“Nigel, please. We’re Gage’s guests,” Rosalie Striker murmured, her eyes lingering on Elena briefly before returning to her intractable mate. “Let them get to their party and you can speak to Gage tomorrow.”

Something about the woman’s intervention freed Elena from the paralysis that seeing Nigel had induced. She wouldn’t be intimidated by this man, even if he’d been needlessly cruel to her six years ago. Nigel Striker had simply exploited the weakness that had always existed in her relationship with Gage—the lack of deeper understanding and core trust.

“What am I doing here?” she parroted, minus the expletive. “I’m doing a favor for your son, who asked me to attend an event with him this evening.”

Anger and an old resentment balled in her stomach. And as Gage entered the foyer from the opposite corridor, seeing him did little to ease those feelings, even if his expression registered concern for her.

Pivoting on her heel, she retreated down the hallway, charging back the way she’d come. She heard quiet, furious voices behind her, but she wasn’t even mildly compelled to glance backward.

Gage had asked her to share a story about Alonzo that would feed some of the public fascination with him, and she had. More media outlets would pick it up tonight after the announcement at Miles Rivera’s party. Gage had wanted her to attend the event with him, but as far as she was concerned, that part of the deal was off the table now that his parents were under his roof.

“Elena. Wait,” Gage called to her as she reached the door to her suite.

The door to the same room where they’d hashed through the logistics of her visit just two weeks ago.

She paused with one hand on the knob, wishing she could scavenge a fraction of all that defensiveness she’d felt around him then. She’d come to this house ready to do battle with him, to take the story she wanted and—yes—maybe have a little revenge for how he’d treated her six years ago.

Now that she’d seen another side of him, a facet of his kindness and a hint of the difficult journey he’d taken to be a different man from his father, Elena didn’t have the heart to do battle with him the same way.

“I’m leaving,” she told him quietly, forcing herself to meet his dark eyes. “I’ve filed the story you asked me to with The Hollywood Metro. I’ll forward the check to your publicity director so she can give the proceeds to one of Alonzo’s preferred charities. But I’m done here.”

“No.” He opened the door for her, apparently waiting for her to step inside. “Please, Elena. You can’t go without giving me a chance to explain.”