CHARLOTTE
We arrived at the gates a few minutes later. The guards took one look at the license plate, and the gate swung open in seconds. As the car slowed to a halt in front of the entrance, Thiago offered to help me carry the bags up to the penthouse.
“I can handle it,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s just food, and we aren’t trudging up a hill this time. I’m taking the elevator. And you need to get home and catch some sleep. You look exhausted.”
“I feel exhausted, but in a good way. Thank you for agreeing to do this,” he said, smiling wistfully. “I might be gone for a few days, weeks even, depending on the situation,” he added, turning off the ignition.
“The situation?” I asked, confused.
“Before I came over this morning, I received a call from the office. They are investigating the
