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The shredder starts again from the final office on the left.

I move closer but stop before reaching the open office door. The shredder continues running inside, its motor straining as another stack of paper passes through the blades.

A door closes farther down the corridor.

I retreat into a dark alcove beside a supply closet as footsteps approach from the office. I press against the wall and hold my breath. The person passes several feet away with their back to me, dressed in dark clothes, but the hallway is too dim for me to make out anything else. Their footsteps continue toward the lobby, and the front door opens and closes.

I remain in the alcove, counting to ten while my heart beats hard enough to make every number feel louder than the last. No one returns, and the shredder has gone silent. This is the point where a reasonable person would go back to the pavilion, find Birdie, and admit that sneaking into a billionaire’s administration building was a terrible idea.

I have never been particularly skilled at leaving unanswered questions alone. I slip out of the alcove and walk to the office. The door remains open by several inches, and no light shows beneath any of the other doors along the hallway. I listen once more before easing inside.

A nameplate on the desk identifies the room as Accounts Payable. Two computer monitors are dark, filing cabinets cover one wall, and an industrial shredder sits beside a recycling bin. Thin strips of paper fill the container behind its clear window, packed too densely for me to read.

The wastebasket holds an empty coffee cup, a torn envelope, and several narrow fragments that missed the shredder. I crouch beside it and lift one strip by the corner. Only three printed letters remain beside part of a number, but the fragment beneath it has a dark red curve resembling the border on Connor’s invitation.

“Put that back.”

The male voice behind me makes me sit up so fast my shoulder hits the desk.

Drew stands in the doorway, no longer wearing the easy expression he had beside Mila. His body fills the opening, and the blue-gray eyes that looked kind in the pavilion are fixed on the paper between my fingers.

“I was trying to find the bathroom,” I blurt out, because panic has never improved my creativity.

Drew looks toward the wastebasket, then down the corridor. “The guest bathrooms are in the pavilion.”

“Yes, but there was a line.” I return the fragment to the bin and attempt an embarrassed smile. “Tessa mentioned another one over here.”

“Tessa wouldn’t direct a guest into a closed administration building.” He steps into the room and touches the earpiece behind his right ear. “I have the missing guest in Accounts Payable.”

Missing guest seems dramatic when I’ve been gone less than five minutes. It also confirms that someone noticed my departure, which means Birdie’s kitchen interrogation didn’t hold their attention as well as I hoped.

“I may have misunderstood her,” I say, brushing dust from my skirt. “The music was loud, and she gestured in this direction. I followed the hallway because I thought I saw a sign.”

“There are no restroom signs in this building.” Drew’s expression offers no help. “Why were you searching the wastebasket?”

“I dropped an earring.” I touch my left ear, where the tiny borrowed gold hoop remains securely in place. “Not this earring, obviously. Another one.”

His gaze moves to my right ear and the matching hoop. “You’re wearing both.”

“I found it.”

“In the wastebasket?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest.

“Near the wastebasket,” I correct, then hear how little that improves matters. “I bent down to pick it up, saw the paper, and thought it might be mine.”

“Why would your paper be in an Accounts Payable office?”

“That’s an excellent question.” I take a breath and search for any explanation that doesn’t include my missing brother. “I developed a headache during the presentation, so I asked a server for aspirin. He said there might be some at reception, which I confused with the bathroom directions. Then I lost my earring while looking for the aspirin.”

Drew watches me with the patience of a man waiting for a child to admit who broke the lamp.

“You walked past reception to reach this office.”

“No one was at the desk.” I shrug.

“You could have returned to the event.”

“That occurred to me later.” I glance toward the shredder and wonder if he heard it operating through his earpiece. “Do you usually question guests this thoroughly when they need pain reliever?”