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We are back at History 14, where Daniel promises me the reporters will never get past the reception desk. His parents are in on it, too, and assure me that even though a reporter might dare violate Olga and Christine’s sign and try to bring a camera into the café, there’s an unwritten rule among the history organizations that none of them breach each other’s security. Daniel and I will be fair game once we step back out onto the street or even go back home to his house, but within the walls of the studio, we’re safe.
Daniel leads me up to the third floor.
“No one is ever up here this time of day,” he says. “And I’ll stand watch outside just to make certain you aren’t disturbed.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” There’s a reason why I’ve always felt so safe with him around.
He opens the door to
