Tre Stelle Michelin Book In English Novels & Stories

****** TRANSLATIONS: Mio Prezioso: My Precious sono affamato: I am hungry Avrò tutti i gusti di te: I will have all tastes of you Deliziosa: Delicious Ti mangerò finché non mi pregherai di smettere: I'll eat you until you beg me to stop E indovina un po', non mi fermerò nemmeno allora: And guess what, I won't stop then either non ti muovere: Do Not Move

I shoved his hand off, glaring at him like I could kill him with a look. “I screamed because I was praying the ceiling would cave in on you.” He chuckled, satisfied. “Whatever the reason, still the best night of my life.” I almost snapped back again, but the car slowed, gliding neatly into a private parking area. Golden light from the restaurant canopy spilled across the hood, announcing a place reserved for wallets too fat and egos even fatter. Of course. An Italian restaurant. La Scogliera. The kind of spot you had to book a month in advance..unless you were a Romano.

And to avoid that, I have to make Carina understand it first. "Welcome, Mr. De Luca. This way please" the Maitré d at the restaurant tells me. I step aside to let Carina go first which she does, but not before throwing a glare my way. Did I mention how adorable she was? "Would you like anything, Mr. De Luca?" "What would you like tesoro mio?" "I would like her to get me another waiter. Probably a man, who wouldn't ogle my boyfriend"

“Chiara, if you’re upset, I’ll take you away for a few days. I’ll have Lucca accompany you, all right? We can go anywhere you like. Just don’t argue.” Her sobs quieted almost instantly. Chiara sniffled, then smiled faintly. “You’re right, Renzo. I shouldn’t get upset over people who don’t matter.” As if on cue, several guests at the table began chiming in, their tones syrupy with false sympathy. “Ms. Reinaldi, you have to try this,” one said. “The chef took inspiration from a Michelin-starred dish—it’s divine.” “My family just opened a hotel in the desert,” another added eagerly. “If you enjoy unique getaways, I’d love to invite you as our guest.”

11 ASTRID Theo let the valet take the Range Rover, and we stepped into the restaurant, the place covered in black wallpaper, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The lobby had waiters presenting hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne like it was an event rather than a restaurant. Theo walked up to the host stand. “Table for two, please.” “Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asked. “No.” Theo looked at her like that didn’t matter.

When we pulled up outside Giulia's shop, Ace turned to me with that expression I'd learned meant he was working up the courage to ask something. "There's this new restaurant in Trastevere," he said. "Supposed to have incredible seafood. I was thinking..." "You want me to try it with you?" "Only if you want to. No pressure." I found myself smiling despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. "Let me get through the day first. I'll call you this afternoon and let you know." "Perfect." He reached over and squeezed my hand briefly, his fingers warm against mine. "Have a good day, Victoria."

My mind is racing with different thoughts that I don’t even realize that Tristan is looking at me. “Hmm?” I ask, completely distracted. “What was that?” “Do you want to eat now?” Tristan asks gently, still that soft look in his eyes. Nodding, he takes my hand and leads me to the dining room, I stop dead short, staring at the table filled with delicacies. There are two bowls of handmade pasta simmered in truffle cream sauce, seared steak, medium-rare with roasted garlic potatoes and buttered asparagus. “I know it’s not much or not exactly restaurant-style, since you’re an influencer, you have probably visited tons of Michelin-starred restaurants, it might not live up to your taste though.” Tr

"Ranato said you didn't come downstairs all day. That ain't good. Let's go get some French food. I booked your favorite place." Ranato was the house manager. Cesare took me out to a Michelin-starred French restaurant. Before I even opened the menu, he spoke to the waiter like he'd done this a hundred times. "No cilantro. No oysters. Steak medium-well. Appetizer—pan-seared foie gras. No sweet sauce, black pepper instead. She doesn't like food too sweet." His eyes skimmed the menu. "For the main, sole with lemon butter sauce. Light on the salt. Her stomach's been acting up lately."

he says, using the hand that was just pressing against my skin to point across the kitchen. “Lucy, I’d love for you to meet Enzo Russo. His restaurant in Italy has been awarded three Michelin stars. He so graciously accepted my offer for him to fly out here and teach you some of his most popular and authentic dishes. He’s also agreed to allow you to film the entire experience.”

He nodded and stayed with the car. We entered the restaurant. Everything was posh, from the fine white linen tablecloths to the gold trim. The ma?tre d' ushered us to a private table within minutes. He was about to hold the chair for Leila, but I politely waved him off. Once she was seated, I took the seat across from her. "Would you like some wine before dinner, signore?" he asked in a strong Italian accent. I shook my head. "No, thank you."