I reached out for the car door, intending to pull it shut. Charlotte, however, abruptly lunged over, knocking my hand away with her body. Then, she plopped down into the passenger seat. The broth of the chitlin stew in her hands sloshed violently, spilling all over the passenger seat, which was made of handcrafted, custom-stitched Dornish calfskin. The pungent, greasy liquid slowly seeped into the crevices of the leather. My expression hardened in an instant as a nauseating odor permeated the cabin. Looking at the grease on the seat, instead of offering an apology, she casually whipped out a tissue and wiped it a couple of times. "Oh, come on. It's just a little spilled broth. It's no big deal. I'll give you ten dollars later so you can get it rinsed at a car wash."Right after saying that, she kicked off her stiletto heels and propped both of her stocking-clad feet right up on my custom dashboard, which was hand-carved from a single piece of precious rosewood. She continued, "A
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