He Loves Me Not (The Hawthornes of New York 1)

I inch a finger up my thigh. Taking this to the bedroom would be the smart thing to do. It’s been a long day. I deserve some me time.

That idea is interrupted by a knock at my door.

Kicking off my heels, I stand and adjust my skirt.

Before I’m halfway across my living room, there’s another knock. “I’m coming.”

This is a doorman building on Madison Avenue. Any visitors are supposed to check in with the front desk, but when Lester is on duty, he almost always escorts them up.

For a doorman, he’s making bank on tips.

He knows I’ll slip him a few bills when I open the door to find any of my friends on the other side.

Just as a series of fast-paced knocks start, I swing it open. It’s my neighbor from 3A. I live in B, no one is currently renting C, and D is undergoing a massive renovation.

“Hi, Mrs. Fields.” I smile. “How are you?”

“Hungry.”

It’s more like hangry judging by the scowl on her face, but I’ll play along. “You haven’t eaten yet?”

I’d laugh if anyone asked me that right now. It’s not even seven. I don’t start thinking about what I’m craving until at least eight, and if food hits my stomach by nine, I’m happy.

“My food is missing.” She brushes past me and enters my foyer. “Do you mind if I check around for it?”

I should be offended that she thinks I stole her dinner, but I’m not. I’m responsible for most things that go wrong in her life. I don’t take that personally, or I haven’t since I found out that none of her grandchildren visit her.

“Let me call Lester and see if there’s been a mix-up.”

I don’t need to be a detective to solve the case of the missing fish sticks. Lester is holding Mrs. Fields’s food hostage until she rides the elevator down to the lobby to search for it. Once she pays the ransom of a hefty tip, he’ll conveniently hand it to her with the explanation that he was just about to bring it to her apartment.

I tap the button on my phone to call Lester directly.

“Hello, Miss Marks. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I turn my back and lower my voice, so Mrs. Fields isn’t privy to what I’m about to say. “Stop playing games, Lester. Bring Mrs. Fields’s food up here now.”

He clears his throat. “Is she looking for it?”

“She’s starving,” I stress. “Do you want to be personally responsible for her passing out?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

I hold the upper hand. I rarely play it, but today Lester has left me no choice.

“Do I need to call Sabrina to get her involved?”

He lets out an audible gulp. “I’ll rush the food right up, Miss Marks.”

“Bring it to my apartment.”

“I’m on my way,” he declares before he ends the call.

I turn to give Mrs. Fields the good news, but she’s helped herself to my laptop. “Who is this handsome fellow?”

I don’t need to look at where her finger is pointed. “He’s a lawyer.”

“You’d do well to steer clear of lawyers,” she warns as she places my laptop back on the table. “They are the best liars in the world.”

Since I’ll never see Roman Hawthorne again, I nod. “I’ll take that advice to heart.”

Her face softens. This is all she needed. She just wanted her dinner and someone to listen to her wisdom.

I steer her toward my apartment door with a hand on her back. “Lester is on his way up with your dinner.”

“It was just delivered?”

The knock at the door saves me. “Here it is now.”

I snatch the bag from Lester’s hands as soon as the door is opened. After a brisk “ thank you ,” I slam it shut.

Mrs. Fields doesn’t notice because she’s too enamored with whatever is in the white paper bag that smells delicious.

“What do you have there?” I crane my neck to get a better look.

“Salmon with olives and artichokes.” She digs a hand in the bag. “There is also a rice dish. I can’t recall the name, but they always know what I like when I call to order.”

“From where?” I question because, in a few hours, this may be my dinner too. I’ll make an in-person visit so I can enjoy my meal with a glass of white wine. I’ll drag my sister, Viviana, with me since I haven’t seen her in almost two weeks.

“Nova.”

Dammit.

It takes months to get a table there.

I may have to settle for take-out for dinner tonight and a text to Vivi telling her that our sister bonding time will have to wait.

“I’ll go home and enjoy this.” She grabs the door handle. “Remember what I said about lawyers, Bianca. You can’t trust them. They may look nice, but the devil is hiding under the suit.”

“No lawyers for me,” I say honestly because Kieran works on Wall Street.