~NICHOLAS'S POV~
The moment I heard Irene's car on the driveway, I was twelve years old again.
I straightened my tie, an unconscious sign born from years of her critical gaze.
Even now, twenty-five years after she had taken me in, her arrival still triggered the same automatic response....spine straight, expression uninterested, vulnerabilities hidden.
The boy who showed weakness didn't survive in Irene Vasquez's world.
"You look troubled, sir." Carlos appeared at my side, his face betraying nothing as he handed me a glass of scotch.
I accepted it without comment, downing it in one swallow. The burn was familiar, grounding. "Have security sweep her vehicle and bags. Thoroughly."
"Already done." Carlos hesitated. "She brought only her personal guard. Two men."
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