My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 297

Chapter 297: 297/Three Years of Ashes

Chapter 297:

Three Years Later

Julie’s POV

I was sitting relaxed on a stool by the antique wooden kitchen table, resting my chin upon my cold palm, watching Steve’s arms move with a light, fluid agility as he busied himself with preparing a hot breakfast for us. He turned toward me suddenly, a warm smile carving his lips that softened the grimness of the morning, and spoke in a teasing pitch: "Julie, it’s been three whole years... do you truly still have no desire to learn the basics of cooking?"

I trailed my index finger slowly over the smooth wooden surface of the table, tracing imaginary circles, then answered in a light, amused tone: "Steve, you know better than anyone how utterly hopeless and failed I am in this department. No matter how much I try or experiment, I just don’t understand the language of frying pans."

Steve shook his head in mock despair and humorous surrender, quickly redirecting his gaze back toward the metal skillet where the oil was sizzling: "No escape then. I suppose I’ll have to keep cooking for you for the rest of our lives, while you suffice yourself with sitting there, comfortable like a queen."

A genuine, warm smile painted my lips after a very long time, and I said with pure spontaneity: "Yes, isn’t that option incredibly wonderful and convenient for both parties?"

Steve placed the large wooden spoon aside over the marble counter, letting out a deep, playful sigh as he wiped his hands with a towel: "So I cook all day at work to feed the customers, and I come back to cook at home just to feed you... this truly isn’t fair in the bylaws of siblinghood."

I tilted my head with a childish, playful air, looking at him with a smiling challenge, and countered: "You are the one who chose, of your own absolute free will, to work as a chef in the town’s restaurant. That is your personal problem, not mine."

He looked deeply at me as he gripped the white porcelain plates to arrange them, his tone shifting into curiosity as he inquired: "Are you going to sing at the hotel today as usual?"

I shook my head gently from side to side, brushing my brown locks back to reveal my features, and replied: "No, not today... I feel my throat is a little strained."

He nodded in understanding, placing no pressure on me: "Fine, rest today and don’t exert yourself."

Steve placed the hot dishes, which exhaled the delicious scent of eggs and baked goods, onto the table and sat in the stool directly facing me. He scrutinized my facial features intently for a few seconds, then said with a look of admiration and appreciation: "You cut bangs, didn’t you? It suits the contours of your face beautifully, making you look even lovelier."

I touched the tips of my fingers to the new locks of hair resting straight across my forehead, saying with satisfaction: "Yes, yesterday I dropped by Stella’s little salon and had them cut based on her advice."

Steve pushed his stool back, causing a slight creak against the floor, and rose quickly. He checked the hands of his leather wristwatch with care, adding: "Alright, time flies and I must head to work immediately so I’m not late for the kitchen."

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