The loud rumble from my stomach had earned a round of laughter, and soon enough, Zaya's grandma was leading us toward the kitchen. I hadn't expected this twist, but then again, tonight had been one surprise after another.
I followed Zaya through the hallway, still marveling at the villa's sleek design and high ceilings, and we entered the kitchen a massive, gleaming space with marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, and more cabinet space than I'd ever seen.
As I took in the sight of this top-of-the-line kitchen, Zaya was already rummaging through the fridge. She moved with a confidence that seemed almost out of place at least until I realized what she was doing.
I blinked, surprised. "Wait… you're cooking?"
She shot me an unimpressed look. "Unless you'd rather starve."
I shrugged, a playful grin creeping onto my face. "I don't know. I just didn't picture you as the domestic type."
