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Grace’s little giggle catches Cheryl’s attention, and her pale blue eyes widen when they land on the woman next to me. “And who’s this ravishing creature, Adam?”
“This is my date, Grace. Grace, Cheryl.”
They shake hands while Cheryl inspects Grace with curiosity. “Nice to meet you, Grace.” Her eyes twinkle when she glances back at me, and I almost roll my eyes. She’s like my sister right now, ready to jump and scream with excitement because I’m with a woman. “You’ve never brought a date before, just that,” her nose wrinkles, “lawyer.”
Cheryl has never liked Devlin.
“Is she here?”
“No. She no longer works for Mr. Lockwood,” I share.
Grace’s eyebrows hike up. I can practically see questions forming in her mind.
“Good riddance.” Cheryl sniffs. “Grace, you’ve got a good fellow on your hands. Such a lovely young man. We met two years ago at a Christmas party when he saved me from an embarrassing accident after I indulged in too much champagne.”
“Really?” Grace glances at me. “He has a penchant for saving people.”
I lift one eyebrow.
“You two make such a lovely couple,” Cheryl gushes. “I hope to see you at the next one, Grace. There’s always some kind of spectacle, isn’t that right, Adam?”
I nod. “And you and I are both over it.”
Cheryl giggles. “Yet here we are.” She grabs a champagne flute from a passing server. “Year after year, after year.” She guzzles down her drink. “I’m much too old to overindulge in alcohol, but creating a little buzz is how I get through these things.”
Grace and I exchange amused glances.
“Tell me, Adam. How’s the reclusive Mr. Lockwood? Have you actually seen him yet?”
“Not yet. We still communicate strictly via email.”
Cheryl turns to Grace. “Has he told you about the mystery surrounding his employer?”
Eyebrows almost touching her hairline, Grace turns to me. “No, Cheryl, he hasn’t.”
Smirking, I sip my champagne and allow the loquacious Cheryl to tell the story.
Cheryl leans closer to Grace. “The heir to the Lockwood empire hasneverbeen seen in public. Supposed heir, I should say. For all we know, it’s Allan Lockwood’s board pulling the strings behind the scenes, and they put out the rumor about Allan having had a long-lost relative to whom he left everything.”
“Intriguing,” Grace murmurs.
“Adam here,” Cheryl rests a hand on my arm, “works for the phantom heir. He attends many of these events, representing Mr. Lockwood.” She turns to me. “What did you say his name is again, dear?”
“Rowan.” I take another sip from my glass, ignoring Grace’s stunned expression.
“Right. Adam came to the dinner last week, honoring the late Allan Lockwood for his contributions to the community, and he read the speech Rowan Lockwood wrote.” Her eyes narrow to slits. “Supposedly wrote.”
“Oh, he definitely wrote it, Cheryl,” I assure her. It took me a couple of days to perfect it.
Grace’s jaw is practically brushing the floor at this point, and it’s all I can do not to laugh.
“I’ve asked Adam over and over to at least try to sneak a picture of the reclusive billionaire, but he says Mr. Lockwood ensures no contact and there’s something about a nondisclosure agreement. I’m dying to know what this man looks like.”
“I wonder,” Grace hums.
“I hear he’s an agoraphobic,” Cheryl shares.
“Where did you hear that?”
