Ritual Pasta Novels & Stories

"Oh! Wow! Sounds yum. You clearly outdid my idea." Sana, one of the betas, turned to Ria. "What was your idea?" "Red sauce chicken pasta" I internally scoffed. That sounded like regular weekdays lunch. Nothing special. Still, I nodded at Ria. "Oh, sounds good." "Whatever" Aiden rolled his eyes, rolling the sleeves of his hand. I tracked the motion, eyes wide at the exposed skin. Why was it so distracting? He merely rolled the sleeves. "Just serve already. I need to get back to work."

"I'll eat anything you cook, little chef." "Don't call me that. I'm not little." Why does she get riled easily by his words? He smirked. Moving out of his range, she cut her dough into pasta shapes and dropped them in the boiling salted water. She risked a glance at him. His hazels were amused and soft. It must be a trick of the light. The sauce was ready and the homemade pasta in minutes. Rie carefully prepared three plates and served their meal with fresh bread and sparkling grape juice.

A modern, all-white royal kitchen flooded with light, so grand and well-equipped that it left her momentarily speechless. She quickly regained her focus and began her search. After thirty minutes of opening cupboards and fridges, she realized there were no leftovers. Of course, she thought, billionaires don't keep scraps. Determined, she decided to prepare Pasta Puttanesca, a traditional Italian dish her mother had taught her. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the rich, savory aroma of garlic, capers, and tomatoes. Just as she reached for a plate to serve herself, a deep voice sliced through the silence.

Sophia's eyes began to glisten with fresh tears, and Damon felt a wave of irritation crash over him so suddenly it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. The pasta dish she was demanding—he'd only learned to make it because she'd claimed it was the only thing that didn't make her nauseous during her first trimester. She'd been incredibly particular about it too, insisting that the mushrooms had to be a specific type, that the truffle oil had to be imported, that the pasta had to be fresh, never dried. Because of her pickiness, even though he'd never been one for elaborate cooking, he'd forced himself to stand over the stove for hours, perfecting a dish that would meet her exacting standar

He stared at the pale, bloated tube of pasta, swimming in a pool of broken, overly oily sauce. The silence was suffocating to Ivana, as she tried not to look at him. Damn! It was fucking hard. Tardrain stared so intensely, it was as if he were trying to identify the strange species and to figure out what exactly she had cooked. He noticed it was Rigatoni she had used, which he never liked to be used for his creamy pasta, but then again, aside from that It looked strange, almost making him question if this was the exact creamy pasta that had been his favorite for years.

I don't think I could ever love another person, the way I love him. After ten minutes of debate we finally settle on rigatoni with white wine, artichoke and pea sauce. It's a fairly simple dish to make, and quick, which Is actually better because we still have many things to do after this. After a matter of minutes prepping the food, we start cooking. Beginning with cooking the rigatoni pasta, only adding the peas when there's two minutes cooking time left. While I tend to the pasta, Hardin grabs the frying pan and puts two tablespoons of the reserved oil from the drained artichokes in the frying pan over medium heat. He cooks the eschalot and garlic until they're softened, and as he finishe

I just wish someone could come to save me from them. " you will be reborn in the future Lara, reborn and confined to me, that is the essence of this ritual " Smiling his black eyes glitter from mischief "Don't worry about love, I will make you love me when we meet again I know you don't remember anything but I have to do this"

She couldn't help the admiration she felt towards him at that time. “And what are you making today?" Grace suddenly asked, her curiosity piqued. Dante looked over his shoulder at her, a sly smile on his lips. “You'll see. But if you must know, it's a special dish–Pasta alla Norma. It's a Sicily specialty.” Grace’s eyes lit up. “Pasta alla Norma? Sounds fancy." “It is," Dante replied, his voice teasing. “Only the best for you, my little stella."

Knowing the meal in question would be way more relieving. I take the dome off. My face flattens. It’s pasta and meat. Shredded meat rises up at the center as the pasta is layered beneath it in an expertise setting. Small leaves are over the plate as well with some kind of sauce. This doesn’t look like the everyday pasta meal. “Nope, I don’t know.” I say, keeping my eyes pressed on the food in front of me. It scents good. I can feel my stomach roar with a newfound craving for this pasta. “El gusto pasta with pulled pork, beef and mushrooms.” Killian says.

I nodded my head, well he wasn't as heartless as I thought. Rico went over to the covered pot and dished a plate of whatever Matteo prepared. He placed the plate in front of me, the sight I saw made me scrunch up my nose in disgust. "What the fuck is this?" I asked stared at the greenish looking food. Rico chuckled at my reaction. "It's called creamy avocado pesto pasta. Boss told Matteo to make it for you, in his words, 'your intake of junk food is unhealthy for the baby.'"