks. No one knew it was Laura Knight who had recommended him to join Rose Restaurant. She owned it. And she was the one that had taught him how to cook delicious recipes.

“Use your mouth. Pick up the belt.” – Four Years Earlier – February 14, 2021 9:52 a.m. "Fuck!” I coughed. Hard. The burnt chicken choked me. Smoke curls toward the ceiling. That was the second chicken. I was aiming for grilled chicken with garlic butter shrimp. Simple and perfect for a romantic dinner. Plus it was Jess's favourite. What I created looks like charcoal with ambition. I stare at the pan in disbelief. I am genuinely terrible at this. There’s only one option left.

Maybe a drink would help me calm my nerves, but then I realise that I need a clear mind for what is to happen. “No, thank you,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. The woman simply nods at me before turning to walk away. As she leaves, I sit quietly, waiting patiently as I listen to the fire crackle softly, filling the silence. I remain perfectly still, afraid that if I move too much, I will betray how unprepared I feel. This is a mansion. I am here to meet the man I agreed to marry... a complete stranger. All because my mother is dying...

Someone clapped softly. My stomach stayed strangely calm. The mayor’s eyes shifted to me. “Do you, Althea—” he began, and for half a second, hearing that name made my skin prickle. It didn’t feel like mine today. Not fully. Not honestly. “—take this man to be your lawful husband, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live? ” Silence wrapped around the venue. Everyone leaned in, expecting my “I do.” Expecting the perfect ending.