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“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Grace,” he says as we step into the elevator.
“I’ll take my thanks in the form of sandwiches,” I say. He chuckles. “You should probably tell me a little about the apartment in case your dad asks questions.”
“Don’t worry about it.” His smile broadens. “He’ll be too surprised to see you to even care.”
Surprised seems like the wrong word to use in this situation. I can only assume he was aiming for pleased or impressed.
The elevator doors open. I follow Sam into a second lobby with large windows that fully embrace the skyline. He approaches the front desk.
“Hey, bud, how’s it going?” Sam says to the receptionist. “This is my friend, Grace Whittaker. I assume security told you we were coming.”
The man behind the desk barely glances at Sam. “You can head on back, Ms. Whittaker. Last door on the left. He’s expecting you.”
“Um...thanks.” I squint at the receptionist, not sure why he chose to address me specifically, when we’re here to see Sam’s dad.
Sam wastes no time making his way down the long corridor lined with glass-walled conference rooms and offices.
“Are we in a hurry?” I ask, trotting to keep up.
“I just want to make sure we get the good sandwiches.”
Finally, we reach the end and turn left into another small sitting area. The woman at the desk looks up from her laptop.
My shoes skid on the stone floor as I stop short.
“Jen?” I blink repeatedly, confused as to why Aidan’s full-time personal assistant would be working for Sam’s dad.
“Grace.” She gapes, stunned. “What on earth are you doing here with...him?”
“Hi Jen.” Sam meets Jen’s expression of shock with a calm smile. “Is he in?”
Her gaze jumps between us. “He is. But I don’t think this is a good idea—”
“Tell him we’re here,” Sam says.
“Wait, Jen,” I say, unable to wrap my head around this bizarre turn of events. “Since when do you work for Sam’s dad?”
“Who’s Sam?” she asks, turning her gaze to my companion. “You told her your name was Sam?”
My throat closes. I watch the pleasant grin on not-Sam’s face harden into a sneer. Before I can ask this stranger who the hell he really is and how he knows Jen, a door opens—and Aidan enters the room.
Relief washes over me, diluting my confusion. I rush to his side.
“That’s the guy who showed up at the house,” I tell him. “He said his name was Sam and the he wanted to show me a café around the corner...”
It takes a second for me to register that Aidan isn’t even listening. He’s too busy glaring at the stranger formerly known as Sam. My thoughts tangle themselves into knots as I study Aidan’s blanched face and stunned expression.
He knows this guy. But how does he know him?
“Liam,” Aidan growls. “Just what the hell are you playing at?”
“Your name is Liam?” I ask the stranger.
His mouth curves into a pinched smirk.
“Grace Whittaker,” he says, “I’d like you to meet my dad, Aidan O’Rourke.”
