Darian was on his feet before Nia could say anything.
"I'll go to reception," he said.
"No." She stood too. "We go together."
He looked at her.
"She came here," Nia said quietly. "To my office. On a Monday morning without calling anyone." She picked up her jacket from the back of her chair and put it on with the deliberate composure of someone deciding in real time who they were going to be in the next thirty minutes. "We go together."
Margaux Ashford was standing at reception with her back to the room looking at the West Loop through the floor to ceiling windows when they came through the glass doors.
She turned when she heard them.
She was dressed in the way of a woman who had never once left her house without understanding exactly what her appearance communicated: cream coat, und
