"Back?"
Rain hit the stone steps in quick, loud pats. I slammed the umbrella shut with one hand and let the water pour off the fabric in a thin sheet.
"You could have called," I said.
"Calling would have been too polite," Graydon answered from the landing. His voice was calm. That calm always made people nervous.
"Politeness isn't your brand," I said. I shouldered my bag and stepped inside. The foyer smelled of lemon oil and old money.
A footman hovered too close. "Madam Price—"
"Call me Ivory," I cut in. "I'm not here to be announced."
The footman glanced at the marble stair and swallowed. He was young enough to still believe in rules.
Graydon descended slowly, in a dark coat that didn't need an explanation. He stopped three steps up and watched me like a man watching a chessboard where every piece belonged to him.
"You're soaked," he said.
"I got drenched defending a client," I said. "You're the one who filed a hostile notice against my parents' company."
His eyes flicked. "I filed a notice against a competitor. Coincidence that they share a name with your bloodline."
"Don't call it a coincidence," I said. "Call it predictable."
He smiled once, sharp. "Predictability becomes tiresome." He looked at the footman. "Leave us."
The footman hesitated. I raised a hand. "Let him stay."
Graydon's smile didn't change. "You want him to stay to see your sincerity?"
"My sincerity doesn't
