My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 342

Chapter 342: 342/Nothing is as it seems

Chapter 342:

Steve’s POV

I was standing in the middle of the kitchen floor in my white attire, the high heat radiating from the gas stoves coating my face with a flush and sweat. I was moving with rapid, mechanical paces while my hands cooked and prepared with passion the successive luxury dishes requested by that important customer.

I captured a panting breath as I skillfully shook the metal frying pan; never in my life had I expected, nor had it crossed my mind, that my simple, old hobby of cooking could transform me into such a blatantly skilled and proficient chef! Of course, all this credit belongs to the skillful, elderly chef who used to work here in this place previously, who taught me everything and guided my fingers with patience throughout these long years.

Suddenly, the kitchen door was pushed with force, and the restaurant manager emerged with his tight features filled with anxiety and tension. He paced toward me while rubbing his palms in haste, saying in a panting tone:

"Hurry up, Steve! For the sake of hell, are you not finished yet?! The customer is waiting with running out patience."

I did not turn to him completely; rather, my eyes remained focused on the knife and the meat, and I said with rapid breaths and a confident tone:

"I am already close to finishing, sir. Everything is under control."

The manager knitted his brows, leaning his body toward me as he said with agitation:

"Exactly how much time do you require?!"

I raised my head for a second, wiping my forehead with the back of my sleeve as I said:

"Only 10 minutes, sir, and everything will be ready for presentation."

The manager exhaled with a light relief, retreating with swift paces toward the door. Then, he glanced at the waiters standing in readiness and shouted in a raised voice:

"Take out the ready dishes instantly! Do not leave the table empty!"

The waiters began moving with swift movements, proceeding to take out the hot and cold appetizers in succession, while I bent my body with my full focus to finish preparing and garnishing the main course. After I had indeed finished it, I placed it lightly over the surface of the metal table, and the waiters took it out immediately with deliberation, followed by the luxury dessert plate that I had manufactured with perfection.

I relaxed my stiffened shoulders with fatigue, turning to the manager who was monitoring the movement from afar with tight fingers, and I said to him in an exhausted tone:

"Can I vacate and return home now, sir?"

The manager shook his head with a definitive and direct refusal, gripping the edge of the desk with tightness as he said with coldness:

"No, Steve... if he requests something else suddenly, how the sake of hell will we act?! You cannot vacate in any form of manners until he vacates the restaurant himself!"

I exhaled with tightness and muffled oppression, sitting on a wooden stool in a corner of the kitchen for a duration of time, the fatal silence enveloping the place while I anticipated the news. After heavy minutes, the manager rushed once more into the kitchen with his completely startled features.

He approached me, his eyes widened in a suspicious manner, saying in a low voice carrying the dimness of shock:

"Steve... the gentleman wants to see you instantly outside."

I jolted up, standing on my feet with a trembling that shook my self-confidence. My eyes widened with terror and I said with a stunned stammer:

"What?! And why does he want to see me? Is there a mistake in the food?!"

The manager smiled a broad smile that swiftly reassured my heart, patting my shoulder with enthusiasm as he said:

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