A Beauty So Cursed: An Age-Gap Stolen Bride Mafia Romance (Beauty & The Beast Book 4) by Beena Khan

Author:Beena Khan [Khan, Beena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: B. Khan
Published: 2021-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Miran was home today.

I felt so silly sometimes.

This wasn’t my home.

I was like a girl infatuated with her crush. He was making us dinner. I wish I could help, but I might s a finger. I sat at the kitchen table, and my ears perked up hearing the noises of pot stirring.

He wasn’t speaking to me at all, nor had he greeted me when he returned for the night. I’d spoken to him in the morning when I had identified that man, but once he returned me to the cabin, he left for work. I hated it when he was too quiet, and the silence in the air bothered me.

Had something changed his mood?

“What are you cooking?” I asked after a beat.

I would be so disappointed if he hadn’t answered but thankfully, he did.

“Falafel. They’re served in gyro stands around New York. And Et sote.”

My cheeks warmed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’ve never been to a gyro stand.”

“Oh.” After a pause, he explained, “They are street food vendors catered usually by Arab men that serve Middle-Eastern food at a cheap price. Maybe I’ll bring one home for you one day.”

I noticed he hadn’t said he would take me himself.

I guess it was too dangerous.

“And falafel are fried spiced balls or patties of ground chickpeas or fava beans. I like to make a mixture of both.”

A clank of noise jostled me awake, and the smell was directly under my nose. The steam hit my face, heating it. I tried to ignore Miran’s smell that was too close not to like. I tried to focus on the real food instead of wanting to nibble on him. The herb and spice taste were enriching.

“It’s hot. Falafel on the right with et sote. Et sote is Turkish beef. The sauce is on the left. I like Tahini sauce with it,” he murmured.

I hid a smile that he was learning proper word appropriations.

A chair creaked across from mine as he slid into it.

“Where’s the spoon?” I asked.

His deep laughter rumbled and echoed through the room.

After a moment, he replied, “Use your hands. There is pita bread for the beef on your right.”

Another plate clanked against the table.

I reached out a hand with hesitant movements, dipped the falafel ball into the savory sauce before taking a slow bite of it, and almost groaned. It was delicious, and he was an excellent cook. The falafel itself didn’t taste strong of the chickpeas and fava beans. I liked the taste. I ate the beef next. It was hot and crunchy.

“Try this when you’re done,” he said.

The sound of a plate glided across the table toward me.

“Baklava.”

I must have looked confused because he added, “It’s Arab sweets. Dessert to your right.”

I didn’t point out that it was too soon to be eating dessert when it was only evening. Maybe he didn’t follow American norms. There was so much I didn’t know about him.

“How did you learn how to cook?” I began.

“I’ve lived alone most of my life.”

“What’s it made of?” I asked, picking up the sticky, small Baklava piece.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.