“You’re too beautiful to be alone,” my boss’s six-year-old son announced in the middle of the hallway, staring straight at me as if he’d just made the most obvious discovery in the world. “I think you should be my mommy.” Every person around us froze, and when I looked up to find Adrian Kane, one of the most feared mafia bosses in Manhattan, staring at me, I was certain I had just stepped into the most humiliating and dangerous moment of my life.
“Who told you that?”
“Who told you that?”
Noah’s forehead wrinkled.
“Grandma.”
“Grandma told you Mommy said that?”
He nodded.
Then, apparently deciding his explanation was incomplete, Noah pointed at me again.
“And Ms. Bennett makes you laugh.”
Every eye in the hallway moved toward me.
I would have preferred the floor to open beneath my shoes.
“That happened once,” I said.
Noah considered this.
“It still counts.”
One of Adrian’s security men suddenly became deeply fascinated by the wall.
Another looked down at his phone.
Somewhere behind me, someone coughed into a hand that was very obviously hiding a smile.
Adrian noticed.
“Everyone has somewhere else to be.”
The hallway emptied in approximately four seconds.
I remained because I was unfortunately his secretary and therefore had nowhere legitimate to escape to.
Noah looked pleased with himself.
Adrian rubbed a hand slowly across his jaw.
“Come with me.”
For one alarming second, I thought he meant me.
Then Noah obediently took his father’s hand.
Adrian looked at me.
“You too.”
Of course.
I followed them into Adrian’s office.
The door closed behind us.
Noah immediately climbed onto the leather sofa and picked up Gerald the elephant as though he had not just detonated the most uncomfortable conversation in Manhattan.
Adrian remained standing.
I stood beside his desk, still holding the notebook from the meeting.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Adrian looked at his son.
“Your grandmother read you something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A letter.”
Adrian’s fingers tightened slightly against the edge of his desk.
I noticed because I noticed everything about Adrian when he was trying not to react.
It was part of my job.
“A letter from your mother?”
Noah nodded.
“Grandma said Mommy wrote lots.”
“I know.”
Noah tilted his head.
“Did you read yours?”
The question changed something in Adrian’s expression.
He looked away.
“No.”
The answer surprised me.
Noah seemed surprised too.
“Why?”
Adrian opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
It was an extraordinary thing to witness.
I had watched him negotiate contracts with men twice his age without hesitating. I had watched him walk into rooms containing people who disliked him and leave with every advantage he had wanted.
But he could not answer a six-year-old asking why he had never read a letter.
Finally, Adrian said, “Because sometimes grown-ups are not very brave about certain things.”
Noah frowned.
“You’re brave.”
“Not always.”
That simple admission affected me more than it should have.
Noah climbed off the sofa.
He walked over and wrapped both arms around Adrian’s waist.
Adrian went perfectly still.
Then his hand came down gently over the back of his son’s head.
It was only for a moment.
But everything about him softened.
“I think Mommy would want you to read it,” Noah murmured.
Adrian closed his eyes.
“So does Grandma.”
That almost made me smile.
When Noah finally released him, Adrian looked toward me.
His professional mask returned, but not completely.
There was too much emotion beneath it now.
“Ms. Bennett.”
“Yes?”
“I owe you an apology.”
“For your six-year-old proposing a major change to my employment responsibilities?”
Noah giggled.
Adrian’s mouth twitched.
There it was again.
The laugh Noah had apparently decided was evidence of romantic compatibility.
“I was thinking more about the entire hallway witnessing it.”
“That was not technically your fault.”
“No.”
Adrian glanced at Noah.
“My son has never believed in subtlety.”
“I’m six,” Noah said defensively.
“As you frequently remind me.”
I finally smiled.
And Adrian looked at me.
Really looked at me.
Not the brief, analytical glance he gave when I handed him a document.
Not the distant acknowledgment I received when arriving for work.
Something slower.
Something uncertain.
And because uncertainty looked so strange on Adrian Kane, I became suddenly aware of my own heartbeat.
I closed my notebook.
“I should reorganize the afternoon schedule.”
The moment disappeared.
Adrian nodded.
“Cancel lunch downtown.”
“You have three people flying in from Boston.”
“They can eat without me.”
I blinked.
Adrian never canceled meetings.
“Move them to four.”
“That leaves your three o’clock review.”
“Tomorrow.”
“And the Henderson call?”
“Friday.”
I stared at him.
He raised one eyebrow.
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m trying to determine whether your son has accidentally replaced you with a reasonable person.”
Noah burst into laughter.
Adrian stared at me for half a second before shaking his head.
“Go reorganize my life, Bennett.”
“That appears to be my job.”
When I reached the door, Noah called after me.
“Ms. Bennett?”
I looked back.
“Yes?”
He smiled.
“I still think I’m right.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
I escaped before my face betrayed me.
My name was Claire Bennett.
Which would have been entirely unremarkable except Adrian’s late wife had also been named Claire.
I had learned that fact during my first week working for him and spent the next two years pretending I had never found it strange.
Everyone called me Bennett at work anyway.
Adrian included.
Especially Adrian.
It created enough distance that the coincidence rarely mattered.
That afternoon, however, after Noah’s declaration, I found myself thinking about Adrian’s wife more than I ever had before.
Claire Kane had died four years earlier.
That was all I knew.
Adrian did not keep photographs of her in his office.
He did not discuss her.
The staff never mentioned her unless necessary.
His mother occasionally attended company functions, and Noah’s nanny had once told me, quietly, that Mrs. Kane had been warm and funny and stubborn enough to argue with Adrian without fear.
That description had stayed with me.
I had wondered what kind of woman could love a man like him.
Then I had immediately told myself it was none of my business.
At 12:17, an elderly woman in a navy coat walked directly through reception without waiting to be announced.
I recognized Evelyn Kane immediately.
Adrian’s mother carried herself with the elegant certainty of someone who had spent her entire life entering rooms where people instinctively made space.
Her silver hair was pinned neatly behind her head, and she held a paper shopping bag in one hand.
“Claire.”
I stood.
“Mrs. Kane.”
She frowned.
“If you call me Mrs. Kane again, I’ll assume my son has infected you with his inability to behave like a normal human being.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Evelyn.”
“Much better.”
She looked toward Adrian’s closed door.
“Is he furious?”
“At whom?”
“Me.”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Whether you read Noah one of his mother’s letters.”
Evelyn sighed.
“So he knows.”
“The entire twenty-eighth floor nearly knows.”
Her eyes widened.
“Oh dear.”
I gave her the shortened version.
By the time I finished, Evelyn had one hand over her mouth.
I couldn’t tell whether she was horrified or trying not to laugh.
Possibly both.
“He said you were beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“And that Adrian looks at you?”
“Apparently.”
Evelyn’s eyebrows rose.
I pointed toward the office.
“Do not.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
She smiled.
“I like you.”
“That is becoming increasingly dangerous today.”
Her expression softened.
Then she glanced at the shopping bag.
“I brought Noah lunch.”
I looked inside.
Peanut butter sandwiches cut into stars.
Apple slices.
A small container of carrots.
And something wrapped in foil.
“Cookies?” I guessed.
“Brownies.”
“Bribery.”
“Grandmotherhood.”
Fair enough.
I knocked once before opening Adrian’s door.
He was sitting on the carpet.
That alone stopped me.
Adrian Kane did not sit on floors.
Apparently fathers did.
Noah had arranged toy cars into an elaborate traffic jam across the rug, and Adrian was examining the situation with the same concentration he usually reserved for financial reports.
“There’s been an accident,” Noah explained.
“So I see.”
“This car cannot move.”
“Why?”
“Because Gerald is the bridge inspector.”
The stuffed elephant sat beside a pile of blocks.
Adrian nodded gravely.
“Then we should respect Gerald’s authority.”
Evelyn stepped past me.
“I have lunch.”
Noah jumped up.
“Grandma!”
Adrian did not.
He looked at his mother.
“Mother.”
There were entire paragraphs inside that one word.
Evelyn set down the bag.
“You may lecture me after Noah eats.”
“I wasn’t going to lecture you.”
“Then marriage and fatherhood softened you considerably.”
Something moved behind Adrian’s eyes.
Evelyn noticed it too.
Her face changed.
“I’m sorry.”
Adrian stood.
“No.”
He adjusted his cuffs.
“It’s fine.”
It clearly wasn’t.
I stepped backward.
“I’ll give you privacy.”
“Claire.”
Evelyn’s voice stopped me.
Both Adrian and I looked at her.
For a second, I thought she had forgotten which Claire she was speaking to.
Then she smiled faintly.
“Stay, please.”
I looked at Adrian.
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
Noah was busy unpacking his lunch.
Evelyn sat beside him.
“I did read Noah one of his mother’s letters.”
Adrian leaned against his desk.
“When?”
“Last Sunday.”
“Why?”
“Because he asked me whether his mother loved him before she knew him.”
My chest tightened.
Noah was examining his sandwich as though the answer to the universe might be hidden between the bread.
Evelyn continued gently.
“He had heard another child at school talking about baby pictures. He wanted to know whether Claire had been excited about him.”
Adrian’s expression softened.
“She was.”
“I told him that. Then I showed him one of the letters she wrote when she was pregnant.”
Adrian looked at his son.
Noah smiled.
“She said I kicked a lot.”
“You did.”
“And she said Dad talked to my stomach.”
Adrian blinked.
Noah grinned.
“You did.”
“I was informed conversation encouraged development.”
Evelyn laughed.
“So romantic.”
“I read an article.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
Adrian noticed.
“Not a word, Bennett.”
“I said nothing.”
“Your face did.”
Noah laughed again.
For a few minutes, the heaviness lifted.
Then Evelyn reached into her handbag.
She removed a small cream envelope.
Adrian went still.
I knew immediately what it was.
The handwriting across the front was graceful.
Adrian.
Nothing else.
Evelyn placed it on the desk.
“I brought this too.”
He stared at it.
“You had no right.”
There was no anger in his voice.
