“You did this for me?” I point to my chest.
“When you packed all your belongings from your apartment, you didn’t have much. Your whole existence could fit in a handful of bags. What you shared at the restaurant allowed me to have a better insight of what you’ve been going through.”
There’s so much more I can’t tell you for fear you’ll look down on me.
“Now, that you’re living with me,” he says, “I want to make sure you have everything you need.”
Chapter 11
Oh no, sweetheart, not in my presence
Kazimir
Harley is staring at me with such adoration.
That look is a two-sided razor blade. On one hand, I’m glad I got her the things she needed to help make her stay at my place more comfortable. On the other, I can’t shake off the feeling this woman has been dating men who don’t treat her the way she deserves. If she tends to gravitate towards men like Chett, it’s no surprise she’s looking at me like I could walk on water.
“While you were sleeping, I called Grazie Mille’s owner in Brazil.”
Harley drops the bag of Twizzlers she’s holding on the couch and meets my gaze.
“I promised I’d call him after I fired his disloyal manager, but I was so preoccupied to get to you to make sure you were okay, it slipped my mind?—”
“Oh no, it sounds like I screwed up your day,” she says.
I frown. “What gave you that idea?”
“You had to drive out to Jamaica, Queens. I’m sure helping me move out of my apartment wasn’t on your list of things to do today. Then, you drove all the way to Brooklyn to feed me. And while I was passed out on your couch, you were running aroundtown to buy me a ‘that time of the month care package’—which is the sweetest thing in the world, but I’m sure the time you wasted on me put a wrench in your day. Same for playing nurse.”
My frown deepens. “You say that like someone put a gun to my head and forced me to do those things. I did them because I wanted to. And for the record, I didn’t waste time on you—you’renot a waste of time.”
She blinks. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I’m not saying that to placate you, Harley. I mean it.”
She responds with a small nod.
Yup, this woman has been dating assholes. “As I was saying, I connected with the restaurant’s owner, and we had a long talk. He’s glad I took the trash out.”
She scoots to the edge of the couch. “Earlier, you said Étienne was arrested? Why? For being a toxic boss?”
I shake my head.
I tell her all about my weeklong visit to Brazil.
“Who’s Max Keller? How is he connected to the owner?”
“He’s half Brazilian and his family in Rio de Janeiro knows the owner. Max is a buddy of mine from the VIP Den—a members’ only business networking club for elite businessmen and women.”
She nods. “It’s a good thing the owner had you in his corner.”
“I don’t take kindly to lowlifes,” I say. “Étienne has committed a number of infractions, but the gravest one is the fact he was turning Grazie Mille into an illegal poker establishment after hours. The guy who groped you was his accomplice.”
Her head jerks back. “What?”
“That explains why Étienne took his side over yours.”
“What an asshole.”
