Aldo
Afternoon light streamed through the oversized windows of the manor as I made my way from my office to the kitchen, drawn by the very distinct smell of Melissa Marcello’s cooking.
I had not one but two personal chefs—and still, my mother’s cooking was better. She didn’t venture into the kitchen as often as she once had, though. So my quest for the cooking wasn’t so much driven by hunger as curiosity.
My footsteps faltered just outside the doorway when I caught the distinct high tones of Eli’s laughter. A softer, more familiar voice mingled in with that beautiful chime.
Curious, I peeked in.
The scene laid out across the kitchen nearly made me faint.
Eli stood on a step-stool, stirring a large ceramic bowl with a wooden spoon. Like everything he did, this too was executed with c
