“I can show you the kitchen first—trust me, you’ll love it,” Lee said as he handed me a key.
“It better have a gas range and space for a camera,” I said, looping my fingers through the keychain.
Lee laughed. “Gas, double ovens, and counter space that will make your neighbor weep.”
The lobby smelled like lemon cleaner and expensive leather. The concierge scanned his tablet and smiled at Lee like they shared a private joke.
“You work too much,” the concierge said to Lee. “Who’s the other tenant?”
“Friend needs a temporary renter,” Lee said. “She covers for him.” He didn't elaborate.
“I’m Cora,” I said. “Good Meal Diary.”
Lee’s smile widened. “Even better. You can film. Just... keep noise measured. The building is picky.”
We rode the elevator. The buttons lit up in a neat row of blue. Two security cameras angled into the cab. I tapped my phone to the card pad and the doors unlatched without a word.
“High security,” I said.
“High-profile residents prefer a low-profile lobby,” Lee said. “Mariner Heights doesn’t do surprises.”
The key opened a door that led into an apartment twice the size of my last place. A foyer, a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows, and then the kitchen—my breath caught.
“Holy—” I started, then shut my mouth because Lee was watching and he didn’t want a speech.
The kitchen had a full island, marble counters, a six
