Chapter 7 - The Penthouse Kitchen
The private elevator opened directly into the top-floor penthouse of the Hayes Tower, revealing a space so vast and quiet it felt less like a home and more like a museum of high-end isolation. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls offered a panoramic view of the glittering city below, but the interior was devoid of warmth. No family photos, no clutter, no personal touches—just minimalist chrome, dark wood, and absolute, suffocating silence.
Leo was waiting by the elevator doors. He didn't smile, but he didn't draw his weapon either. He simply gestured toward a set of double doors on the left.
“The kitchen is through there,” Leo said, his voice flat. “Every ingredient has been brought in from three different suppliers outside our usual chain. The pantry has been cleared, searched, and locked. The security cameras are live, and I’ll be watching the monitor from the hall.”
“I don't cook with an audience, Leo,” I said, walking past him without slowing down.
“The boss trusts you, Norah. I don't,” Leo replied coolly. “Keep that in mind.”
The kitchen was larger than my entire apartment, outfitted with professional-grade stainless steel appliances that gleamed under recessed lighting. Yet, despite its perfection, it felt sterile. It was the kitchen where Paulie’s chef had supposedly prepared the poisoned risotto.
I set my canvas bag on the island, unzipped it, and laid out my tools. I didn't reach for exotic ingredients or high-end luxury items. Instead, I pulled out simple staples: fresh carrots, root vegetables, thick-cut pork loin, garlic, sage, and a bottle of dry white wine. If Gabriel wanted to survive, he needed something honest, something that couldn't hide a synthetic toxin behind complex flavors.
As I worked, chopping vegetables with rhythmic, practiced precision, the door behind me clicked open.
I didn't turn around. I could feel the change in the air pressure, the heavy, deliberate footsteps of a man accustomed to making rooms go quiet simply by entering them.
“You came,” Gabriel’s voice murmured from behind the island.
“You left a rather generous tuition payment on the table,” I replied, slicing a carrot into even rounds. “It would have been poor financial management not to follow up.”
Gabriel let out a low, dry chuckle. He walked around the counter, leaning against the edge opposite me. He had changed out of his blood-stained suit into a dark cashmere sweater, but the exhaustion was still carved deep into his features. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the ground to give way.
“Leo tells me you inspected every single vegetable,” Gabriel noted, watching my hands move across the board.
“Leo is doing his job. I’m doing mine,” I said, glancing up to meet his dark eyes. “Though if you want to survive, you need to stop looking at me like I’m an assassin in disguise.”
“In my world, everyone is an assassin in disguise, Norah. Some just hide it behind aprons and nursing textbooks.” Gabriel stepped closer, resting his hands on the marble counter. “Tell me something. Why didn't you take the money and run? A girl from the South End could disappear with that cash and never look back.”
“Because running away from a problem just makes you live in fear of the day it catches up to you,” I said, my voice steady. “Besides, running doesn't answer the question.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What question?”
“Who tried to kill you?” I asked, dropping the carrots into a heavy iron Dutch oven. “You said you had three suspects. Which one of them was close enough to your kitchen to slip poison into your food?”
May you like
Gabriel went completely still. The silence in the penthouse suddenly felt heavier than before, charged with the dangerous weight of secrets that had cost men their lives.
---
