With that, he set the bottle back down and walked off.

I stared at the bottle for a moment before pouring another drink.

I spent the next half an hour trying to get absorbed in the crowd, in their conversations, in something—anything—but the thoughts of Soren that kept invading my mind.

By the time I was moving into the elevator, deciding I was only going to bring the morale of the party down, there was just one thought swirling around in my head.

Soren’s address.

It was a terrible idea.

I didn’t technically even know if the offer was still standing. If he would be home. If he would be alone.

My stomach twisted at that last thought.

Even if, objectively, I had no right to feel jealous if he took another woman to his bed when I’d avoided ending up there myself.

Hell, I didn’t even think I was capable of jealousy when it came to a man. None had ever meant enough to care what they did and with whom.

“Ugh,” I growled, making the woman next to me on the subway inch away, avoiding eye contact.

Great.

I was one of the subway crazies.

That was what Soren did to me.

So why the ever-loving hell was I on my way to Manhattan to see him?

“Men ruin everything,” I told the woman, who glanced over with knowing eyes.

She gave me a nod. “Preach.”

Her posture relaxed. Because, really, who out of us hadn’t been driven half-crazy by a man before?

By the time I caught sight of Soren’s building, I was sure I was going to turn around, go home, and chalk this stupidity up to too much whiskey and the need to take some man—any man, not this one man—to bed.

But as I closed in on the front door, the man outside of it in his doorman uniform gave me a soft smile.

“I believe you must be Miss Amato,” he said, making me stiffen.

“What? How do you know that?”

“Forgive me, miss,” the doorman—Walter, his name tag declared—said. “But Mr. Vale gave me a description of you and told me to let you up if you came by.”

“When did he say that?”

“I suppose, originally, a few weeks ago. But he reminds me daily.”

He did?

“Daily?” I asked, dubious.

“Sometimes he asks if I just saw you, but you didn’t come in. I was starting to feel bad about having nothing to report. Am I going to be telling him you happened past, or…”

There was actual hope in the man’s voice. Like he would be genuinely heartbroken for Soren if I chose not to go up.

What kind of man got that kind of loyalty from the people in the periphery of his life? This wasn’t the first time someone who worked for him seemed to authentically care about him.