Heath told me I should unseal the box or it would never make it past security, so I grabbed a kitchen knife and slit it open again. It was early afternoon when we hit the road, our truce unspoken. I hadn’t accepted his apology but ultimately I knew—even if he didn’t—that the differences between Adam and me had not been Heath’s doing.
Heath asked me about the details of the commencement ceremony, and told me he’d make plans to be there and sit with my mom. As we drove, my frosted heart that wanted to cling to the resentment began to thaw.
Fifteen minutes later, we exited the 405 freeway and drove down one of the broad, perfectly planned streets that the city of Irvine was known for. Heath turned in to an industrial park that housed the campus of Draco Multimedia Entertainment.
We approached the central building in the complex. It was designed like a modern day castle with intricate turrets of mirrored glass lined in steel. The mirrors caught the early afternoon sunlight and the entire building gleamed as if it were the fabled seat of Camelot. So, the knight protector spent his brooding days inside a castle. Why did that not surprise me?
We entered a huge lobby with a circular information desk. Everything inside was chrome and granite and bright as the daylight outside, thanks to all the windows. Heath and I gaped in awe. There were displays and artwork from the various games produced by the company everywhere and I couldn’t decide where to look first.
In fact, I was so gap-jawed looking at an exact one-quarter replica of “The Mistress’s Lair”—a three-dimensional model of an ice palace—that I forgot to address the guy at security.
“Oh! I’m dropping off a package for Mr. Drake.” The security dude looked unimpressed.
I opened the flap and he made a quick search of the contents, then wrote my name on a temporary badge and instructed me to drop the package off at his assistant’s desk. Then he called back to the desk to let the assistant know that I was coming.
I nodded and shrugged. “Okay.”
Heath was still gazing out over the mezzanine at even more elaborate game displays downstairs. “Oh for God’s sake, go down and look, then. I’m sorry you didn’t get your tour.”
“You okay to walk back there?”
I shrugged. “It’s not that far away and it’s just one of his assistants. He’s still out of the country. I’ll just dump it and be right back.”
Heath wasn’t looking at me. A certain display had caught his eye.
I cleared my throat. “Wow, is that an alien coming up behind you to assault you with an anal probe?”
No reaction.
I laughed and he walked off with a wave of his hand. With my box in hand, I followed the security officer’s directions through a big set of double doors, past glassed-in offices that consisted of open desk configurations—no cubicles, it seemed, at Draco Multimedia. People were working on sleek desktop computers, collaborating over tablets and generally focused on work. It was a hive of organized chaos. Down the central hallway, I continued past a glassed-in atrium and patio with grass and planters and artfully arranged tables, now empty because it was just after lunchtime.
I finally made it into Adam’s neck of the woods. The security officer had made it seem much closer in his directions than it actually was. Adam’s office—and that of the other company officers, for their names were all on the doors—was preceded by a large atrium complete with receptionist and several busy-looking assistants.
I moved to the nearest one. “I’m leaving a package for Mr. Drake. Security said to bring it here?”
The receptionist pointed to an assistant at a desk a little further back. The assistant, a bespectacled college-age looking kid in dress shirt and tie, glanced our way, standing up as I approached. “Ms. Strong?”
“Yes. They told you about this package I was bringing up?”
He shot a curious glance at me and then to the box. “Yes. I’ll need to inspect the contents before I can take it off your hands.”
“Yes, of course. There are just some…personal effects.”
He nodded. “He asked me to tell you he’ll be out in just a moment.”
I frowned, looking up from his work. “Who?”
The assistant looked puzzled. “Mr. Drake.”
“What? But—but he’s still out of town.”
The assistant shot me a concerned look. “No, he came back yesterday. He’s here.”
My eyes rose from his inspection to a set of heavy double doors that led toward the inner sanctum—likely the offices—all lined in glitzy chrome. At that moment, they swung open.
I jumped back from the assistant. “I have to go,” I choked. But I was nailed to my spot when I saw a man and a woman emerge. The man was dressed in an impeccable suit, deadly handsome. My chest tightened as if caught in a constricting band. Adam.