CHAPTER 14 #2
"Thank you, Helisa," I said, keeping my voice low, a playful smile playing at the edge of my lips as I felt the immediate, magnetic pull between us flare up. "I wanted to make sure I was dressed appropriately for a 'corporate strategy' dinner."
"Oh, believe me, the strategy is already working," Helisa whispered, her eyes lingering on my lips for a second too long before she cleared her throat, stepping back to gesture toward the kitchen. "Come, let me introduce you. Naomi is the mastermind behind the stove tonight."
As we walked into the spacious kitchen, I spotted a vibrant, older black woman standing over a massive Le Creuset pot. She was wearing a colorful African print apron over a simple denim dress, her silver hair styled in a beautiful, crown-like afro. This had to be Naomi.
"Naomi, this is Miley Palmer, the brilliant new addition to the team I was telling you about," Helisa announced.
Naomi turned around, a massive wooden spoon in her hand, and the moment her eyes landed on me, her face lit up with an enormous, gap-toothed smile that instantly melted away every single ounce of my lingering corporate nerves.
"Oh, child, look at you!" Naomi cried out, her voice loud, rhythmic, and full of pure life.
She immediately dropped the spoon onto a rest and marched over, wrapping her arms around me in a tight, warm hug that smelled of thyme and garlic.
"Helisa told me you were gorgeous, but she didn't tell me you were trying to shut down the whole city of New York tonight!
Look at that skin! Welcome, sweetie, welcome. "
"Thank you, Naomi. It is such an honor to meet you," I laughed, genuinely hugging her back, feeling an instant, clean wave of maternal energy radiating off her. "And whatever is in that pot smells like pure heaven. I’ve been smelling it since the elevator."
"You hear that, Ciara? The girl has taste!" Naomi shouted, turning her head toward the far corner of the kitchen island.
My eyes followed her gaze, and the warm, welcoming atmosphere in the room instantly hit a brick wall of pure frost.
Sitting on a high barstool, a glass of dark red wine gripped tightly in her hand, was Ciara.
She was wearing a sharp, emerald-green silk jumpsuit, her hair perfectly pressed, but her face looked like an active volcano waiting to erupt.
She hadn't said a word since I walked in.
She was just staring at me over the rim of her wine glass, her eyes narrowing into slits, her knuckles turning white from how hard she was gripping the stem.
"Good evening, Miley," Ciara said, her voice dropping into a chilly, formal register that was completely devoid of life.
"Good evening, Ciara. Nice to see you outside the office," I replied, keeping my composure entirely intact, though my empathic radar was screaming at me. The jealousy coming off her was a physical weight in the room.
"Yeah, well, some of us are here to discuss actual company logistics," Ciara shot back, taking a slow, deliberate sip of her wine, her eyes darting over to Helisa, who was currently pouring me a glass of Pinot Noir.
"Oh, hush up with all that corporate nonsense, Ciara!
" Naomi interrupted, rolling her eyes dramatically as she went back to her pot, lifting the lid to let a massive cloud of savory, steam-filled aroma escape into the air.
"We are here to eat, laugh, and celebrate.
Cheer up, girl, and don't you dare ruin my good oxtail with that face!
You look like you just swallowed a whole lemon. "
Helisa handed me my wine glass, her fingers brushing against mine for a brief, electric second. "Naomi’s right, Ciara. Tonight is about winding down. Let's leave the E-Tech drama at the front door."
Ciara let out a sharp, cynical scoff but didn't say another word, turning her gaze back to her phone.
Naomi shook her head, a playful glimmer in her eyes as she began plating the food. "Alright, y'all, grab a seat at the table. It’s time to eat before I have to cuss somebody out for letting my food get cold."
We moved over to the massive, dark wood dining table that overlooked the city skyline.
Naomi, with the precision of a seasoned general, took control of the seating arrangements.
She practically pushed Helisa and me into adjacent chairs on one side of the table, while she took the seat directly next to Ciara on the opposite side.
"Alright, let me serve the guest of honor first," Naomi said, spooning a massive portion of rich, dark brown oxtails over a bed of flawless rice and peas, the gravy glistening under the chandelier. She slid the plate in front of me. "Eat up, Miley. Tell me if it hits the spot."
I took a forkful of the meat, which literally slid off the bone with zero resistance.
The moment the flavor hit my tongue—the perfect balance of savory browning, the subtle heat of the scotch bonnet, and the melt-in-your-mouth richness of the fat—I closed my eyes and let out a genuine moan of appreciation.
"Oh my god," I breathed, opening my eyes to see Naomi watching me like a hawk. "Naomi... deadass, this is the best oxtail I have ever had in my entire life. And I’m from Harlem, so I don't say that lightly."
Naomi let out a triumphant yell, slapping the table playfully. "Ha! You hear that, Helisa? Harlem approved! None of that watered-down corporate food you try to feed me."
Helisa laughed, digging into her own plate. "I admit defeat, Naomi. Your kitchen rules are absolute."
Across the table, Naomi leaned forward, her eyes locked dead on Ciara, who was quietly chewing a small piece of meat. Naomi watched her eat with a hilarious, hyper-focused intensity.
"Well? What about you, Miss Executive?" Naomi challenged, nudging Ciara’s shoulder with her elbow. "Are you still gonna sit there and lie to my face? Tell the truth now."
Ciara chewed slowly, trying her absolute best to maintain her cold, unbothered posture, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitching. She swallowed, looking at Naomi with an exasperated expression.
"Naomi, you know damn well I’m not lying," Ciara grumbled, though she couldn't stop her fork from diving right back into the gravy. "I told you last week... Aunt May’s oxtail has that specific slow-smoked flavor. It’s a classic."
"Aunt May’s oxtail is dry like a desert, and you know it!
" Naomi cussed her out playfully, waving a hand in her face.
"That woman uses too much garlic powder and not enough soul, and she only told you that story about her secret recipe to get you all rattled up and defensive! She’s been playing you for a fool, Ciara.
And apparently, she tried to play me too! "
A sudden, sharp laugh escaped Ciara’s lips, her icy demeanor finally cracking under Naomi’s relentless humor. She licked her lips, savoring the rich, deep flavor of the gravy before looking up at the older woman with a look of genuine defeat.
"Fine! Fine, you win!" Ciara revealed, raising her hands in mock surrender before digging her fork back into her plate. "The truth is... your oxtail is the best, Naomi. It’s not even a competition. Aunt May was definitely messing with me and you, but you kept your cool. Happy now?"
"Extremely happy," Naomi beamed, completely satisfied. "See? Was it that hard to be honest? It tastes better when you admit the truth, child."
The mood at the table instantly shifted, becoming lighter, louder, and filled with a high-spirited energy.
Helisa joined in on the banter, sharing hilarious stories about Naomi’s past kitchen disasters, while Naomi cracked non-stop jokes that had me laughing so hard my ribs ached.
For a brief hour, the heavy undercurrents of corporate jealousy and hidden desires vanished completely, replaced by the universal language of good food and deep laughter.
***
As the dinner wound down, the heavy plates were cleared, leaving only a few half-empty wine glasses scattered across the dark wood table. The atmosphere in the penthouse had settled into a warm, post-meal languor.
"Alright, let me get these dishes sorted out before the gravy cakes onto my good porcelain," Naomi announced, standing up from the table and rolling up the sleeves of her denim dress.
"I'll help you wash up, Naomi," Ciara said quickly, her voice carrying a sudden, eager tone as she stood up, grabbing her empty plate and Helisa’s.
She seemed desperate to prove her worth in the household, her eyes darting toward Helisa as if looking for approval.
"You shouldn't have to clean up after cooking such a massive meal. "
"Well, look at you acting like a saint," Naomi joked, guiding her into the kitchen. "Come on then, grab the sponge. Let's see if your dish-washing skills are better than your taste in oxtails."
Helisa watched them disappear into the kitchen, the sound of running water and the clatter of silverware soon filling the air.
She turned her head slowly, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a sudden, intense focus that made the breath catch in my throat.
The playful dinner host was gone; the magnetic, predatory woman from the office was back.
"Miley," Helisa whispered, her voice low and raspy. "Step out into the hall with me for a second. I want to show you the artwork I brought back from the gallery in Paris last month."
My heart gave a heavy, warning thud against my ribs.
Miley, don't do it, a voice whispered in the back of my mind.
This is reckless. You are an intern, she is the boss, and Ciara is literally twenty feet away.
But as Helisa stood up, extending a hand slightly toward me, the sheer, intoxicating pull of her energy was too powerful to resist. I stood up, my chocolate-brown dress whispering against my ankles as I followed her out of the bright dining room and into the shadows of the long, arched hallway that led toward the private bedrooms.