An hour after I talked to Zach I’m showered, changed and determined. I step off the bus in the financial district. I know Zach wants to help but I can’t take a chance on waiting for him. If Diana is going to get the help she needs, it’s up to me.

The sound of my sandals clicking across the tile signal the receptionist of my intent to infiltrate the castle. She doesn’t even make the effort to frown, just gives me a bored expression. “You don’t have an appointment,” she states with a bland tone. If she remembers me from yesterday, she doesn’t show it.

“I’m sure he’ll want to see me.”

She assesses my sundress and flat sandals and scoffs. Keeping an eye on me, she lifts her phone and speaks in a low, sultry voice, probably to the other receptionist. Never wavering in her disdainful expression, she lowers the phone and waits. After a short interval, the phone buzzes. She raises it to her face, listens, lowers it again. So much like a robot it’s scary.

Without speaking, she tips her plastic head to the elevator, indicating I’m cleared.

I don’t pause to acknowledge the upstairs receptionist as she tells me to have a seat, that Mr. Knightly will see me in a moment.

Fuck that. I’m not waiting.

I accelerate at full throttle and get a head start on her.

“Hey.” She sounds startled, like she has no idea what to do. “You can’t—”

I take off down the hallway. It feels like a prisoner’s sprint to execution but it’s the only way to save Diana.

With one deep inhale, I grasp the door knob and twist, bursting into his office with the force of my determination. “When do I start?”

A startled Jonas sits on the leather sofa with a porcelain teacup balanced in his hand. My eruption into the room must have made him jerk and spill his tea and a wet spot spreads across his creamy linen trousers. He smooths over the irritation on his face and forces a kind smile. It’s even more frightening that he’s shark-toothed grin.

His behavior must have something to do with the regal woman perched on the edge of some kind of Louis the Something fancy-assed chair. A teacup and saucer also rest on her palm, though I’m certain she hasn’t bobbled a drop. She seems unruffled, but mildly curious.

Jonas sets his cup on the mahogany coffee table and jumps up, hurrying across the office. “Kylie! My goodness. I’m so glad you’ve let yourself in.”

I allow him to take my hand. What the hell is going on here? I’d prepared myself to face a belligerent, arrogant asshole who would make me beg for the opportunity to be exploited. He wouldn’t play nice and the sadist would make me suffer. I hadn’t expected to burst in on a damned tea party.

And honestly, tea? Who is Jonas fooling, Mr. G&T and High-priced Scotch? I glance at the wet bar. No crystal decanters or cocktail glassware. A silver tea service fills the space instead.

The white-haired woman in the flowing floral print dress watches us with the hint of a smile.

Jonas pulls me toward her. “Mother, this is Kylie Sawyers. Kylie, this is Mrs. Knightly.”

She doesn’t move for a split second and I wait. Mom taught me that good manners dictate the elder or more influential person in the introduction should initiate a handshake. Her smile warms and she extends her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Kylie.”

I take her hand. “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Knightly.”

I’m sure her eyes register approval at my rote acceptance of the old-fashioned manners Mom drilled into me and that I’d seen practiced by the princesses at the sorority house.

Mrs. Knightly sweeps her arm at the sofa. “Won’t you join us? Jonas and I’ve finished with business and were enjoying a nice visit.”

Jonas steps back. “Kylie is here to sign her contract. She’s going to be the newest addition to Liesa’s Life. I’m sure with her busy schedule, she doesn’t have time to natter with two old folks like you and me.”

My god, Jonas is nervous. I wish I could hang out here and watch him squirm. Is he afraid I’ll tell his mother that he’s my father? That thought blindsides me and I draw in a quick breath. This woman, Jonas’s mother, is my grandmother. Sitting with her back ramrod straight, her chin out, head high, she looks like a queen.

Her blood flows in my veins.

I flick my focus to Jonas, who looks short and stalky, smarmy and low-class by comparison. I settle back on Mrs. Knightly and we hold each other’s gaze. It might be my imagination, but I feel something pass between us. A recognition of something deep inside.

I can’t resist extending my hand to her. I want to touch her, feel the skin of my grandmother, even if she never knows who I am. With deep sincerity, I say, “I’d love nothing more than to have tea with you. But Jonas is right. I have something urgent I have to do.”

Mrs. Knightly’s smile fades slightly. Her hand is warm when she takes hold of mine and squeezes it. “A pity. Maybe some time soon.”

Jonas moves slowly toward the door, so different from his usual gallop everywhere. I can imagine Mrs. Knightly reprimanding him while he grew up to settle down and walk like a gentleman. I don’t feel at all sorry for him.

He holds the door for me and follows me out. As soon as it clicks shut, he grabs my arm and drags me down the hall. “You’re damned lucky I don’t fire you before you even start. Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. Never come into my office uninvited. Never. Got that?”

“No, you won’t.” I stop in my tracks and jerk my arm out of his grasp.

His mouth falls open and he flushes an unhealthy shade of purple. “Excuse me?”

He reaches for me again, but I move away from him before he can grab me. “You won’t fire me because I’m your golden goose.”

He looks at me, nearly eye to eye while his color returns to normal. “You show this kind of moxy on the screen and we’ll all profit.”

We walk to the receptionist’s desk and he holds out his palm. She slaps a folder into it and he shoves it at me. “Here’s your contract. You could have signed it and left, saving us all a lot of trouble.”

“And miss the opportunity to meet my grandmother?” I add lightness to my voice. “She’s lovely and so warm.”

The receptionist actually shows some life at that. Her eyebrows shoot up in what looks like shock.

Jonas pokes his finger where my sundress meets the skin at my neck. “Don’t get any ideas. She’s not some soft old lady.”

I open my palms and show them to him in a hands-off gesture. “I’m just here to earn my paycheck. Speaking of which, I’ll need a ten thousand dollar signing bonus.”

“A what?”

“You heard me.” I put steel in my voice. It’s not hard. All I have to do is think of Diana. “Ten grand. Now.”

He throws back his head and laughs. “That’s not going to happen.”

I look at the unsigned contract and shrug before heading for to the elevator.

“Hey.” He hisses it. Probably afraid his mother will hear him shouting. “You wait just a god—”

Without turning, I say, “You want me, you pay.”

I reach out and tap the down button. God, what if he changes his mind? He’s my last hope. Everything inside me flutters and crashes. I hold my breath and count. I can’t turn around. Can’t let him win this round.

“Okay.” He sounds mad enough to shoot me. “Sign the contract and I’ll have the money wired to your account.”

I almost cave but I think of Diana. Broken and in pain, depending on me to save her. Mom, her face gray, dark circles pitting her once-vibrant eyes, life sifting away in front of me. “No.” I shake my head. “Money first—and I watch you make the transfer.”

“What?” He’s back to affable Jonas. I can almost hear the come on, let’s be pals grin in his voice. “You don’t trust your old man?”

“You’re not my old man.” I turn my head, playing it cool even though I can feel every second slip away from me. I can’t let him know how desperate I am. He’s a shark. He’ll smell blood in the water and use it against me. He won’t win this. Not from me. Not from Diana. “You’re not my anything, remember?”

The cables behind the elevator door rumble and groan before belching out a ding. The doors slide open and I have to force myself onto it. Turning, I reach out to punch the button for the lobby.

“Fine.” He doesn’t hiss it this time. He shouts it. “But if you don’t sign I’ll—”

I step off the elevator, though I’m so dizzy with relief I’m not even sure how I’m remaining upright. “I’ll sign.” I glare at him, the elevator doors swooshing closed behind me. “I may have inherited your head for numbers, but my honesty—I got that from my mother.”