Catherine didn't look back.
Maximilian followed anyway.
"Your car?" he asked as they stepped out of Amelia's apartment building. "Should I book a cab?"
Her Rolls-Royce was still at the Remington estate. He had assumed she would call ahead, have it brought around, do something elaborate.
She turned to him with a look that made him feel painfully ordinary. "I'm not sitting in morning traffic," she said flatly.
Before he could process that answer, she was already walking with purpose.
He followed her down the block… and then stopped short.
A helipad.
Of course.
Why take the road when you could simply rise above it?
He had always known Catherine was wealthy. He had seen the estates, the luxury, the effortless luxury that followed her like perfume. He had looked up their net worth.
But knowing and understanding were two different things.
They were escorted through a private entrance, past a quiet VIP lounge. A staff member approached with a respectful nod.
