I plaster a polite smile on my face and accept it.

“Lloyd is a named partner at Sternum and Oakley.”

“Really . . .” I feign interest, though it is interesting that my father would be trying to set me up with our law firm’s main competitor. “So you are . . .”

“The breastbone.” Lloyd flashes a bright, easy smile and then winks. “You wouldn’t believe the number of jokes I’ve endured.”

“I think I can imagine.” He’s charming, I’ll admit. And if I weren’t already spoken for, I would probably be wondering how I could get his number.

Already spoken for.

My God.

But I have already decided.

I want Kyle back.

“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but you caught me on my way out. I have another function that I have to make a speech at in exactly”—he checks his flashy Rolex—“ten minutes.”

I hold my hands up in the air. “Please don’t let us keep you, then.”

“A pleasure to meet you, though, Piper. I hope our paths cross again. And soon. Kieran.” He nods at my father and then continues on.

“He separated from his wife about a year ago, but I hear he’s dating again.”

“You should ask him out, then. You two would make a cute couple, and he looks about the age you prefer.”

Dad gives me a flat look.

“What’s wrong? Finally giving up on my reconciliation with David?”

“Is it likely?”

“Yes, right after I set myself on fire.” I tip back my glass and finish off the champagne.

He sighs. “I do want to see you happy.”

“As long as it’s with a man like David or this Lloyd Sternum.”

“Well, you’d keep your last name, obviously. The man is smart, successful, and driven. He’s the kind of man you’ll need in the years ahead—”

“I don’t need a man.”

He rolls his eyes. “What I mean is, when you do decide to settle down with someone, it will need to be with someone self-assured enough to handle being married to a woman as powerful as you will be.”

“And what would guarantee that, Dad? A big bank account? A private jet in the family?” My anger with him flares. “God forbid I date a blue-collar worker who just loves me for me.”

My dad snorts. “Isn’t that too idealistic, even for you?”

“Just because it didn’t work out for you and Mom doesn’t mean everyone else is doomed.”

An unreadable look flashes through my father’s eyes. “Your mother never understood the kind of pressure that I faced. She wanted romance and vacations and all these things that I didn’t have time to give her. She didn’t understand because she didn’t grow up in this world.”

“But that architect from LA understood, did she?”

He scowls. “That’s personal and not a topic I ever want to revisit.”

“Let’s make a deal, then. I’ll stay out of your personal life if you stay out of mine.”

He gives me a bewildered look. “It was a harmless introduction, Piper! I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“Because I don’t want you interfering with my relationships, even if you don’t approve. So don’t ever do it.” Ever again. My voice is calm and low but no less severe. With that I stroll out of the art gallery, my head held high, a small sense of victory humming through my bones. I may not have confronted my father about his past betrayal—yet—but I’ve made my position on any future ones as they relate to me—and to Kyle—clear.

And now it’s a matter of finding out if there even is a future.

“Thank you. You can leave,” I tell the driver, my gaze on the darkened office windows in the Calloway building. Oddly enough, I’ve always found the emptiness on the weekends comforting, as if all the weekday guests have left and I finally have the house to myself.

My chest is tight with anticipation as I climb the steps. My stomach stirs with hope as I swipe my card to gain access through the exterior doors again.

My nerves electrify as I try not to appear too eager strolling toward the security desk. I don’t know what to say, but I hope I don’t say the wrong thing.

Kyle flashes me a smile that makes my feet falter. It’s a smile I’ve seen many times before, but not in years. “Come back for those other shoes?”

“A pen, actually,” I say with mock seriousness. It’s the first—lame—thing I could think of.

“A pen,” he repeats, setting his book facedown. “That must be one hell of a pen.”

“It’s one of those gel pens. You know, the ones that glide smoothly over paper.” Instead of stopping at the front of the security counter, I round the desk and settle into Gus’s chair, collecting my dress so it doesn’t get caught in the wheels. “Good book?” The cover depicts a blurred shadow of a person with a palm held out, as if pressed against a windowpane. A thriller, if I had to guess.

“Good enough.” He sinks back into his chair, his legs splayed. “So your charity gala thing’s over?”

“I went, I mingled, I drank, and then I bolted the second I thought no one would notice.”

Kyle chuckles. “I don’t even know what a gala is, but you make it sound like pure hell.”

“Honestly? It can be. If I could get away with never going to another one of these things, I’d be more than too happy.” I slip off my heels with a sigh, feeling Kyle’s eyes fall to the split in my dress that’s creeping up my thigh to a risqué level. Though I know I probably should, I don’t adjust it.

“You know, I’m not supposed to let anyone back here.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He smirks. “I could get in a lot of trouble for it.”

“Well . . .” I pull the lever on the underside of the chair and adjust it to sit higher, and then push off against the cold marble tile with my sore toes and let the chair spin once. “It’s a good thing I’m not just anyone.”

“No, you definitely aren’t.” He smiles secretively as he reaches for a ballpoint pen. He always liked fumbling with things. Usually it was a cigarette.

“Do you still smoke?” I haven’t smelled tobacco on him.