AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“King Arthur’s mind would definitely be blown, though I doubt he’d know what he was looking at.” He went to the industrial-sized fridge. “Let’s see if we can find something better than boiled mutton and ale.”
She chuckled. “Actually, that doesn’t sound too bad, assuming they kept the mutton refrigerated,” she said.
“Let’s find out,” he said, pulling open the door.
“Bingo,” she enthused, reaching past him for the lone bottle of white wine. “A modern-day ale equivalent.”
“When was the last time this place was used?” he asked, scanning shelves of condiments before spotting a jar of olives. He checked the date and set it on the island behind him.
“We haven’t used the Castle for an event. If there’s any food around, it’s from before we bought it,” she replied, wandering away. “Here, sir knight,” she joked, holding out a garbage bag. “For the loot.”
“Perfect,” he replied with a smile. She smiled back, the familiar line to the left of her mouth stirring memories he didn’t want. He looked down as he opened a drawer in the fridge. “Treffer!” he announced with genuine surprise.
“What did you score?” she asked.
“This.” He held up a canvas-wrapped salami and thick block of cheese.
“The salami is okay, but is the cheese still good?” she questioned, scanning two more drawers before she triumphantly held up a bottle opener. “Treffer!” she repeated.
“This is sealed Parmigiano-Reggiano, which lasts a long time if it’s refrigerated. We just need a decent cutting knife.”
“I’m on it,” she said, heading to an assortment of gleaming knives on a magnetic strip on the wall.
He smiled as she scrutinized the options. There were a lot of knives.
“Jesus, my knowledge of the culinary arts has not improved.” She sighed.
“Why should it, when you live in a place like this?” he asked. “With someone able to provide you homemade baklava at the drop of a hat.”
She smirked over her shoulder.
“What? Is it a crime that I remember your favorite dessert?” Whyhadhe mentioned it?
“It’s a crime to mention baklava when I’m going to be forced to eat pickled things out of a jar,” she said with a groan. She looked back at the board and plucked a knife off the metal strip. “What about this one?” She held up an odd, forked-tip blade that had holes along its length. “It looks like the lovechild of a kitchen utensil and Swiss cheese.”
“Congratulations, detective. You found a cheese knife,” he said, glancing away when her eyes lit up with pride. “Maybe grab that chef’s knife, too.”
“This one?” she asked, holding up the signature blade.
“Yup.”
“How does a billionaire tech guy know his way around a kitchen? I never saw you in one the whole time we were married.”
“There’s more to a billionaire’s life than board meetings and balance sheets,” he replied, turning back to the central island. “Doppelter treffer! A second score.” He held up a jar of pickled onions and another of gherkins.
“Meh,” she said with a shrug. “I’m happier about the other stuff. So you’re telling me you make meals? In an actual kitchen?”
He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know my specialty is Italian cuisine.”
Her laughter trilled. “Really? Like what?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs,” he replied sheepishly. “I didn’t say it was high cuisine, but I do make the meatballs by hand.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“From my last nanny. She was from Trentino and thought the most important thing I should know before going to university was how to feed myself.”
“You mentioned your nannies, but I don’t remember you saying anything good,” she mused.
