What if you knock my socks off?
Kazimir
Harley drops her wine glass on the kitchen table and meets my gaze. “Thank you for such a delicious meal.”
“It’s my pleasure. My chefs and sous-chefs toughed it out in front of flames to cook it to perfection.”
“This is such a treat. With my financial woes dining out wasn’t even a possibility. I lived off ramen noodles or rice and beans.”
That explains why she lost her curves.
I hate to hear how much she had to struggle because the husband and wife she teamed up with ended up defrauding her.
I won’t rest until I track those fuckers down.
“Now that you know the owner, just say the word. I have a table in the back corner reserved for me that can accommodate friends at a moment’s notice.”
“Noted.” She nods. “I might have to take you up on that offer, because this is the best grilled chicken I’ve ever had in my life. The smoky and charred taste is out of this world. Don’t get me started on the charred carrots drizzled with honey orNumber 22’s house bread and the marinated mixed olives we had for starters.”
“Glad to hear we have a new fan.”
“Definitely.” Her eyes roam around the kitchen. “For someone who lived in a dilapidated and stinky basement micro apartment only a few hours ago, your oasis on a quiet street in Brooklyn Heights is idyllic—” She shakes her head. “Wow. From a slum in Jamaica, Queens to an historical renovated three-level carriage house located in Grace Court Alley in one day. Talk about moving up in the world.”
“Nothing wrong with taking the express train.”
She smiles. “I’m in awe the entire back wall made of floor-to-ceiling windows opens up and leads to a sprawling terrace.” She points to it. “We get to enjoy dinner under the stars in early May.”
I swing my gaze to the windows. “I take full advantage of it until it gets too cold.”
“I guess that’s when you turn on the sunken fire pit wrapped in gunmetal gray steel and glass that drops down from the backyard—it’s such a wicked feature.”
I return my attention to her. “It allows sunlight to pour in from the massive skylight to the lower level. Other than the three windows at the top of the tall garage door, there are no windows in that space, for privacy reasons.”
“I had one small window in the dungeon I no longer live in, so I totally understand your desire not to feel like you’re trapped in a tomb.”
“Speaking of which, did your landlord get back to you?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet.”
“You need to be relentless. You want to break out of your lease without penalty.”
“I’ll call him tomorrow.”
I could bulldozer my way into getting her landlord’s attention,but given the violation of her privacy, this complaint needs to come from a woman.
“Did you buy the carriage house before you were married?” She changes the subject.
“I did. During our three-month marriage, it was in full renovation, which is why I moved in with Devlyn.” I wish I had known when I said ‘I do’ that her grown ass son would camp at his mother’s house, despite the fact he had his own penthouse.
“And you didn’t have to sell it to divide the profits?”
“No. Marrying Devlyn was a big mistake, but I wasn’t stupid enough to do it without a prenup.”
She nods. “I guess it’s the same for your cottage in the Hamptons.”
“Correct, but I put that property up for sale the minute the divorce was final. Lucky for me, it sold in no time.”
She frowns. “It was such a majestic cottage.”
