Ellis Mitchell's smile was a portrait of humility as I opened the door to my hotel room. Gone was the arrogant sneer I'd come to associate with him. In its place was an expression of contrition so perfect it would have fooled anyone who hadn't spent years reading people's intentions.
Anyone but me.
"Liam," he said, his voice soft and respectful. "I know this is unexpected. May I come in? I'd like to apologize properly."
I studied him carefully. Ellis was Caesar Nolan's right-hand man—or had been until recently, according to my sources. His sudden appearance at my door, especially after yesterday's incident at Midnight KTV, couldn't be coincidental.
"An apology?" I repeated, letting skepticism color my tone. "That's certainly a surprise."
Ellis held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I know, I know. I've been an ass. But recent events have made me reevaluate some things."
