Page 9

NINE

KENJI

I was numb with shock.

Learning the extent to which Landry had lied to me—to everyone—was almost worse than being held hostage by gunmen in a foreign country. At least with the gunmen, it hadn’t been personal.

“No,” Landry—or whatever the fuck his name was—said between clenched teeth.

“No?” My nerves were fading away, to be replaced with sharp rage. “ No ? What? You’re going to keep me hostage, too? News flash, Landry. You don’t have a weapon.”

Which was, of course, a lie. His weapon was his stupid fucking mouth and the bullshit he spouted. Apparently, it had the ability to pierce deeply because I felt like I’d been stabbed in the chest and was bleeding out right now.

I was ashamed to admit that when Jamie had first called Landry by a different name, I’d been sure he’d made a mistake. That was how stupidly far I’d let myself go down the path of trusting Landry. Of letting myself believe in the possibility of a future with him. Now, I didn’t just feel betrayed and angry; I felt like a fool.

“I will send you home on our plane tomorrow,” Landry said. “After the pilots get a fresh sleep window. In the meantime, I need you to let me explain?—”

I ignored the strange thread of vulnerability in his voice. “Pretty sure I got all the explanation I needed from the circus back there. Did they miss anything? Did they get anything wrong? Let’s see… are you, in fact, Everett Davencourt? Yes or no?” I didn’t bother addressing the rumors of a fiancé since that one was obviously so far out of the realm of believable as to be laughable. And I knew from experience during Landry’s modeling career and Zane’s music career that the press would do anything to provoke a response, including telling a bold-faced lie.

Landry’s jaw ticked for a beat. “Yes.”

“And are you a fucking viscount ?” I spat the word like it was disgusting. Because the idea he was a British peer instead of the poor kid he’d pretended to be to the Brotherhood at Yale was unimaginable. Unforgivable .

“Kenji—”

“Yes or no, Lan… My lord !”

“There’s more to it than that,” he snapped, hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “I need to explain.”

“Was your father recently established as an earl?” I asked, suddenly wondering if it was possible he was right. That there was a reasonable explanation behind the secret. “So recently, in fact, you simply haven’t had time to tell me about it?”

Landry’s nostrils flared. “No.”

“When, in fact, was the earldom established in your family?”

He didn’t speak.

The London traffic moved at a snail’s pace. I turned to look out the window as my head pounded.

Landry’s voice was subdued when he finally said, “Sixteen hundred and twenty-four.”

It took me a minute to realize he was referring to the year. It was impossible to wrap my head around. “Your family has been in the British peerage since the time of fucking Galileo ?”

I stared at his profile, wondering if there was a famous painting in a museum somewhere with the same noble features, passed down through aristocratic lines from important men who’d done any number of impressive or nefarious things throughout the years.

“All this time, no one knew?” It was unbelievable. “No one said, ‘Hey, that model in Times Square looks a lot like the nineteenth earl of whatever-the-fuck’? I just don’t understand.”

Suddenly, I realized maybe it wasn’t a secret. Maybe the Brotherhood had always known and I was the one on the outside looking in. My head felt airless, and I made a strange sound in my throat. “Wait, do they know?” I asked in a strangled voice. “Does the Brotherhood know?”

Landry’s head snapped to me. His eyes widened in concern. “Kenj. Breathe, baby. Do you want me to pull over?”

“Do they know, Landry? Am I the only one who?—”

His hand grabbed mine and squeezed. “No! No. They don’t know. No one but my family.” He swallowed. “And, well… the King. And, uh, the prime minister.”

I yanked my hand out of his and buried my face in my hands. I needed to be alone. I needed space. My world was no longer safe in so many more ways than I’d expected only a week ago. “Drop me at a hotel, please.”

“I can’t do that, Kenji. The paps will find you, and they won’t give you any peace. There’s security at the house, and there’s plenty of room for you to have your own space. I promise.”

Within a few minutes, he pulled through a gate into an alley that led into a small underground garage. A young man in a uniform came out of a nearby door and waited for us to pull to a stop.

“Welcome home, sir,” he said to Landry as he opened the driver’s door.

I stared at the kid, my mind going off on a million tangents. How was it possible there was an entire—giant—aspect of Landry’s life I’d had no exposure to? I knew he’d been keeping his personal life close to the vest, but this ?

It was impossible to wrap my head around, and my heart ached when I tried.

“Thanks, Simon,” Landry murmured, handing the man the key before coming over to my side as if he was going to open my door. Instead of waiting for him, I hopped out and moved toward the door to the building. Landry let out a sigh and followed me. “Simon, this is Kenji Toma. He’s allowed full access to the house and vehicles. Please treat him like family, okay?”

The young man’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir. Welcome to Hawling House, Mr. Toma.”

I nodded at him and let Landry lead the way into the vestibule, where there was a small utilitarian office and an elevator. We entered the elevator… and came out in a completely different world.

If I’d ever imagined what a historic home in Regent’s Park would look like if it had been held by the same family for hundreds of years, this was definitely it. Old paintings and framed vintage photos lined the walls. Intricate lamps stood on large antique tables with brass knobs mottled from age. Even the air smelled like old wood and leather. The elevator seemed to open off to the side of the entry hall. A giant vase of fresh flowers sat in the middle of a round table in the center of the open space, and a lush circular rug covered the old wooden floor. A graceful curving staircase led upstairs on the opposite side of the hall, and the ceiling was at least four stories above us. Weak winter light came in through windows on either side of the intricately carved double doors leading to the front walkway.

I could see a sliver of a uniform on a woman dusting a table in a nearby room, and a different woman’s laughter drifted from the back of the house.

“Are you hungry?” Landry asked. “I can introduce you to Nan, who kind of runs this place, or I can take you upstairs to a room…”

He looked nervous, which made it a little harder to hate him… but only a little. “I’d like some privacy to call my grandmother.”

“Of course.” Landry gestured for me to follow him up the wide staircase. “I texted her from the plane to tell her you were safe, but I know she’ll want to hear from you.”

I stopped on the bottom step. “You did?”

“Yes.” He frowned down at me. “I didn’t give her any details,” he hurriedly assured me, as though that was what might be giving me pause.

But I was too angry and hurt to be swayed, even by his consideration for my Baa Baa. I waved a hand impatiently for him to continue up the stairs, and neither of us spoke again until we’d reached the right level and walked far enough down a quiet hallway to a guest room.

“There should be a phone charger in the nightstand and whatever toiletries you need in the bathroom,” he offered quietly from the hallway. “There’s also a minifridge with drinks and snacks. If you want anything else to eat, just text me. And I’ll grab you some more clothes.”

Landry shifted his weight from side to side and kept his eyes on the floor. I refused to feel sorry for him when he was the architect of his own misery.

“Fine.” I stepped into the room and closed the door between us before letting out a breath. My shoulders were around my ears, and I was fighting the sensation of feeling trapped.

The room was more than a guest bedroom; it was a suite of rooms that included a sitting area, a walk-in closet that was more of a dressing room, and a giant, luxurious bathroom with marble floors and antique porcelain and cast-iron fixtures. Everything was well maintained and luxurious in an understated way.

It still felt like a prison since I wanted to be anywhere but there.

I muttered to myself, “I can leave anytime.”

I moved over to the windows in the bedroom and looked out at the barren trees across the street. Several umbrellas bobbed down the sidewalk opposite the house as cars drove by in the afternoon drizzle. It was warm and dry in the house, but February in London was a stark contrast with the sunny weather I’d experienced in San Cordova. It never failed to surprise me how you could travel between such vastly different places in the span of a day.

Just like you could go from thinking you knew a person to feeling like they were a complete stranger in the span of five minutes.

I’d always known Landry was hiding something, but never in a million years did I think it was something like this. I still couldn’t wrap my head around how a British peer could hide while also being on magazine covers, billboards, and the side of London buses. It defied all logic.

And the better question was, why would he hide it?

My head swam with exhaustion and confusion. Maybe it was me . Maybe I was too tired, too overwhelmed by what I’d learned and what I’d been through, and too worried about what was happening in San Cordova to process anything more.

After plugging my phone into the charger, I threw myself on the bed and sank into the luxurious bedding. Despite the sleep I’d gotten on the plane, part of me wanted to curl up under the covers, but I knew my grandmother needed to hear from me directly before she’d believe I was safe.

I dialed her number the second my phone had enough power to turn on.

“Kenji, sweetheart.” Her voice was so familiar and warm my eyes stung.

“Baa Baa. I’m okay. I’m safe.”

“Where are you?”

“London. I’m… I’m with Landry.”

“Ahh. Good. Good .”

“Not good. But safe. Sort of.” I let out a frustrated breath. “It’s a long story. Look, I don’t know if Mom and Dad heard about this on the news?—”

“Don’t worry about that,” she interrupted. “This is probably the silver lining of them being too frugal to spring for the Wi-Fi package on the ship.”

I laughed, but it came out creaky.

“Aw. You sound so tired, honeybunch. Maybe you need a vacation from your vacation now.”

I could hear the teasing smile in her voice. “That’s an understatement. But I think I’d prefer to get back to work.”

“You and your work,” she scoffed. “Someday, you’ll look around and wonder why the fax machine doesn’t love you back.”

I snickered. “I won’t wonder. I’ll know it’s because the fax machine has been dead lo, these many years. May it rest in peace.”

She gave a soft hmph . “Fine. The Xerox machine, then. You get my point.”

“If your point is that you haven’t been in an office since 1986?—”

“You said you would let me fix you up with a nice man when you returned from your retreat, Kenji.”

I blew out a breath. “That’s the last thing I need right now.”

“So you say. When are you coming home? Agatha next door says her nephew lives in Brooklyn and would like to take you to dinner at a place that has live jazz music. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

It did sound nice. More than that, it sounded normal.

“I should be home in a couple of days. I’ll let you know when I get back, and maybe you can give Agatha’s nephew my number.” In the meantime, I would make sure not to answer any unknown calls.

“I’m glad you’re safe, sweetheart.”

After the call ended, I lay back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. It was made up of warm wooden panels with intricate carvings. My headache lingered, so I eventually got up and made my way to the bathroom sink to fill a glass with water.

I drank as much as I could stomach while eying the deep bathtub. It was too tempting to pass up. While I waited for it to fill, I poked through the luxury toiletries displayed in a nearby wooden box and found a Molton Brown bath oil.

Within a few minutes, I was sinking gratefully into the warm, fragrant water, safe from the dreary winter day outside and well on my way to blocking out the reality of my current situation.

I focused on regulating my breathing and beginning a meditation. Chaska’s words ran through my memory.

Close your eyes and settle into the present moment. Feel the ground beneath you, steady and supportive, holding you with care. Take a deep breath in, drawing in peace and clarity, and let it flow out slowly, releasing all tension and worry. With each breath, allow your body to soften, your mind to quiet, and your heart to open. Be here, now. This is your sanctuary, your time to simply be.

My conscious mind fought me for several long minutes, repeating the ludicrous statements the paparazzi had shouted at the airport and reminding me of Landry’s shocking reveal. I wanted to rage, to host entire arguments in my head with Landry, but I hadn’t spent the past few weeks at Chaska’s retreat without learning the power of meditation.

I needed a clear head before I could tackle this situation, and there was no better way of clearing it than meditation in a warm bath.

Within moments, I was relaxed to the point of sleep. I didn’t even realize I was dozing until Landry’s voice startled me awake.

“Kenji? Fuck! Kenji, wake up. Are you okay? Fuck!”

I woke up to the sensation of being pulled out of lukewarm water and banging my elbow against the old cast-iron tub. Landry lost his grip on one of my arms when I flailed. Water splashed over the floor and wall as I scrambled to keep from slipping.

By the time I was safely on my feet on the bathmat, dripping water everywhere, my heart raced, and any benefits I’d received from the meditation had been washed clean away.

“What the fuck, Landry!” I snapped, knowing full well he’d done the right thing in waking me up.

“I sent someone out to get you some clothes, but you didn’t respond when I told you I was leaving them on the bed. I called through the bathroom door, but you didn’t answer. And then I fucking thought you were dead in the bathtub. Jesus.”

I grabbed a towel and threw it around my waist. Yes, Landry had seen me naked hundreds of times, but that didn’t mean he had carte blanche, and currently, he was all of the names on my shit list.

“I’m fine,” I bit out.

His eyes were wide with concern and the vestiges of fear. “You were asleep in the bath. I read an article about this once. It’s incredibly dangerous.”

“I wasn’t asleep . I was… meditating.”

He paused. “Meditating.”

“Yes. With my eyes closed.” I lifted my chin and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

Landry narrowed his eyes. “Is drooling while meditating an advanced technique you learned at your retreat?” He lifted one eyebrow in challenge and reached out a thumb to wipe the corner of my mouth. “You’ve got a little something right here.”

A shiver ran through me that made goose bumps prickle over my skin at the lingering touch.

From the chill of the room , I told myself.

Landry turned to grab a thick bathrobe from a hook on the wall, whipping it around me and pulling it together in the front. “You’re cold.”

“I’m fine.”

“You almost drowned,” he growled.

“I’m fine.”

His eyes flicked up to mine. “Careful. You sound like Zane.”

I clenched my back teeth until my jaw ached.

“Did you call your grandmother?” he asked in a softer voice.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

His hands were still on the lapels of my bathrobe. From this distance, I could smell the familiar hand lotion he used. I could see the small red spot next to his nose that was usually covered meticulously with concealer. And I could see the darker roots beneath his famous blond locks.

I tried not to remember all the times I’d run my fingers through his long hair. The times I’d gripped and tugged it during sex and the softer times I’d caressed him when he was safely asleep and not able to misinterpret the gesture as anything other than… a moment of weakness.

We stood awkwardly before he cleared his throat and patted the robe’s lapels. “Right. Okay.” He stepped back. “I’ll let you…” He exhaled and turned to go.

I almost called him back. Almost called out… something that would soften the tension between us. But I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t trust myself not to temporarily “forgive” him just to get the benefit of his comfort.

That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.

As I stood there staring at the empty doorway, it suddenly occurred to me I’d meant what I’d said to my grandmother. I missed my job. My job was something I was good at. It grounded me and made me feel competent and capable. So what the hell was I doing wallowing in a bath when there was work I could be doing?

I had to wait until morning before I could take the Brotherhood’s plane home, but I could work from my phone now that it was fully charged. I propped myself up on pillows and opened my inbox.

But the soft bed and my heavy eyelids conspired against me. I only managed to return one email before the phone fell on my face and shoulder. My eyes slid closed as I sighed in frustration.

And then it was morning.

The sun shone more brightly than I expected… until I realized it was well after 9:00 a.m. and I’d slept longer than I’d meant to. I quickly texted the flight crew to let them know I was on my way and that I’d update them as soon as I had an ETA from my rideshare app.

After throwing on the clothes Landry had left for me last night, I slid my phone and passport into a pocket and tidied up the room as well as I could. By some miracle, I found my way back to the main-level foyer, only to discover the front door was locked with a set of antique fittings I couldn’t figure out, and the elevator had a numeric keypad instead of a simple button.

In hopes of searching out a back door or someone who could release me, I followed the sounds of talking deeper into the house until I found a narrow hallway that led to a large, open kitchen where an older gentleman sat at a table reading an honest-to-god newspaper. A slightly younger woman looked up from where she was working on a laptop and smiled at me. “Oh hello, you must be Kenji.”

I nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry to intrude. But?—”

“Nonsense,” she said, standing and waving me forward. “Please make yourself right at home. I’m Nan, and this is Edward. Ed, this is Everett’s friend Kenji.”

No one had to explain that this man was Landry’s father. Not when he had eyes that were a slightly watered-down version of Landry’s aquamarine. It was strange to see Landry’s eyes in another man’s face but even stranger to realize that this man, Landry’s father, had been here all along. Right here in central London, all these years. I’d been in town countless times with Silas and Bash on business or with Zane and Landry for a concert or appearance, yet Landry had never once mentioned his family or brought us here.

I held out my hand to Ed. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” I said, the words nearly choking me. I wanted to apologize, somehow explain the rudeness of taking nearly a decade to finally make Landry’s father’s acquaintance. But of course, it was none of my business.

And I was leaving anyway.

He smiled at me. “Friend of Everett’s, you say? From university?”

“No, sir. I w-work for him. In New York.”

Landry hustled into the room behind me with an Apple Store bag on his arm and four large Starbucks cups on a takeout tray. He handed one of the coffees to me before setting the rest on the table, placing the Apple bag on the floor by my feet, and pulling off his jacket and knit cap. His blond hair came tumbling down into a runway-ready look. “He doesn’t just work for me, Dad. Kenji is my good friend. Remember I told you about the Brotherhood? Kenji is part of that group.”

“Not really,” I said quickly. “I work for them. That’s all.”

“That’s not all, really ,” Landry said hotly.

Nan’s eyes flicked to Landry’s and back to me. Her smile was one of understanding, as if she knew some of the history between Landry and me. “Landry speaks very highly of you, Kenji,” she offered. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

I felt incredibly awkward. Was I supposed to let on that I knew next to nothing about them? That Landry had kept everything a secret for all these years? Or did they already know?

“Are you hungry?” Landry asked eagerly. He gestured toward a man in a chef’s coat washing dishes in a far sink, and the man seemed to pause as if waiting to hear my response to the question.

“No, thank you. I was just leaving.”

The man returned to his dishwashing.

Ed’s smile wavered as he looked between Landry and me. “Nonsense. We’d be shockingly terrible hosts if we let you leave before you eat, and Reggie makes an excellent omelette… or he could even do the full English if you’re hungry.”

The man in the chef’s coat smiled at me. “We’ve got streaky rashers or sausages.”

I nodded at the Starbucks in my hand. “This’ll do me, but thank you. I have a flight to New York to catch.”

“Kenji…” Landry’s eyes held emotions—hurt, confusion, frustration—that I had no intention of acknowledging.

Stay strong, dammit. “I need to get back to work.”

“Then I’m coming with you. Give me a minute to pack my things,” Landry said before disappearing back toward the stairs.

I could feel Nan’s eyes on me. When she spoke, her voice was kind. “At least have toast or a muffin.” She stood and pulled out a chair, nodding at it like a friendly but firm schoolteacher.

I sat and reminded myself the man at the table with me, my host, was an earl. If ever I was going to remember my manners, maybe it should be here and now. “Toast, please. Thank you.”

Ed studied me, a crinkle of confusion between his gray eyebrows. “You a friend of Everett’s? From school?”

I opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say. “N-no, sir. We’re f-friends from New York.”

His eyes widened like it was the first time he’d heard this information. “You’re the friend in trouble? He was very upset, you know. I haven’t seen him that upset since his mother… well, anyway.” He cleared his throat and pulled the newspaper back up.

Nan plucked one of the cups out of the Starbucks tray and handed it to the man in the chef’s coat while he bustled around to make my toast.

“It’s true, you know,” Nan said quietly, returning to her seat. “Landry was devastated when he discovered you were in danger. He raced to Downing Street, met with Teddy. If he hadn’t worked something out with Jim Winthrop, he was prepared to contact the Palace. He was terrified for you.”

I stared at her. When she said Teddy , did she mean…?

A younger woman with wild brown curls came hustling in as Nan finished speaking. Her eyes lit on the remaining Starbucks, and she quickly plucked it from the tray. “Sweet relief,” she murmured before taking a sip and closing her eyes. “Nan, we have a serious problem.”

Nan cleared her throat and straightened up in her chair. “Cora, this is Kenji Toma. Kenji, this is Cora Davencourt, the earl’s niece and Landry’s first cousin.”

Cora’s eyebrows winged up toward her hairline as she noticed there was a stranger in her midst. She glanced from me to Nan and back. “You’re Landry’s guy?”

Nan nodded. Reg moved toward me to place a collection of very elegant tableware in front of me, dropping a linen napkin in my lap before setting a plate of toast and accoutrements next to it.

I glanced back at Cora. “What do you mean, Landry’s guy?”

Cora and Nan exchanged a look before Cora spoke. “Oh. The, uh… guy Landry was… ehrm, worried about. That’s all.” She flashed her teeth at me in a grimace-smile combination that showed she was a terrible liar.

I sighed and focused on eating some toast. From the corner of my eye, I saw the pretty gray-and-white cat Landry had been cuddling the other night lift its tail and skulk out of the room like it didn’t want to be associated with our bullshit.

I couldn’t blame Turkey. If it weren’t for the ridiculous locks on the front door, I’d escape, too.

Cora looked at Nan before tilting her head toward me. “Back to the problem…”

I blinked. Was she saying I was the problem?

Nan took a sip of her tea. “The crisis management team is on their way. We’ll discuss it when they get here.”

Crisis management ? I opened my mouth to politely ask what the fuck was happening when Ed lifted his head from the Financial Times .

“Kenji? Is that Japanese?”

Finally, a question I understood.

I took a sip of my latte. “Yes, sir. My paternal grandfather was born in Misawa in northeastern Japan. My grandmother was American, but she lived in Japan for a while, and that’s where they met.”

“Oh, really?” The corner of Ed’s newspaper dipped in interest.

I nodded. “Her father was stationed at a nearby air base. My grandmother used to run English classes for some of the local kids and—according to her—one particularly persistent and handsome fisherman who was the worst student she ever had.” I smiled. “When she moved back to the States, her persistent fisherman came with her.”

Cora and Nan continued speaking in hushed tones, but Ed seemed to ignore them, so I did, too.

“Your grandfather must have been very brave to move to the United States and learn a completely different culture and language.”

“He was brave, yes… and also a little sneaky.” I smiled wider, remembering. “It turned out he’d known English for quite some time—he’d simply wanted an excuse to spend time with my grandmother. And he got it. Forty happy years, until he passed away shortly after his retirement.”

Ed set the newspaper down completely and leaned back in his chair. “What a wonderful story. You know, Landry’s mother was an expat as well. It’s a unique experience. Obviously very different if you already speak the language.”

I glanced at Nan and Cora, but they were still lost in their own conversation. “How did you and your wife meet?”

Landry strode back into the room, typing something on his phone, but I resolutely ignored him.

Ed’s face softened into a nostalgic smile. “Olivia saved my life. Well, after she nearly killed me.” He let out a little laugh. “I was preparing to cross the road, you see, when I caught sight of her. She was laughing. Her hair was blowing in the wind, and the motion caught my eye.”

I thought back to the day before when I’d noticed Landry’s hair blowing in the wind in Manta. My eyes flicked to Landry against my will. Fortunately, his were still focused on his phone.

“She was here on a school trip,” Ed continued. “I found that out later. But I stepped into the street to cross, not realizing I was still staring at her. She grabbed me and pulled me back before saying, ‘Look right,’ as if I was an American tourist.” He chuckled again. “Can you imagine? The American was telling me to mind the direction of traffic. I was so embarrassed.”

Nan looked away from Cora to glance at him affectionately. “But not too embarrassed to ask where she was staying.”

“No,” Ed said. He shot Nan a charming wink that was a perfect template of the one his son used. “I was embarrassed, not stupid.”

Nan glanced at me. “They became pen pals for five years, if you can believe it. Letters. That was before the internet, of course.”

“Did you know her, too?”

She chuckled. “Oh god, yes. Liv and I were thick as thieves for years. She was a good woman. Funny and smart. Kind and generous. And a hard worker, like this one,” she said with an affectionate smile now pointed at Landry. “He’s just like her. Looks like her, too. I’ll have to show you a picture of Liv. There’s the painting in the drawing room, of course, but there’s a photo album that has some good candid shots of her as well.”

Cora chimed in. “I wanted to be Aunt Liv when I grew up. I always thought she was a celebrity. Like a movie star. It’s no wonder Landry inherited that face.”

Ed turned to Landry. “Your mother was a beautiful woman, Everett.”

Landry glanced up and nodded. “Yes. I remember.”

“Did I ever tell you how we met? Funny story, that. She was here on a school trip…” He went on to tell the exact same story again.

My stomach dropped with sympathy, and in spite of myself, I looked to Landry to gauge his reaction. I expected to see him upset—worried, sad, embarrassed, annoyed, or some combination—but instead, he smiled at his father affectionately.

“Bet you never forgot to look right after that, did you?” he teased in a gentle voice. I could only imagine how many times he’d repeated those words.

“No, I did not.” He chuckled and went back to reading his newspaper.

Nan caught my eye and gave me a small smile of acknowledgment before standing and taking her own mug to the sink. When she came back, she checked her phone, patted Landry’s shoulder, and lowered her voice, presumably so Ed couldn’t hear. “Now that we’ve all pretended nothing’s wrong for a few minutes, maybe we can address the looming public relations situation before you faff off to New York? A crisis management team is waiting in my office.”