I remember everything about her, though, and she’s exactly the same as she was five years ago. Same high cheekbones and delicate jawline. The rosebud lips I spent hours memorizing. And, of course, those eyes, devastating with the sadness and tearing their way into my soul no matter how hard I tried to keep them out.

The black bleeding in at the ends of her auburn hair is the only difference I noticed. That and she wasn’t Remi Sinner back then.

No, it was Remi Saint who haunted my dreams, waking and asleep.

The elevator dings, dipping to a stop on the lobby floor, and my eyes lift from my phone screen, but I stay against the wall.

I know what happens when I walk into the restaurant, and I’m putting off the inevitable. At least I plan to until Colton rips the phone from my hand.

“Your majesty,” he says, dropping into a low bow.

I swipe my phone on the way by, stepping into the buzzing lobby, voices bouncing off the marble floors and cascading from the vaulted ceilings, leading to the skylight two stories above us.

“So, we’re going with silent and broody today?” Colton falls into step beside me, his eyes sweeping the faces while I continue to ignore him.

The security is most likely overkill with the sunglasses. And those are deemed necessary after a night of trying to forget reawakened ghosts. Even with them on, the glare through the windows is nearly unbearable.

None of this would matter if today had gone the way it was supposed to have, with me buried under the blankets and the heavy curtains drawn. I ignored my phone for a reason this morning. Fucking Colton let himself into my room, tucking his into my hand.

“Christian Vero,” he tells the hostess outside the hotel’s restaurant.

Her eyebrows shoot up, followed by her gaze. They land on Colton first before sliding to me, where they settle.

“Of course.” She bites her lip when she smiles. “Right this way.”

I huff out a chuckle and hold out my hand as Colton groans. He digs in his pocket and slaps cash in my palm and mutters, “Unbelievable,” leading the way with another guard trailing behind us but at a distance.

Overkill.

Christian glances up from his phone as we approach, the irritation palpable by the time I drop into the seat across from him at the table. I feign innocence, shaking out the napkin and blinking at him with a smile.

“Foster.” It’s his entire sentence but represents a full paragraph at least.

I toss my sunglasses on the plate in front of me, not planning to eat, and drag a hand through my hair for about the tenth time today, frustrated as Colton lowers into the chair beside me.

“Why don’t you tell me how you think this conversation is going to go, Christian. Save us some time.”