Novel & Cerita Suits Harvey Specter Apartment

Khaid, however, remained utterly calm, meeting Specter's intense gaze. “A feast, Specter? That is truly generous” Khaid responded, acknowledging the challenge. “But I think business first. Where is the item? I trust you didn't leave it in the storage area.’ Specter gestured expansively toward the hidden entrance of the private residence built into the warehouse structure. “Of course not! It is in my private chamber, safe. Come in, Nicholas. Let us retire to my throne room. We will discuss Metropaul's insolence over a single, quiet drink.”

The run-down sanatorium in front was a wreck. The whole building was dark due to curtailment. It was very creepy. However, Lloyd did not hesitate. He asked softly without turning his head, "Which room?" "Top floor. Room 312," Harvey said apathetically. His voice was unspeakably cold. They walked up the stairs slowly. Lloyd stood in front of an old paint-peeling-off door. He frowned his brows slightly as he said, "How could you let him live in such a place?"

Xavier and I drove around in silence until I reached his apartment. “Thanks.” He says, getting out of the car, but he just lingered there like he was deciding on something. “What is it, Xavier?” I asked. “Nothing.” He says, looking at me. “Just, call me when you need me, okay?” “Okay.” I said, nodding at him and giving him a smile. “Alright, I’ll go now.” He says. “Get in safe.” I tell him as he finally closed the door. I drove the familiar streets of New York back into my apartment. I still own the penthouse at Central Park South and One 57 but I don’t feel like living in such a big place all alone. Especially that Natasha isn’t there to keep me company.

She was speechless. "This place was never mine anyway," I said. "Thank you for taking care of me all these years." I slid the box with the Cartier sapphires over to her. I moved back to Brooklyn. To the tiny apartment I bought with my first movie paycheck seven years ago. It faced north and was freezing in the winter. But the door was mine. The windows were mine. The bed was mine. Harper came over that night. She slammed her hand on the table and declared we were going out.

I grabbed my jacket. "Come on, let's go to the apartment." We soon arrived at the neighborhood. The door to the apartment I had carefully renovated was wide open. Bertha was directing several workers as they carried out the furniture I had bought. She said, "Be careful. Everything's expensive. They'll sell for a lot." When she saw me, she smiled smugly. "Well, well. If it isn't Ms. Shaw. Here you see your unit? Too bad for you. This place belongs to the Carters now."

Always with a polite smile. We found him at home. A large mansion in Beacon Hill. Security at the front and back doors. Cameras. Alarm. Harvey disabled everything in less than twenty minutes. He stayed in the car, laptop on his lap, fingers flying over the keyboard while Declan and I entered through the back door. The judge was in his second-floor study, drinking whiskey alone. When we opened the door, he stood up so fast he almost knocked over his glass. "Who are you?" he asked, trying to sound calm.

All I could do was close up the doors and windows and keep everyone else out. I ran through the building in my head. On the sixth floor, it was just me and the guy in 603 across the hall. The fifth floor had Jacob, Tom, and a college student in 504. The fourth floor had only 401, which was occupied by someone I'd never met. Since Edgar's death, the third floor had been reduced to just one occupant—304, which was the only tenant bold enough to continue living there. The second floor was full, but I didn't really know anyone. I'd only seen a man and a woman in the elevator. They looked like a married couple. On the first floor, there was an elderly man who had trouble getting around, and then

“But at least I’m trying to save this company. What are you doing?” I didn’t wait for her answer. I stepped into my office and shut the door behind me with a heavy click. Tomorrow was going to be brutal. HARROW CAPITAL ~ NEW YORK CITY An hour later, I stepped out of my car and headed into the impressive lobby of Harrow Capital. That building was a giant in Manhattan—fifty floors packed with glass, steel, and serious money. Normally everything felt stiff and super quiet, but today the vibe was lighter. People actually looked happy.

"I'm not a child. Just because Mr. Fitzgerald likes to be driven doesn't mean that I do." She nodded. "Yes. Could you call me...?" "I'll be home before dinner. Don't you worry. Is the car out front?" "Yes, ma'am." I couldn't understand what had happened to Stephen and why he'd left his internship so abruptly. By the time I reached Hamilton and Porter, my hands were back to trembling. The ostentatious office, established largely through the exorbitant billings of corporations and families like the Montagues and Fitzgeralds, was regally positioned in a historic district in downtown Savannah. It made for a beautifully constructed building with ornate craftsmanship but one terrible for parking.

SCARLETT : Harrison Cage turned a deaf ear to all my excuses, and we ended up staying at his place. His lifestyle was no different from any other person of high ranking. His place was just a simple-looking apartment, yet everything about it screamed luxuriously. The neatly white-painted walls had exquisite art on everything, and the sofas were too soft and plush not to cost a fortune. It had a mini bar with a shelf of glass souvenirs next to it.