The intercom crackled to life, Morgan's voice flowing through the speaker with artificial sweetness.

"Yes?"

"It's Grayson. We need to talk."

A pause, then the door buzzed open. Grayson stepped into the marble-floored lobby, bypassing the concierge with a curt nod, and headed straight for the elevator. He pressed the button for Morgan’s floor, his jaw set as he watched the numbers climb. She had sent him the address of this place while she had been bugging him to see her since the breakup. ...