Traveler Book Restaurant Novels & Stories

It’s as if she has cast a spell on me. The waiter comes back to check that everything is okay for us, I tell him it is perfect. He nods and leaves us after topping up our wine. Kenna murmurs as she places a piece of tuna wrapped in rice with sesame seeds into her mouth. “So fucking good, unbelievable. This restaurant is amazing, Xander.” I smile, glad that I have brought her to somewhere that impresses her. “What books do you like to read? I know you were always in my library back home, you loved to read. Is this something you still do?”

The food began that evening. Don had the list from the food book and he approached it with the methodical pleasure of someone who had been looking forward to this specific part of the trip and was now in the condition of its being available. The first restaurant was near the Rotunda — a small place, the kind that did not advertise itself, that a person needed to know to find. Don had known to find it from the book.

he asks me. “Yes, I heard they have good food in human restaurants,” I tell him. We keep driving and in thirty minutes, we are at The Roselyn Restaurant. I make note of the name as Theo opens the door for me and leads me inside. When we get in, we are taken to a secluded table and we are given menus.

I'd better order up some food. As I reached for the telephone on the bedside table, I immediately stopped. An image flashed in my mind. It was a restaurant. The restaurant was called BISTROS. As I tried to make out something from it, another image flashed before my eyes. I saw a woman. A jolly grey haired woman who shouldn't be more than fifty. She was a cook. It instantly came to my knowledge that Israel does eat from only two places: BISTROS and this lady. I remembered his words about people gunning for him. A man of such power and wealth always breeds up enemies every seconds.

“Thank you, Mr. Sinclair. You won’t regret this!” *********************************** The restaurant was as extravagant as I’d imagined. The air smelled of freshly baked bread and spices, and I really did feel a pang of hunger as we were led to a quiet table in the corner. Travis didn’t speak as he scanned the menu, his expression unreadable. I, on the other hand, flipped through the options with the enthusiasm of someone who had just won the lottery. Before I could decide, a sharp, honeyed voice interrupted my thoughts. “Travis?”

Just certain. My body betrayed me before my mouth caught up. “Fine,” I muttered. “One dinner.” The restaurant was small, tucked into a side street that smelled of basil and old wood. Candles flickered in wine bottles, menus printed on parchment someone had tried too hard to make rustic. He ordered without looking, like he knew the place by heart. “Do you always haunt bookstores and drag strangers out to dinner?” I asked, sipping water I didn’t need. “Only the interesting ones,” he said. His grin had too much gravity to be casual.

“But maybe just a little break? A place to eat, relax… let’s go to my spot, No one watching, Just… food. You can tell me about your day if you want.” I hesitated, measuring risk and trust. Then, after a long moment, I nodded. “Okay, Just a little while.” He gave a small, approving smile. “That’s all I ask.” We walked in silence, alert to the few pedestrians and gulls overhead. My bag stayed close to my body, instincts on high. The small restaurant was tucked down a side street, lights warm, smell of bread and simmering sauce welcoming. Tourists rarely noticed this place. We slid into a corner booth.

Maybe he’s flagging down a waiter? I turn in my seat, craning my neck in the direction of Blake’s gaze. Yep, flagging down a waiter. Our waiter, hopefully and not some random one. I’m ready to get my grub on. I’ve been researching the different restaurants on the ship and this one just popped out at me. I’ve been reading reviews and looking through everything. My inner foodie is determined to try at least a few of the best restaurants on board. Maybe pretend that I'm a food critic and write out a whole spiel about the atmosphere and the colors and all that jazz.

The mouth-watering aroma of the food drew Noreen's attention away from the photograph. "Sir, you ordered dinner here?" Noreen asked in surprise. "Yeah. I don't really like eating at restaurants, unless I book them just for me so no one else interrupts my meal," Thiery said. "Book a restaurant?" Noreen asked. "You mean, the whole restaurant, just for you?" "Sometimes a few Betas and a bodyguard, too," Thiery said. "Gosh," Noreen muttered. "It's a waste, but it must be quite nice. No gossiping, faster service, and no sold-out menu items."