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When the elevator dings, I turn to see the silver doors slide open. Cynthia scans the room, forehead creased, until her gaze lands on me.

The expression on her face is priceless.

Her eyes widen. The smile on her lips drops to a thin line. Her complexion pales to almost the same stark white as the walls.

Grinning, I meet her at the center of the lobby under a large chandelier, which, from the look on her face, she’s hoping will fall on my head.

“What are you doing here?” she seethes.

“Apparently you didn’t get the invitation to your daughter’s housewarming party, so I thought I’d deliver it in person.”

Her nostrils flare. “I don’t have time for this right now. I have meetings—”

“No problem. I can wait.” I pull off my old leather jacket. Wearing only a faded black T-shirt, my muscular but very scarred, tattooed arms are on full display. Cynthia watches in horror as I flop onto a small leather couch and put my boots up on the glass table.

“Get your filthy feet off that table and get the hell out of here,” she practically growls.

The receptionist’s mouth falls open as she peeks at us from behind her computer screen.

“Careful, Cynthia,” I say, chewing my gum. “Your mask is slipping.”

Straightening, she plasters a fake smile on her face. “Why don’t you come up to my office where we can speak privately?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” I stand and follow her to the elevator.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming to my office,” she says after the doors have closed.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve ignoring my mother’s calls andemails. And treating your beautiful daughter like shit.” I step closer to her, and she backs up until her spine hits the wall. “Let’s get something straight, Cynthia. Nobody treats the people I love like dirt. I’ll train you like a fucking feral dog until you start acting right.”

Fear flashes in her blue eyes.

“Like it or not, I’m here to stay. I’m marrying Holly. You can make this easy, or you can make it hard.” I pop my gum in her face. “And guess what? Hard is gonna be a helluva lot of fun for me and pure torture for you.”

The doors slide open on the fifth floor and I follow her down a long hallway, ignoring the curious faces peeking at me from gray cubicles. How can people sit in little boxes all day?

“What exactly do you want, Mr. Grace?” Cynthia asks as she leads me into her office, featuring a wall of windows. She closes the door behind us, then walks around her large desk and sits, gesturing to one of the two chairs on the opposite side like we’re in a job interview.

Sitting, I say, “Come on, Cynthia, I’m gonna be your son-in-law. Call me Tyler.”

Not looking at me, she begins typing on her keyboard, eyes riveted on the slim monitor in front of her. “I’m losing patience with you, Tyler. In case you haven’t noticed, this is a place of business, and I have a lot of important work to do—”

I grab the power cord from her monitor and yank it out.

Her shocked gaze flies to me. “Put that back,” she demands through clenched teeth.

“I’m going to shove it up your ass if you don’t pay attention to me. You have a really hard time treating people you think are below you like humans, don’t you?”

The quiver of her bottom lip tells me I struck a nerve.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask her. “Your daughter is beautiful. Smart. Sweet. Caring. Classy. She wakes up happy every day. She’s a true survivor. Which is a miracle considering what she went through. But you treat her like she’s damaged goods, or like she’s a derelict stranger.”

“Sheisa stranger to me. She’s not my little girl—”

I shake my head in disbelief. “She is. Why can’t you see that? Isn’t she everything you’d want her to grow up to be?”

Her eyes water. “What that man did to her, it’s…” She shakes her head. “It’s disgusting. Unthinkable and deprived—”

“Exactly. Whathedid toher. To a defenseless child. He’s the fucking pig, not her.”