Conversations paused. My heart picked up the way it always did, even after three years. The ballroom doors swung open with authority.
Two security personnel entered, moving through the room with the efficient alertness of people trained to find threats and neutralize them. My father puffed up and started toward them. “Excuse me.
This is a private event. The corporate conference is in the West Wing.”
One of them looked through him like he wasn’t there. Then Nathan walked in.
Six foot two, shoulders broadened by years of swimming, a custom suit that communicated wealth without announcing it. Hair slightly windblown from the helicopter. And those eyes, intensely blue, scanning the room in seconds before finding me across the distance.
