“I don’t understand how our new ‘chef’ - if you could even afford her that title - has managed to butcher yet another meal. I understand that she’s from some musty corner of Europe where it’s frowned upon for women to shave their armpits, but you’d expect she would have mastered enough of the English language by now to understand the difference between simmer for ten minutes and torch on high for twenty.” Dante complained, folding his arms across his chest. “I need suggestions. Where the hell can I go at midnight that’ll offer me food that won’t destroy my taste-buds?”
With a roll of her eyes, Lily shook her head. She bit her tongue to keep from commenting on how titled and privileged the Ramirez boy actually sounded at the moment. “My diner’s open 24/7. It could be midnight, or 4 in the morning. If you want a good meal, show up, one of my girls will serve you, and you can enjoy the fabulous food our cook makes in the back kitchen.” She said, sounding almost like an advert for the diner itself. “Can probably head there now if you really wanna.”













