Bishop |18+|

Ch.13

Alia

"You're messing with me aren't you?" I had my lips parted as I stared out at the gorgeous fucking villa that stood tall and mighty. With the sun dropping down below the horizon in the background, I couldn't help but allow my eyes to linger on the absolutely beautiful structure. It was pretty big and was isolated—far from the city. Antonio turned off the ignition of the car before reaching over to open my door from the inside.

"What do you mean?" He asked and I gave out an arrogant scoff. "I live here."

"I can hardly believe that." I mumbled and got out of the car, my heels hitting the concrete driveway. I trailed Antonio from behind, looking up at the beautiful building in awe. It wouldn't fucking surprise me if he owned other houses. I discreetly took off my heels and placed them near the shoe rack, letting my feet settle down onto the cold tiles. Much better.

Antonio guided me to the kitchen—a fat fucking kitchen. He had a kitchen island and I propped myself up onto the marble counter, watching as he rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands. He had a gorgeous fucking kitchen that was up to modern standards, making it surprisingly comfortable. Antonio soon turned off the tap and shook his hands gently over the sink, wiping them clean with a black cloth. Fuck I love it when men do that.

He did promise me that he'll make dinner and I sat there excited, watching him prepare the  kitchen utensils. Knives, each different and contrasting their own design were placed on the counter, along with a wooden chopping board and some ingredients. From the look of things, Antonio must have a passion for cooking—or at least be good at it because this shit is starting to look like something straight out of Hell's Kitchen.

"Any requests?" He asked and propped his hands on the counter, leaning his weight onto it. I tapped my bottom lip, looking down at the ingredients placed on the counter.

"Rude. You didn't even give me a menu." I poked my tongue out and Antonio chuckled, opening a draw and pulling out a thick notebook. It looked old, ancient but I'm damn sure it holds the recipes to probably some of the best fucking foods I'll ever taste.

"My mama's recipe book. Passed down from my grandmother." How fucking adorable. He chuckled and opened it, a finger skimming over texts written in Italian. A few words stood out since Spanish and Italian are pretty close, otherwise I knew jackshit.

"Tell me which one's your favourite." I scooted closer and Antonio took a second, reading over the recipes before his finger tapped on a page.

"Pesto pasta." He spoke and I looked down to see the writing. There was a little picture sticky-taped to the page, showing a green pasta with what seemed to be basil on top.

"Never tried it." I mumbled and Antonio let out an offended gasp.

"You're disgusting." He closed the book and put it back upon hearing me bark out a laugh. "How hungry are you right now?"

"Starving." I said with a groan, feeling my stomach rumble at just the thought of food. Antonio leaned in to kiss my neck, completely throwing that thought out of the damn window.

"I'll make you something to snack on." He chuckled. "Just keep me company for tonight."

*

I happily snacked on a platter of crackers, cheese, olives and salami that he made for me, paired with a glass of red wine. Watching Antonio cook was entertaining to say the least. He was currently toasting pine nuts on a pan, being sure to toss them and shit to make sure it was evenly cooked. Afterwards I watched him throw the pine nuts into a blender with other ingredients, blending them together to form a green thick paste.