Page 19 of Spice and Revenge

The air is thick with the aroma of fresh herbs and simmering sauces as Josie chatters away beside me, her words flowing like a river. I have gotten used to her lively banter now. I live for her stories, even if I suspect most of them are spun from her imagination.

“You know, the man I was supposed to marry, Nico, was from Sicilian royalty,” she says, deftly shaping rice balls by my side.

“Really?” I murmur, feigning interest.

“Yes. We were in love. I worked as a maid in his mansion when I was young. He loved me. But when his family members found out about our affair, they sent me away and sent him to study abroad. I never saw him again,” she sighs. “I’m still waiting for him to come back for me.”

I'm inclined to believe her, especially as she fidgets with the pendant around her neck, presumably a gift from Nico.

Until Blanco snorts. “Don’t believe any word from her mouth. That's straight out of some old Sicilian flick we watched as kids.”

I laugh, shaking my head.

Standing at the head of the gleaming marble counter, I’m surrounded by an array of vibrant ingredients. The meal the family is having for lunch today features many dishes. Weare to make arancine, savory rice balls; caponata, an eggplant dish cooked with tomatoes and vinegar; grilled seafood; caprese salad; and marinated olives.

We start with the first dish on our menu, which is the arancine, those golden, crispy rice balls filled with savory ingredients. Hilda is unusually quiet today, standing by an opposite stove as she cooks Arborio rice. When it is cooked to perfection, it will be mixed with the rich ragù.

I’m excited to cook this dish. I cooked it first in culinary school, and it has been my favorite Sicilian dish ever since. Josie and Blanco expertly shape the rice balls, their hands moving with practiced finesse, ensuring each one emerges uniform in size and shape.

“Are you okay, Hilda?” I ask her, my voice dripping in concern. I don’t know how it happened, but somehow, I've managed to forge friendships with all my sous-chefs.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, forcing a small smile on her lips. I look at Blanco to see if he knows anything. He merely shrugs.

We then move on to the caponata, a traditional Sicilian eggplant dish bursting with flavors. Without me asking, Josie washes her hands before grabbing a knife and coming to dice the eggplants. I love the way we all work in sync in the kitchen.

“Hilda, are you sure nothing is wrong?” Josie asks.

When Hilda remains tight-lipped, Blanco huffs. “Keeping secrets from us now?”

For some reason, I sense that she's reluctant to spill in my presence. I might take them as my friends now, but to an extent, I am still a stranger to them. We’ve only known each other for a couple of days.

Just then, we hear a howl of laughter coming from the other side of the house. From what Josie told me, Leonardo has friends over. It's a bit startling. How did that asshole manage to have not just one friend, but multiple of them? But then I assume they’re all like him, and it makes me roll my eyes in disgust.

I push away the memory of my last encounter with him, and the way I had him in my mind as Maximo gave me an orgasm. Instead, I focus on preparing the sauce, combining sweet and sour notes with tomatoes, vinegar, and capers. I take the bowl of diced eggplants from Josie when she’s done. The sizzle of the olive oil in the pan is music to my ears as I sauté the eggplant to tender perfection. A tantalizing aroma fills the kitchen, making my mouth water.

Another howl of laughter is heard, and irritation fills me.

“Are they usually this loud?” I ask, unable to hide the disdain in my voice.

“Yes, they are,” Josie offers. “Even though they argue and joke a lot, they are a close-knit friend group.”

“And how do you know the intricacies of their friend group?” Blanco asks.

Josie shoots him a glare. “Quit playing dumb. They're practically inseparable. Always hanging out.”

“And you're an expert on this because?” Blanco prods. “Are you his personal shadow? Following him everywhere?”

I chuckle at Josie’s flustered expression.

“You are just trying to rile me up,” she huffs.

Blanco laughs. “Gotcha. You're a sucker for a good tease. You’re so easy to provoke.”

“From now onwards, I'm officially pretending you don't exist,” she says before dramatically turning her back on him to face me.

As the savory dishes come together, we turn our attention to the seafood. Hilda comes over and meticulously cleans and deveins the prawns, while I delicately drizzle olive oil over the fresh octopus, readying it for the grill. The sizzle and crackle of the seafood on the hot grill give me a sound-gasm.

While the main elements of our meal are taking shape, we begin to assemble the side dishes and garnishes. We slice ripe tomatoes and fresh mozzarella for a classic Caprese salad, drizzling it with fragrant basil-infused olive oil. A platter of marinated olives and cheeses adds an extra touch of local authenticity.

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