Page 56 of Keep Him Like Secrets

Her posture relaxed. Because, really, who out of us hadn’t been driven half-crazy by a man before?

By the time I caught sight of Soren’s building, I was sure I was going to turn around, go home, and chalk this stupidity up to too much whiskey and the need to take some man—any man, not thisoneman—to bed.

But as I closed in on the front door, the man outside of it in his doorman uniform gave me a soft smile.

“I believe you must be Miss Amato,” he said, making me stiffen.

“What? How do you know that?”

“Forgive me, miss,” the doorman—Walter, his name tag declared—said. “But Mr. Vale gave me a description of you and told me to let you up if you came by.”

“When did he say that?”

“I suppose, originally, a few weeks ago. But he reminds me daily.”

He did?

“Daily?” I asked, dubious.

“Sometimes he asks if I just saw you, but you didn’t come in. I was starting to feel bad about having nothing to report. Am I going to be telling him you happened past, or…”

There was actual hope in the man’s voice. Like he would be genuinely heartbroken for Soren if I chose not to go up.

What kind of man got that kind of loyalty from the people in the periphery of his life? This wasn’t the first time someone who worked for him seemed to authentically care about him.

It was that way with Teresa, his lawyer, and Gav the contractor. Hell, even the exterminator was friendly with Soren.

“Is he home?” I asked, glancing past Walter into the sleek, modern lobby.

“He is, miss. And I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.” Thefinallywas silent.

“Okay,” I said, more to myself than him.

But Walter was quick to whip open the door before I got any ideas about walking off.

“Miss Amato?” Walter called, rushing in behind me.

“Yeah?”

“You’ll need the elevator key,” he said, going behind the desk to rummage around for it. “Here it is,” he said, proudly waving a drop key—a long, cylinder to insert into a hole in the elevator to unlock it—attached to some sort of keychain. “It’s that elevator right there,” Walter said, pointing toward where one was half-hidden by a wall.

“Thanks, Walter,” I said, taking the key and walking toward the elevator before I talked myself out of it. And likely broke poor Walter’s heart.

I stabbed the key in the lock and then stepped inside the elevator car. It was smaller than a typical elevator, feeling a little claustrophobic once the doors slid closed.

That was really the only reason I turned my attention to the key itself—so I didn’t start to feel like the walls were closing in on me.

The key itself was standard.

But the keychain he’d attached to it?

It was a cute, chubby little… cartoon pigeon.

He not only told his doorman about me, reminded him of me daily, and left a key for me to access his private elevator. He’d gone out—or gone online—and tracked down a pigeon keychain because I’d mentioned them. Once.

There it was again, that little swoop in my chest.

Before I could even try to analyze it, though, the car was doing that little drop, and the doors were sliding open.

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