The invitation had arrived through Director Sterling's office directly—his assistant, a formal card, the kind of event that didn't require a follow-up because the invitation itself communicated everything about what was expected and what wasn't. No media. No cameras. Sterling was a private man and his birthday was a private occasion, extended only to a specific and deliberate guest list.
Usually, for something like this, Liam would have texted her within the hour of receiving his own invitation. They would have discussed the guest list, the appropriate arrival time, what the evening was likely to require of them professionally. He would have offered, in the particular way he offered things—not quite asking, not quite assuming—to be her date for the night.
His number had been silent for days.
