Sophia
Noah invited me to a small industry dinner a few weeks after meeting his father properly, something considerably lower key than the galas and formal events I'd only ever glimpsed through unflattering tabloid photos months earlier.
"It's just a few colleagues from my new consulting work," he explained as we got ready that evening, buttoning his shirt while I finished getting dressed in the mirror across the room. "Nothing like the events I used to attend for Hargrove Holdings. No performance required, I promise."
"I trust you," I said, and I meant it fully, the words settling easily now in a way they hadn't during those earlier, uncertain weeks of rebuilding.
The venue turned out to be a warm, unpretentious restaurant rather than the imposing ballrooms I'd braced myself for, and
