“Coralyn Anderson.”
That brought Jocelyn’s head up quickly. She had perfect,
sculpted looks. Full lips. Her makeup was flawless. She eyed
Coralyn’s vintage coat, her legging clad legs and her sturdy
winter boots and her lips curled up. “Right.”
Oh yes, she remembered who she was now. Her eyes
flashed with amusement. To her, Coralyn was nothing but a
beggar come looking for a handout. It was humiliating, and
her face sizzled with the heat of her shame. She hated, worst
of all, that this prissy receptionist could make her feel that
way.
She nodded and took a seat in one of the huge black chairs
that surrounded an impressive marble coffee table. She clasped
her hands between her knees and prayed she wouldn’t throw
up right there on the floor. I can do this. For Dad, I can
freaking do this.
“Please come this way.”
Her butt had barely touched the seat when Jocelyn was
there, taking perverse pleasure in the fact that Coralyn had to
stand back up again and trail after her. Jocelyn knocked on a
frosted glass door and led Coralyn inside. The office was more
than palatial. Twenty of her apartments would fit inside. It
looked like a penthouse condo in there. It even had a set of
doors leading to a huge balcony. The view was more than
incredible and the floor-to-ceiling windows showcased
downtown Chicago and beyond perfectly. What on earth
would something like this cost?
Jocelyn left without saying anything and Coralyn was on
her own. She swallowed back her nerves and blinked at the
tall, slim figure standing there looking out over the city like
