Eliana

The freezing rain outside the luxury shopping center pounded against the massive glass panels.

I didn't have a coat. I didn't have a bag. All I had was my phone clutched in my trembling hand and the few dollars left in my digital account. I just needed gauze. I needed extra-strength painkillers. I needed to stop the bleeding before I collapsed on the floor.

I turned the corner too quickly, my foot slipping slightly on the floor.

Thud.

I collided directly with a solid, broad chest. Two powerful, steady hands caught me by the upper arms, holding me upright with immense care.

"I’m so sorry," I gasped out, my voice cracking as I fought for breath, desperately trying to pull away out of sheer panic. "I’m so sorry, I didn't see you, I"

"Steady, child.”

I forced my eyes up. The man holding me was older, perhaps in his late fifties, dressed in a charcoal suit that screamed old money and absolute authority.

He didn't let go. Instead, his gaze froze on the right side of my neck, where my soaked sweater had stretched down, exposing my collarbone.

"Sir?" I whispered. "Please, I need to get to the chemist..."

The man didn't seem to hear me. His fingers tightened on my arms.

"The birthmark on your neck... how did you get it?"

I blinked through my tears, entirely confused. "What?"

"The crescent-shaped mark," he demanded.

"Right below your ear. How long has it been there?"

"I... I was born with it," I stammered.

"Please, sir….I…”

“What's your name, dear?"

"Eliana," I breathed, barely conscious.

"My daughter... my daughter had that exact mark. The identical shape.”

"I have to go," I whispered, panic rising again. I couldn't deal with a stranger's delusion right now. I was bleeding out.

"Please," the man said, his voice instantly turning from a command to a desperate plea. "Are you in a hurry? Can we talk outside for just a moment? I am not going to hurt you. I swear it on my life."

He didn't wait for me to answer. He kept a supportive arm firmly around my waist, absorbing most of my weight as he guided me toward the private, VIP exit of the shopping center. The security guards at the doors didn't look at us; they bowed deeply as we passed.

We stepped into the covered, private driveway.

"I know this is incredibly rude, and I promise I have a valid reason," the man said, turning me gently to face him.

Before I could protest, He waved his fingers through my damp hair, brushing a stray lock behind my ear. It felt like a paternal gesture, something I hadn't experienced in a lifetime. But as his hand pulled away, I noticed his fingers subtly retain a few strands of my hair that had caught in his signet ring.

He didn't hide it. He turned slightly toward a towering man dressed in a black suit standing precisely two steps behind him.

"See that you run it right away. Direct priority to the lab."

"Yes, Mr. Rekho," the guard responded instantly, bowing his head.

"Please, can we sit in the car?" the older man Rekho asked, turning back to me, his eyes searching my face with a terrifying intensity. "You are pale, Eliana. You are shivering."

"I shouldn't..." I began, turning my head toward the driveway.

And then, I gasped.

Standing in the center of the VIP lane was a vehicle that didn't look real. It was a sleek, midnight-black Macgrovani hyper-luxury sedan, custom-built, its carbon-fiber body gleaming under the security lights. A coach-built masterpiece worth about 500 million dollars. There were only three in existence globally.

What the hell? Who the hell was this man?

Before my brain could process the sheer absurdity of the wealth standing before me, my legs gave out completely.

"Eliana!" Rekho caught me before I hit the pavement.

Without a word, he lifted me effortlessly into his arms, ignoring the fact that my wet, blood-stained sweater was ruining his multi-thousand-dollar suit. He carried me directly into the back seat of the Macgrovani.

The moment the tension left my body, the dam broke.

A sob tore from my throat, violent and uncontrollable. I curled into myself on the wide leather seat, burying my face in my hands. The betrayal, the slaps from Carmen, Miguel's cold eyes, Henrietta’s bloody arm, the fact that I had given up a piece of my own body for a man who viewed me as a spare part it all crashed down on me at once.

Rekho simply pulled a thick, cashmere blanket over my shoulders and drew me into his side. He wrapped a strong, protective arm around me, letting me cry into his chest.

Somehow, unreasonably, I felt entirely safe in his arms.

"Let it out, child," Rekho murmured, his hand gently resting on my shoulder, deliberately avoiding my stomach as if he already knew I was fragile. "You're safe now. No one is going to touch you."

I told him about Miguel.

I must have drifted into a state of semi-consciousness, because the next thing I knew, the car had stopped. The door opened, and Rekho helped me step out.

I looked up, and my breath caught again.Miguel’s mansion look like a guest house. It was a massive, historic villa surrounded by high stone walls, towering gates, and immaculate gardens.

"Come," Rekho said softly, keeping his arm firmly around my waist as he led me through the grand double doors into a sprawling, marble-floored foyer.

A young man was sitting on a sofa in the center of the living room.

He was devastatingly handsome the kind of sharp, aristocratic beauty that looked straight out of a high-fashion luxury magazine. He had thick, dark hair brushed back, a sharp jawline covered in a shadow of stubble, and intense, grey eyes that were currently glued to a sleek silver laptop resting on his lap. He wore a crisp white shirt with the top three buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest.

Rekho stopped abruptly in his tracks, his brow furrowing as he looked at the young man.

"Aren't you sick?" Rekho asked, his tone a mix of stern authority and genuine fatherly concern. "Why are you working?"

"I’m fine, father.”

His voice had a flawless british accent. He stood up, and I realized he was incredibly tall easily six foot three, with a powerful, athletic build that commanded the entire room.

Rekho let out a soft sigh, turning slightly to me. "I’m so sorry, dear. That is Craig, my son."

Craig finally turned his grey eyes toward us. He looked at his father, then his gaze slid over to me. His expression didn't change. It remained completely aloof, cold, and entirely unbothered. He looked at my soaked sweater, my pale face, and my blood-stained hands as if I were a piece of stray luggage his father had picked up on the road.

He completely ignored me. He didn't say hello. He didn't ask who I was.

"The security detail said you went to the commercial center," Craig said to his father, his British accent clipping the words perfectly. "I didn't realize you were bringing home company."

"We will discuss it later," Rekho said firmly. He turned to a head maid who had quickly appeared in the hall. "Martha, get her settled into the master suite immediately. Run a warm bath, prepare the finest linen, and have the doctor come up to check her side. She is injured."

"Right away, sir," Martha said, bowing.

"No, please," I protested weakly, taking a step back from Rekho. "I can't stay here. I don't even know you. I just need a cab to a motel"

"Eliana," Rekho said, his voice incredibly soft but unyielding. "Look at me. You are bleeding through your clothes. You have nowhere to go. Let my staff care for you tonight. You don't have to worry about anything. I promise."

"Thank you," I whispered.

.

The maid brought me to a room that was larger than my entire apartment. A massive king-sized bed with silk sheets sat in the center. A fire was already crackling in the hearth. Martha helped me into the adjoining marble bathroom, where a deep, steaming tub filled with lavender oils was waiting.

"I can handle it from here, thank you.”

She smiled warmly and left a pair of silk pajamas on the counter before stepping out.

I cleaned myself as best as I could without submerging the wound, the warm water soothing my aching muscles. After drying off, I wrapped a fresh, clean bandage from the medical kit Martha had left, then pulled on the oversized silk pajamas. They were incredibly soft against my bruised skin.

I stepped back into the bedroom, intending to climb into the bed and disappear into sleep.

Instead, I froze.

Craig was standing by the French doors leading to the balcony. He had a glass of amber liquid in his hand, swirling it slowly. The firelight cast long, sharp shadows across his aristocratic face.

My heart skipped a beat, a sudden rush of heat hitting my cheeks. "What... what are you doing in here?"

"My father told me everything.” I swallowed hard, clutching the silk fabric of my shirt tightly over my chest. "He shouldn't have. It's none of your business."

“Are you okay?”

"I don't need your pity, Craig," I said, my voice shaking as he got closer. I backed up until the back of my legs hit the edge of the mattress.

He didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of me. The scent of his expensive woodsmoke cologne and high-end liquor filled my senses, making my head spin. Up close, he was even more intimidating. His jaw was clenched, his eyes dark with a strange, simmering anger.

"I don't pity you, Eliana," Craig whispered, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned down slightly, bringing his face inches from mine."I find it utterly pathetic that a man was stupid enough to let a woman like you go."

"You don't know anything about my husband," I whispered, my voice barely a breath.

Bang.

Craig stepped back instantly, his mask of cold indifference slipping back over his face in a split second.

Rekho stood in the doorway. He was panting, his silver hair slightly disheveled, his hands trembling violently as he held a piece of white paper.

"Father?" Craig asked.

"The lab just called back," Rekho choked out, his voice breaking completely as he looked into my eyes. "The DNA test... it's a ninety-nine point nine percent match."

"You're my daughter," he cried. "Eliana... you're my long-lost daughter."

Eliana

It had been exactly seven days.

Seven days since I dragged my bleeding, broken body out of Miguel’s mansion and into the freezing rain. Seven days since my entire reality shattered.

And seven days since Rekho, the most powerful billionaire, looked at the birthmark on my neck and realized I was the daughter he had been mourning for twenty-five years.

My wounds from the kidney surgery were finally healing, I looked at my reflection and barely recognized the woman staring back.

Martha, the head maid, had brought in a team of elite Parisian stylists. I was wearing a custom-made, midnight-black gown.

A soft knock echoed through the room.

"Come in.”

Over the past week, I had learned everything about the man standing before me. Craig wasn't Rekho’s biological son; he had been adopted from an orphanage in London when he was ten. But he didn't coast on the Rekho name. Craig had built his own massive empire from the ground up.

"The cars are downstairs," Craig said.

"Rekho is waiting in the main foyer. He wants to make sure the press is completely"

Craig stopped.

He froze mid-sentence, his hand still resting on the brass doorknob. His grey eyes slowly dragged up the length of my body, tracing the slit of my dress, lingering on the curve of my waist, before finally locking onto my face.

Then, just as quickly, the heavy iron mask slammed back into place.

"You look..." Craig cleared his throat softly, looking away toward the window. "You look presentable, Eliana. Let's go."

"Thank you, Craig," I whispered, hiding the sudden rush of heat in my cheeks.

Tonight was the annual Rekho Global Summit, an exclusive gala where the elite of the elite gathered to grovel for investments.

When we stepped into the massive, gold-gilded ballroom, the sheer scale of the wealth was suffocating. Thousands of crystal chandeliers hung from the painted ceilings. Waiters carried trays of champagne that cost more than a car.

Rekho held my hand tightly, his chest puffed with absolute pride.

"Smile, my darling," Arthur murmured, kissing my cheek. "Tonight, they all bow to you."

"Eliana, I want you to meet Bella," Arthur said, gesturing to a stunning woman in a red dress.

I gasped softly. It was Bella, the A-list Hollywood actress I had adored for years.

"Oh, darling, look at you!" Bella smiled warmly, taking my hands. "Arthur hasn't stopped talking about you all week. You look absolutely devastating."

"Thank you, it's an honor to meet you," I smiled, feeling a genuine spark of happiness.

Through it all, I could feel Craig. Every time I turned my head, those piercing grey eyes were already on me, watching, protecting, consuming.

"I'm going to get a glass of water," I told Rekho gently.

"Take the private corridor to the left, dear," he replied.

I slipped away from the crowd, craving just two minutes of silence.

"What the hell are you doing here, Eliana?"

I froze. My blood ran ice-cold.

I turned around slowly.

Miguel stood there, dressed in a sharp tuxedo. And clinging to his arm like a parasite was Henrietta, dripping in the diamonds that my kidney had effectively paid for.

Of course he was here. Miguel’s company was hemorrhaging money. He was desperate for a contract with the Rekho conglomerate to save his failing margins.

"I asked you a question," Miguel demanded, his dark eyes flashing with arrogance as he stepped closer. "How did you get past security? Are you stalking me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Miguel," I said, my voice dead calm. The fear I thought I would feel was completely gone. Looking at him now, he just looked small.

"What is the meaning of all this?" Miguel sneered, gesturing aggressively to my custom gown and the diamond necklace resting against my collarbone. "Did you steal those? Are you tricking some old, rich fool into paying your bills now? I knew you were cheap, but this is a new low."

"Miguel, please," Henrietta whined, stepping forward and glaring at me with pure disgust. "She's just trying to cause a scene to ruin our night."

"Why can't you get over the fact that it's over, Eliana?" Miguel scoffed, puffing out his chest to feed his massive ego. "I abandoned you. I divorced you. You were nothing but a spare part for my health. Move on!"

"Seriously," Henrietta chimed in, crossing her arms. "Move on! You are pathetic. Now get out before I have the security throw you out into the street where you belong."

"Is there a problem here?"

Craig stepped out, He looked lethal.

Miguel's face instantly shifted from arrogant to completely terrified. He knew exactly who Craig was. Every businessman in the world was terrified of Craig.

"Mr. Rekho," Miguel stammered, immediately releasing Henrietta's arm. "No, sir. No problem at all. We were just... dealing with a trespasser. This woman has been harassing my fiancé."

Craig kept his eyes locked on me.

"Are you ready, Eliana?" Craig asked softly. "Petrax is walking to the podium."

"Yes," I said, stepping right past Miguel and Henrietta without giving them a second glance.

"Wait, Mr. Rekho, you know this woman?" Miguel asked, utter confusion lacing his voice.

Craig finally turned his head. He looked at Miguel the way a lion looks at a dying rat. "Keep your mouth shut, Miguel. Before I buy your pathetic little company tomorrow morning and liquidate it for sport."

Miguel turned stark pale.

Craig placed a warm hand on my lower back, guiding me back into the main ballroom.

The orchestra stopped playing. The low murmur of the thousands of guests faded into absolute silence as Petrax Rekho stepped up to the gold microphone at the center of the grand stage.

Miguel and Henrietta followed us into the room, standing at the edge of the crowd, watching closely.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Arthur’s booming voice echoed through the massive speakers. "I did not invite you here tonight to discuss mergers or stock margins."

The room held its collective breath.

"Twenty-five years ago, my heart was ripped from my chest when my infant daughter was taken from me," Arthur continued, his voice thick with emotion. Tears shined in his dark eyes. "I spent my life building this empire with empty hands. But a week ago, a miracle walked back into my life."

Rekho looked directly at me. He smiled.

"I want to introduce you all to the sole biological heir of the Rekho Conglomerate," Petrax announced loudly. "My blood. My daughter. Eliana Rekho."

A collective, deafening gasp ripped through the ballroom.

I stepped forward into the blinding spotlight. The camera flashes erupted like a violent thunderstorm. Thousands of eyes stared at me in pure shock and awe.

But I only looked at one person.

Miguel.

He was standing near the ice sculpture. His jaw was entirely unhinged. The crystal champagne glass slipped from his fingers and shattered into a hundred pieces on the marble floor. The color completely drained from his face until he looked like a corpse.

Henrietta looked like she was going to throw up. She grabbed the edge of a table, her knees literally buckling under the weight of the realization.

The plain, broke girl they threw out into the rain was the heir to an empire that could buy their entire bloodline ten times over.

The media rushed forward, shouting questions, thrusting microphones over the velvet ropes. Rekho kept a protective arm around me, smiling for the cameras.

After twenty minutes of the frenzy, Rehko leaned in. "Go catch your breath, darling. I'll handle the vultures."

I nodded and carefully made my way out of the flashing lights, heading toward the private VIP lounge.

"Eliana!"

I stopped.

Miguel was running toward me, pushing through the crowd of elite guests. His tuxedo was slightly rumpled, his hair messy. He looked completely unhinged. Desperate.

"Eliana, wait!" Miguel begged, his chest heaving as he stopped in front of me. "Please, just listen to me."

"Don't speak to me," I said coldly.

"I didn't know!" Miguel pleaded, his voice cracking. He reached out and actually grabbed my bare arm. "You didn't tell me who you were! If I had known, I never would have—"

"You never would have treated me like a spare part?" I laughed bitterly. "You're disgusting, Miguel."

Henrietta finally caught up to him. She stood a few feet away, her face bright red, looking so humiliated she couldn't even make eye contact with me.

"Please, Eliana, we can fix this," Miguel groveled, his fingers tightening on my skin. He stepped closer, trying to lower his voice. Then, he looked past me and saw Craig standing a few feet away, watching us.

Suddenly, the desperate groveling turned into toxic, irrational jealousy.

"Is this what this is?" Miguel hissed, his face twisting in fury. "You threw yourself at another man? You're sleeping with Craig now to get back at me? I'm your husband, Eliana!"

"Take your hand off me," I warned.

"You're coming with me," Miguel demanded, tugging my arm intimately, trying to assert his dominance. "We are going to talk about this"

A massive hand shot out of nowhere and clamped around Miguel's throat.

Craig didn't just push him. He lifted Miguel entirely off his feet and slammed him violently backward into a marble pillar.

"Aah!" Miguel choked, his hands clawing uselessly at Craig’s iron grip.

"I told you to keep your mouth shut," Craig growled, his British accent completely dropping into a dark, feral snarl. His grey eyes were pitch black with pure, unadulterated rage. "If you ever touch her again, if you ever breathe in her direction again, I will tear you apart with my bare hands. Do you understand?"

Miguel nodded frantically, his face turning purple.

Craig dropped him in disgust. Miguel collapsed to the floor, coughing violently while Henrietta rushed over, too terrified to speak.

Craig didn't wait. He grabbed my hand, his grip warm and possessive, and dragged me down the hallway.

"Craig, wait—" I started.

He didn't listen. He pulled me past the security guards, shoved open the heavy oak doors of a private, dimly lit VIP suite, and pulled me inside.

He kicked the door shut and locked it.

Before I could process what was happening, Craig spun me around and pinned me gently but firmly against the wall. His large hands braced on the wood on either side of my head, trapping me completely.

His chest heaved. He was breathing so heavily I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Craig," I whispered, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs. "What are you doing?"

"I am losing my mind, Eliana," Craig rasped, leaning his forehead against mine.

His scent—expensive cologne, dark whiskey, and pure danger—wrapped around me completely. My breath hitched as his gaze dropped to my lips.

"I've never felt this way before," Craig confessed, his voice a rough, desperate whisper. He brought one hand up, his long fingers threading into my hair, tracing the sensitive skin of my jaw. "I am a rational man. I control everything. But you... why do you seem to bring out the emotions in me that I didn't even know I had?"

"We just met," I breathed, trembling under his touch.

"I don't care," he stated fiercely. His thumb brushed across my lower lip, sending a massive jolt of electricity straight to my core. "I could barely contain my emotions seeing how he touched you. Seeing him put his filthy hands on what is mine."

"Yours?" I gasped softly.

"Mine," Craig confirmed, his eyes burning into my soul.

He didn't give me a chance to argue.

Craig suddenly leaned down and crashed his lips against mine.

It wasn't gentle. It was completely consuming. It was a kiss fueled by a week of pent-up tension, jealousy, and explosive chemistry. My mind completely blanked. Every coherent thought evaporated as his tongue swept into my mouth, demanding complete surrender.

I let out a soft whimper, my hands instinctively reaching up to fist in his thick, dark hair.

Craig groaned deep in his chest at the sound. He pressed his massive body flush against mine, molding my soft curves against his hard planes. His hands roamed frantically, trailing down my neck, over my collarbone, gripping my waist tightly to pull me even closer.

The heat between us was completely out of control.

"Eliana," he breathed heavily against my lips, his kisses trailing down my jawline and sinking into the sensitive skin of my neck.

His hand found the zipper at the back of my custom gown.

With one smooth, fluid motion, he pulled it down. The black silk slipped off my shoulders, pooling slightly at my waist, exposing the lace of my lingerie.

Craig stepped back just a fraction of an inch to look at me. His eyes were dark, incredibly hungry, completely captivated by what he saw. He reached out, his warm fingers tracing the edge of the lace on my chest.

"You are so damn beautiful," he whispered thickly, leaning back in to capture my lips again.

Eliana

My eyes fluttered closed as Craig leaned in, and I was inches away from letting him kiss, but then I regained my senses.

“No…” I murmured, pulling away. It was quite difficult because I wanted this but… no! “I’m sorry, Craig, but this can't happen,” I said, looking straight into his dark eyes.

They were glowing with unblemished heat and raw desire, barely contained.

I detangled myself from his arms, taking a small step back.

“Why?” He asked, that one word capturing everything else he wanted to say.

Taking a few steps away, I faced him squarely.

“Well, for one… you're my brother. It's wrong not to mention that we just met. I don't really know you!” I rushed the words out, rambling.

There was a brief moment of silence where I could feel his gaze brushing across my shoulders like a gentle caress.

“Is that all?” His British accent rubbed against me softly. “Come on, Eliana. You know that I'm not Rekho’s biological son; besides, I've told you how much I want you. Since the first moment I saw you-”

He trailed off to slowly walk towards me until he was standing less than a foot away, brushing his fingers down my cheek.

“I know you feel this thing between us too, don't you?”

A shiver ran through my spine, down to my core at his raw intensity.

If there's one thing I know, it's that Craig is unlike any man I've ever known.

He reached down to my back, sliding his hand through my waist. “I might not have all the answers for you right now, but I know this is right. Very, very right…”

His gaze roamed through my clothes, resting on my exposed white lace. The heat through his gaze was searing, lighting me up from the inside.

Red spots appeared on my cheeks during the innocent act, even though we had been kissing a few moments ago.

I desperately wanted to feel Craig's hands on my body. I briefly glanced down at his hands; they looked like they could properly pleasure a woman. But no matter how aroused I felt, it didn't eradicate the things Miguel did to me.

The lies, the emotional and physical abuse…

Unconsciously, my hand drifted towards my stomach, in the direction of my kidney.

Following my hands, his gaze turned icy cold; it felt like he could crush someone beneath it. I could almost taste his anger; it was that palpable.

“Don’t do that, Eliana.” Craig rasped, his voice a lethal whisper. “Not all men are like that asshole, Miguel! I promise I won't ever hurt you as he did, I swear! He's a fool for treating you like that!”

Gently raising his hands to cup the sides of my face, he brushed a loose curl away, tucking it behind my ear. “I'm gonna protect you and no one, especially that slime, Miguel, can ever hurt you again.”

His words rang true with sincerity, but if there's anything I've learnt from my ordeal with Miguel is that men will say anything to get what they want.

How can I trust that Craig isn't doing the same thing to me right now?

The truth is… I don't.

And that is no way to live, second-guessing and doubting every word that people say to me.

If I was going to heal from what Miguel did to me, then I needed to take some time… and just be alone, separate reality from the horrors I had endured.

“I'm sorry, Craig…” For the second time in less than 5 minutes, I pulled away again, regret coating my words. “But I can't. Not because I don't trust you, but because I don't trust myself right now, and the truth is, I need some time. I went through unimaginable things with Miguel, and I can't just ignore that and be with another man.”

“You're right.” His eyes flashed with understanding, and he nodded slowly, dropping his hands. “I understand. I'll give you all the time you need.”

“Excuse me?” I was taken aback by his words.

“Yes, you heard me right.” He stated in a tone that suggests any argument is futile. “I don't care how long you need or how much it's going to cost me, but I will wait for you.”

My mouth drops open because that was not what I was expecting to hear. “Craig…”

“Trust me, Eliana.” He murmurs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

Then, before I could say anything, he turned around and walked away, the smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

The whole interaction left me so flustered that I had to use the edge of my dress to lightly dab at my neck, suddenly feeling hot.

When that didn't work in making me cool down, I chose to leave the crowded room and go somewhere else.

Like the garden.

Slipping out through a hidden door, I found my way to a small secluded space by the side of the house, the scent of flowers assaulting my senses almost immediately.

As I stood there, I could almost feel a weight lift off my chest, a gentle breeze brushing over my skin.

From this vantage point, it felt like I was one with nature, and the rest of the world just faded into the background.

As I stood there, watching the trees sway gently in the night, I could hear my thoughts clearly.

I went over the list of things that have happened since I met my biological father. The way my life improved in a 360-degree measure and now with the latest addition, Craig declaring his feelings for me…

It was a lot to take in.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear the stranger wake up to me until he spoke,

“If I had known that there was going to be someone as beautiful as you here, then I would have shown up earlier.”

Startled, I turned to watch a young guy slowly approach me.

He was handsome and tall, almost as tall as Craig, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow in the twilight.

His strides screamed arrogance, the kind of confidence that came with wealth and privilege.

But despite his normal appearance, there was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way.

“Excuse me?” I managed to say.

He came to a stop a few feet away, smiling at me in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

“So you're the long-lost daughter of Rehko; you look better in person!” He stretched out his arm for a shake, but I hesitated, eyeing him closely.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Oh, pardon my manners!” Placing a hand on his chest, he flashed me a carefree grin. “My name is John Prattville, CEO of Pratt Acquisitions and close friend of your father's.”