“Thanks for letting me know.” He glanced at his Rolex. “I want to know what’s happening as soon as you get back.”

I nodded. “You will.”

“Perhaps he’s interested in you,” he mused, almost to himself. “He always wanted things he couldn’t have.”

I could hardly rein in my disbelief. No way was that what this was about.

I opened my mouth—to say what, I didn’t know—but closed it again. It wouldn’t matter what I said. Once Tom had a crazy idea in his head, he wouldn’t hear sense.

“Be back soon.” My cheeks burned as I left him and headed for the stairwell.

By the time I’d made it down to the street, I had my embarrassment back under control. Being a Lennox meant knowing how to compartmentalize and always putting on a good face.

I took a cab to the building that housed King’s Security, rode the elevator to the top, and eyeballed the security guard on my way past.

He stared me down.

I approached the receptionist and told her Fiona was expecting me.

She nodded briskly. “Hold on a moment.” She dialed an extension on her phone and had a brief conversation. “She’ll be here in a few minutes. Please wait over there.” She gestured to a sofa.

I sat and crossed one leg over the other. I hadn’t taken the time to look around when I’d been here last night, but now I studied my surroundings at leisure. Not a single mark marred the tile floor. The receptionist’s desk was in perfect order—a far cry from the messy state of affairs at Lennox Securities. Art hung on the walls, and I could tell from the signatures in the bottom corners how expensive each piece must have been. I would have liked to look at them more closely, but I worried the security guard wouldn’t tolerate me poking around, so I didn’t budge from my position.

Before long, a statuesque redhead appeared in a doorway to the side of the reception desk. She scanned the room, and her gaze alighted on me. Some of the tension in my neck vanished. With a warm smile and a dusting of freckles, she was the kind of person who instantly put me at ease.

“Willow?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s me.” I stood and offered her a hand. “You must be Fiona.”

“Lovely to meet you.” She tilted her head toward the door. “Come right through. Good timing. Mr. King just finished a phone call, so I’ll show you to his office.”

I followed her down a lushly carpeted hall, past a number of rooms with glorious views over the city. Unconsciously, my shoulders hunched. This place was so much nicer than what I’d grown accustomed to since I started working for my family firm. I’d grown up around wealth, but our family money was long gone, and we’d had to downsize. We also passed the cleaning closet I’d hidden in, and I tried not to look at it.

By the time we paused outside an office labeled Ronan King, CEO, I felt well and truly out of my element. Being here during the daytime, when the place was alive with energy, felt different from my previous illicit visit. I was very conscious of the fact I didn’t belong.