Story Chef Novels & Stories

She stood up and invaded the once quiet kitchen. "What are you- gosh, Cheeto, is my poor eyesight deceiving me, or those are really souffles?" He replied with a single nod, but that was enough to make the damsel melt in the puddle of what she'd call: biatch hours. And it's effing open. "I studied culinary arts, Spencer. I'm a chef, good grief. No need to gape." Oh. "Ate Bliss is also a chef, so that's how you guys met?"

“he’s probably the only other Lycan he can tolerate.” I let out a soft laugh. “The irony is… he’s impossible,” I tell him as I grab a piece of food. “This food is really good,” Lukas praised as he too took a bite. I nodded. “All thanks to Chester, our head chef,” I replied. “He’s one of the best cooks in the world.” For the next several hours, we spent time eating, drinking wine, and chatting. We also did a little work as well, but not as much as I was anticipating. We made a little progress when it started to get late, and I was getting exhausted.

Zee said that the chefs taking part in the competition were chefs from London and Russia. "These two chefs are very handsome and still young. If our husband saw them he would be humbled," She said and her assistant came in and said, "Mrs. Anderson, the two chefs have arrived, can they come in?" "Yes, please.* "Mrs Anderson?" I mocked her because her husband was more possessive than Louis. She rolled her pitch-black eyes as she said, "Yes, Jamie always tells me to introduce myself by his name. Whereas only he has the right to call me my name, he's crazy, isn't he?"

There was only one person she knew capable of such a thing, but she didn't see Edward anywhere. "Tell me, who exactly is this special chef you're referring to?" James asked the restaurant chef. "I'm sorry, Master James. I can't say," said the chef before turning back to Abigail. "Taste the food. Tell me if you still don't like it," he said. Abigail looked at the chef and noticed a small bead of sweat on his forehead.

’ I even heard once he had a Michelin-starred chef friend he often invited on days he was craving food of outstanding culinary skill prepared with high-quality ingredients. “I do. But none of those options prepare food that tastes like my mother’s cooking.” He suddenly said and I realized I had asked the question out loud. My eyes widened but he ignored my expression and continued speaking. “You managed to with that singular dish and now I want more. So, what do you say? Are you interested?” I shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, not expecting this turn of events at all. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Castelli, but I don’t think I—”

"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?"