“Well… you wouldn't blame me‚” I murmured.
"Sit down somewhere. I'm cooking."
"You're... cooking?"
"Is that so hard to believe?"
"Honestly? Yes. I assumed you had a personal chef. Or maybe you just absorbed nutrients through your ego."
He didn't respond to that either‚ instead‚ he just walked into the kitchen and I followed him because I didn't know what else to do.
His kitchen was enormous. White marble countertops. Stainless steel everything. A massive island in the center with bar stools on one side. I slid onto one of the stools and set my bag on the floor and watched him move around the kitchen like he actually knew what he was doing.
He opened the fridge and pulled out ingredients. Tomatoes. Garlic. Fresh basil. Something that looked like prosciutto. A block of parmesan. He se
