Penthouse- Tropical Spice -

Mia’s blood ran cold. She looked at her own tea cup—the one Leo had insisted she drink from every evening. The ginger. The black cardamom. The something deeper .

Mia spun. A man stood by an open-plan kitchen that looked like a laboratory for alchemists. Bottles of amber tinctures and jars of dried chili hung over a stove. He was older, with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes the color of star anise. Leo. The owner. Penthouse- Tropical Spice

Leo smiled, gesturing to a rattan chair. “It’s a closed-loop biosphere. Humidity from the rooftop rainwater tank, soil microbiome imported from Sri Lanka, and a wind system that mimics a lowland breeze.” He poured her a cup of tea from a ceramic pot. It smelled of ginger and something deeper, smokier. “Try it. Black cardamom, from that vine over your head.” Mia’s blood ran cold