Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
With the tomato mixture bubbling away, she got to work looking through all of the cupboards and came out with a stick blender. She removed the pan from the heat, placing it on a metal rack, and then, she added in some whole basil leaves before putting in the blender and blitzing.
The scents were amazing.
She blended up her mixture. Put the pot back on to boil, and then got another pan. She heated it up, put the sandwich with the butter side down, spread the other side with some more, and then after a few minutes, flipped it.
“Grilled cheese and tomato soup,” he said.
Milah smiled. “A firm favorite when you’re coming in from the cold.”
She put the sandwich on a chopping board and ran her knife through it. Then served up a ladle full of the soup. “Would you like to try some?”
“I’ve … yes,” he said.
Milah handed him the plate, and he was about to question her, but she was already making another sandwich.
Within minutes, she served herself another bowl of soup and moved toward him. She took a seat beside him, dipping her grilled cheese into her soup then taking a bite.
This woman could cook.
The food was good, and he hated to admit it was even better than the steak he’d just consumed.
Chapter Seven
The following morning, Damon demanded that she make herself breakfast, and so she had decided to do some savory eggy bread. Milah had noticed last night the bread she used felt slightly stale, so it wasn’t a hardship turning it into something that would make it edible.
Damon was in the kitchen. Last night, he’d made her a little unnerved by how he’d dealt with his kitchen staff.
The day after she’d made her mother’s lentil stew, she had noticed a change in the taste of the food. She’d known the chef hated her for interfering. The fact Damon had eaten her stew, rather than his, had upset him.
Milah hadn’t gone into the kitchen to cause a problem for anyone. All she wanted to do was cook the food that reminded her of her mother. The woman who helped her to feel comfortable when her life was in so much turmoil. Glory had told her this morning that she was doing her best to get word out to her father.
She wouldn’t let Glory be hurt for doing this. She would do whatever Damon asked, so long as Glory didn’t suffer. It was a big risk, trying to contact her father. Part of her didn’t want to. The man was a complete and total bastard and had no regard for anyone but himself.
But she needed to know how to deal with everything. Without knowing what to expect, she felt very much like a fish in open water.
As soon as she knew what was expected of her, she could adapt accordingly.
With Damon’s gaze on her, Milah finished frying two slices of the bread and served him up. She already had another two slices soaking up some egg mixture.
Damon looked at the bread. It was one of her mother’s favorites. Milah had loved it when her mother went into the kitchen. Her father had tried to stop it, but her mother always found a way.
“What do you think?” she asked, placing her slices into the pan, loving the sizzle. Home cooking always helped to soothe her soul.
It was so basic and yet so … comforting. In the kitchen, there was a great deal of rules on safety and in cooking. Sometimes she liked to break boundaries, but for now, she was happy not to experiment too much.
“Delicious,” Damon said.
He finished off his two slices before she had even finished cooking her own. He held his plate out, and Milah served him the two she had originally planned to cook for herself. Making up some more egg mixture, she got to soaking the bread and cooking some more. Damon looked tempted to ask for the two she had cooked, but he put his knife and fork down, and instead, drank his coffee.
“Have you never had eggy bread before?” she asked.
“Not for a long time.”
“You could have asked the chef for what you wanted.” She wanted to know what had happened to the chef. She had been starving the past few days. She hadn’t eaten much of the food. Spending more of her time pushing it around her plate than eating it.
Damon didn’t say anything, just sipped at his coffee as she finished her food.
Once she was done, with her coffee drank, she got to her feet and was about to clean away.
“I have staff for that,” Damon said. “Follow me.”
She wanted to argue with him but knew to do so would be futile. Damon always got what he wanted.
Putting the plates down, she followed close behind him. She expected to see the kitchen staff, but the only people they passed were guards.