My high heels clicked against the marble floor of the penthouse hallway, feeling heavier than lead blocks by the time I finally pushed the heavy oak door open past midnight.
I expected a dark, quiet apartment. I expected to kick off my shoes, grab a glass of tap water, and pass out face-down on the mattress.
Instead, I froze.
The living room glowed with warm, soft amber light from a hundred floating tea candles arranged along the baseboards. The scent of fresh white gardenias—my absolute favorite—floated through the air, mixing with the rich, savory smell of garlic butter and truffle risotto from my favorite downtown Italian spot laid out neatly on the marble island. Two crystal flutes sat next to an open bottle of chilled vintage champagne, and right beside them rested a thick white ca
