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“Thank you.” Dash didn’t know what else to day. He almost felt sorry for the man.
“Should I be insulted that you doubted I’d handle this?” Thorne asked.
Dash decided not to answer that. He shouldn’t have doubted, but he had. He heard muttering and sounds that indicated Thorne was moving around. “Why the fuck are there no clean pants here?”
“Laundress on strike?”
“Very funny.”
Dash laughed. “I thought so. I’ll see you in a minute.”
Dash ended the call and walked back to the door.
“Didn’t I tell you that I have to verify your identity before you can enter?” the doorman said.
“And I told you that I have someone waiting on groceries and breakfast. He’s angry, and he’s on his way down.” Dash smiled and stood by the door, holding his bag.
He dramatically drew in a breath of the fragrant summer air. “Nice weather,” he observed as the elevator doors opened into the lobby.
Thorne stepped out in a crisp, dark suit that was likely worth more than Dash’s car.
The doorman scowled at Dash.
“Good thing it’s not terribly hot this morning. I have a feeling my friend gets even crankier when his food goes bad. He’s not good with disappointment.” Thorne glided toward them, moving soundlessly, like a cat stalking its prey.
Dash leaned in closer and spoke in a stage whisper. “He’s a little spoiled.”
“Am I now?”
The doorman jumped and turned. “Good morning, Mr. Shipton.” The man’s voice no longer held the arrogance it had when he’d spoken to Dash.
Thorne ignored him and gestured to Dash to step inside.
“This young man is here to see you?” The color drained from the doorman’s face.
“He is. I was in bed, waiting for my breakfast. Thanks to you, I’m now dressed and in the lobby, and I’ve not even had coffee yet. I’ve decided to call a meeting with the building manager, no point in being dressed for business if I’m not going to conduct some. Misconduct of building employees is at the top of the agenda.”
“Sir, I didn’t realize… I thought—”
“That he’d broken in, stolen my key, and come back to what, murder me with…” Thorne rose on tiptoe and peered into the grocery bag Dash held. “These?” He lifted out an egg carton. “Or these?” He pulled out a bundle of scallions.
“I’m not supposed to let anyone in who isn’t on the list of approved guests.” The man’s voice quavered.
Thorne glared at him. “He had my key, and you saw him exit, unless you weren’t paying such assiduous attention when he left.”
“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. I saw him exit.”
“Then why didn’t you let him return?” Thorne’s tone had Dash on edge, and he wasn’t the focus of Thorne’s anger.
“He’s not on the list.”
Thorne turned when the elevator dinged. A lean man exited.
“Mr. Garnet, lovely morning, isn’t it?” Thorne asked.
Mr. Garnet was probably fifty-five. He was dressed in khakis and a rumpled button-down, and he did not look at all awake. “Yes, sir. It is.”
“Too bad we’re going to have to spend it on business.”
Mr. Garnet looked like he was bracing for a storm. Dash wondered how often Thorne demanded his presence. He hadn’t been kidding when he said the man was spoiled. “What’s wrong, Mr. Shipton?”
Thorne looked back at the doorman. “We need to discuss employees and how they handle their jobs.”
Mr. Garnet looked like he’d be happy to forget he’d ever seen Thorne or the doorman. “Did something happen?”
“Something hasn’t happened. I don’t have breakfast or coffee because this man would not let my—” Thorne paused there, obviously not at all sure how to describe Dash.
Dash wondered what he’d come up with.
“Personal chef into the building.”
Dash pressed his lips together in an effort not to laugh.
“I was following policy,” the doorman protested. “And the young man didn’t say he was here to see Mr. Shipton.”
Mr. Garnet looked at Dash and then at the doorman. “I’m confused.”
“Don’t be,” Thorne said, taking over again. “I sent Mr. Dashwood out for…”
Dash didn’t hear the rest of what Thorne said because he was stuck on the fact that Thorne knew his real name. Sheila never revealed anything personal about the men and women who worked for her. Thorne had stalked him; fucking stalked him. And yet, here he was defending Dash, angry at the doorman’s treatment of him. Thorne had always treated him with respect, even apologizing when he joked about paying him.
“I’m going to leave you to handle this now,” Thorne said to Mr. Garnet. “I hope I won’t have to get involved in such matters again.”
“Thank you for calling this to my attention, sir. I’ll make sure you never have this problem again.”
“I sincerely hope so. I’d hate to have to call my realtor.”
“No sir,” Mr. Garnet said. “I will brief all our employees on this issue of guests with keys.”
Thorne smiled. “Thank you.”
Angry as he was, Dash had to stifle a laugh when he saw the expression on the doorman’s face. Thorne was so delightfully officious. No wonder he was good at his job.
