HER BILLIONAIRE’S SECRET SON.
It was like watching a high-level diplomat try to negotiate with a chaotic, sticky-fingered deity.
"Liam, the broccoli is not a tree for the dinosaur to hide in," Larry said, his voice a mix of frustration and genuine bewilderment.
"It’s a forest!" Liam insisted, plunging a plastic Brachiosaurus into a pile of steamed greens.
I hid my smile behind my wine glass. Larry looked at me, pleading for backup. He was wearing a cashmere sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, looking more like a suburban dad than a corporate shark, until you looked at his eyes. The alertness was still there, the habit of someone who never truly relaxed.
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