Seems like a waste of valuable square footage in Chicago to have a room that people pass through. Then again, I’m on a different level here, standing in a penthouse of one of the most sought-after condo buildings. We walk into the room, Bea breaking away from me to greet her dad. From what she’s told me, I assumed their relationship was estranged, but she’s practically running over to him. His thin arms wrap around her, and she kisses his cheek, but the entire time, his eyes are on me. In all the confusion of whether Bea and I are more, I forgot that I’m meeting her father tonight. I swallow down a sizable gulp as the pressure builds inside me. Bea turns around after greeting her dad and smiles over to me. “Dad, this is Dylan. Dylan, this is my dad, Hugh Vitron.” Panic erupts up my throat, drying my mouth. For fuck’s sake, the name Vitron finally dings in my head. Her family owns the restaurant empire.
