–You can come in now. Miss Niarchos is waiting for you.
Aidan Murphy stood up, buttoned his jacket, and smoothed his tie with his hand. It felt strange to be wearing a suit after so long without one. Years ago, suits had been like a second skin to him, but one day his whole world had collapsed, changing his life completely. And when you worked in an Irish pub, you didn't need expensive suits and silk ties.
But the reason he'd gone there had nothing to do with the pub, or with his life five years earlier. He'd gone there for his late mother, for the promise she'd made him on her deathbed that he'd open a rehabilitation center for alcoholics in her memory.
He had lost his parents just a few years apart, and suddenly found himself with an inheritance he hadn't expected: a pub in Manhattan that was struggling to keep afloat, and a huge house in the East Bronx.
Having a degree in marketing and having worked as an advertising executive, he had enough knowledge to revive the pub, but he had no interest in such a large house in such a remote location. However, he didn't feel ready to part with the home he'd grown up in.
His Irish Catholic parents had bought the house because they had wanted to start a big family when they got married, but they only had him. The house was paid for, but even if he wanted to, selling it wouldn't be easy. The neighborhood was increasingly run-down, and it would even be difficult to rent it out.

His mother had known this and urged him to keep it and use the house as a halfway house for alcoholics who had just left a rehabilitation program at a specialized facility. Having dealt with his father's alcoholism, his mother said that going through a halfway house was what he would have needed to fully recover, instead of returning to his addiction every few weeks.
And that's where the Niarchos Foundation came in, as much as he hated the idea of asking anyone for help, especially rich people. He needed money to make his mother's dream come true, a lot of money, and that's why he'd asked them for a grant.
He opened the office door and held his breath. It was now or never. However, as soon as he crossed the threshold, he stopped dead in his tracks when his gaze fell upon the exotic black eyes of the woman sitting behind the desk, the eyes of the woman who had vanished from his life over a year ago. Violet!
And apparently her last name was Niarchos, although they hadn't actually exchanged it in the short time they'd been together. If I'd known her full name, I might have tried to find her after she'd vanished without a trace.
He was about to say "hello," but Violet's indifferent expression disconcerted him. She didn't seem to recognize him. It was as if he were just another person coming to the foundation for help, rather than a man she'd made love to.
It was evident that she had made a much greater impression on him than he had on her.
"Violet?" he asked, to make sure he wasn't mistaken.