The West House was one of those restaurants that only people with a lot of money could afford to visit. The place was cozy, elegant, and it had a strict dress code—if you weren’t dressed formally, you wouldn’t even make it past the reception desk.
Of course, one of my plans when my father returned from his trip was to have dinner with him, but that plan definitely did not include the Gray family. To be fair, they were all very nice people, except for their eldest son. Nate Gray was a complete i***t.
As soon as we crossed the reception area, my father, Francis (who, as always, had to accompany my father everywhere), and I were greeted by a voluptuous woman with curly hair. The moment she saw my father, she started fluttering her eyelashes uncontrollably.
William Donovan wasn’t just known
