Before meeting the man of the house, the time spent preparing dinner further deepened Yelena Belova's impression of Natasha Romanoff's current life. Only a wealthy, leisurely, unhurried life allowed someone the time to carefully cook dinner, because the whole process was complicated and time-consuming. It was absolutely nothing like grabbing a packaged chocolate snack off a shelf, tearing it open, or tossing a ready meal into the microwave, pressing a few buttons, and waiting for a "ding"—let alone piling every high-calorie food available on store shelves onto a baking tray and throwing it into the oven.
Professional habit made her inspect the kitchen carefully. Otherwise, she would have preferred eating the Snickers she had bought at the supermarket. Unless there was a major food safety incident, she could not possibly be poisoned by industrially processed food from a shelf. That meant her safety was guaranteed.
She saw stuffed geese and ducks that had been marinated in advance, along with berry jam and citrus jam prepared in jars, probably meant to be spread over the poultry before it went into the oven. There were also fresh prawns that had already been peeled and deveined. Their heads were frying in a small stainless-steel pot while a maid added chopped onions and tomato paste, then poured in a glass of white wine that looked very expensive.
Yelena watched the entire process of making the seafood pasta sauce before the indifferent maids chased her out, because she was genuinely getting in the way. The villa's kitchen was not particularly large, and the five-person service team already made it feel crowded. Yelena lurking nearby like a hawk, terrified the maids might tamper with something, was even more irritating.
Especially when she tried to pick up the bottle of white wine for inspection, head maid Dinah