Cole hadn’t been to the corporate office of North Brothers Sports since he was a kid. Nothing had changed, at least on the outside. Same nondescript building, same suite on the second floor. Well, the suite had expanded to take up the entire second floor, but beyond that, even the faint old-office-building odor was familiar if not welcome.

He exited the elevator and paused outside the door of the main reception area, which also hadn’t evolved.

The logo on the door had been updated, probably more than once, though Cole didn’t keep up with it, but beyond that, the sameness took him back to the time when he’d been young enough to get excited about visiting his parents’ workplace.

He’d been ten or eleven the last time and had shadowed his dad for an entire day—a take-your-kid-to-work day—and back then, Cole had thrived on it. Welcomed the time away from school, where he didn’t fit in, welcomed the special treatment at his dad’s company, where he was the boss’s son.

Shit. Nostalgia blindsided him, rolled through him like an undertow that could either take him where he needed to be or pull him under and drown him. Swallowing, he shoved the emotion aside as he opened the door.

It was after six p.m., so the receptionist’s desk was deserted. He hesitated, unsure where to go, annoyed with Mason for not being more specific when he’d called earlier today and asked Cole to meet tonight, saying he had something urgent to discuss. Cole and Sierra had stayed at the mansion until they and the other finalists were kicked out at five, then he’d rushed home for a quick shower before heading here—instead of the ravishing they’d discussed earlier.

With no idea whether the CEO’s suite was in the same spot as two decades ago—back corner on the left—Cole meandered that way through a nondescript hallway formed on one side by high cubicle walls. He could sense there were a few employees still at their desks on the other side of the wall, but he didn’t come into contact with anyone directly, which suited him. Though he’d cleaned up, put on non-work jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, he felt like an interloper.

He reached the corner office that had once belonged to his dad, and there was his oldest brother, still wearing his suit, jacket and all, sitting at the polished mahogany desk that had been their father’s, chair swiveled around to face the bank of windows as he spoke on the phone.

Cole knocked lightly on the doorjamb to let Mason know he was there, feeling vaguely like he had countless times in his adolescence when he’d been sent to the principal’s office. Mason spun around and nodded him in as he ended his call.