His crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes.He lifts a hand to gesture me to sit.“Please, Ms.Baxter.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say, voice steady though my stomach twists.I repeat it in my mind, a mantra: don’t embarrass yourself.Don’t make a mistake.
He doesn’t blink.His gaze sharpens, silently scanning me, calculating, judging.The weight of those eyes drilling into me, imagining all the doubts, all the criticisms he might have about Laird and me.My hands clench lightly in my lap.
“How are you, Miss Baxter?”
“I’m fine, thank you.And you, sir?”I smile broadly, though my pulse races under my cardigan.
“Nothing much.My life is… dull,” he says, eyes flicking to a server who pours my wine.I didn’t ask for it.Is this his way of controlling even the tiniest detail?
“Unlike your life,” he says, his voice lowering, “I was surprised to see your name next to Malcolm Golden’s in the newspaper.Must be hard, being considered a famous heroine.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, sir.I just helped him a little, and the media noticed,” I say, laughing nervously, hand pressed against my mouth.My nerves spike, fingers trembling slightly.
“Laird also helped and had to be treated at Andover Hospital for a gunshot wound to his stomach.”His head tilts slightly, cold curiosity in his eyes.
God, he must be blaming me for it—and maybe he should.Laird was hurt because of me.
“Yes.He played a major role.You’d probably call him a national hero now.He used his sharp, brilliant mind to coordinate everything,” I beam, forcing confidence into my tone, though my stomach twists at the thought of angering him.
“Hm, you think so?”His fingers stroke his clean-shaven jaw.“Well, for me, it’s exactly the opposite.I’m disappointed in him.”He shakes his head, voice hoarse and sharp.
I blink.My brow furrows.His disappointment is personal, unfair and, heavy.I remain quiet at first, tasting the tension in the air, but then I push forward.
“Excuse me?Why?”
“Because he helped my enemy,” he says, voice hard as steel.
I blink again.Enemy?Laird mentioned Golden’s affair with his mother years ago.But that was, what, ten years ago?Mr.Evans has been busy with his younger girlfriend too.Isn’t that enough to show that everyone has moved on?
“But he helped catch criminals.He contributed to society,” I venture, swallowing hard and keeping my voice steady.
“And in that process, he helped my archenemy without considering my feelings,” he scoffs.“He dares to reopen old wounds.Sometimes he can’t even defend his own family when it truly matters.”
A server interrupts, setting a plate of smoked tuna canapés with cherry tomatoes between us.Mr.Evans gestures with a hand, sharp and precise.“Please, Ms.Baxter.”
“Thank you.”My lips press together as I take the fork, bracing myself for what comes next.
We eat in silence.The atmosphere getting darker, colder than when we first sat down.Or maybe it’s just my nerves doing laps in my chest.After we finish the canapés, the waiter clears the plates and brings the main course.Wagyu steak with truffle sauce, mashed potatoes, and mixed veggies.
I bite my lower lip as I look at the dish.I shouldn’t be rude, but I don’t think I can finish it.And if I leave anything behind, I don’t know how Mr.Evans will judge me.Then again, he’s been judging me since the moment I walked in.The Shark scans for weakness the way normal people breathe.
“What do you do for work, Ms.Baxter?”he asks while cutting his steak with that slow, surgical precision that makes the whole table feel like cross-examination.
“I’m a model.And I just opened a modeling agency with my friend.Like, literally just opened it twenty minutes ago.”I chuckle awkwardly, smiling a little too tight.
“Hm.I don’t understand why you didn’t start a real business like your father.”His lips purse like the words taste bad.
The hit lands harder than it should.Arealbusiness?And why did he drag my dad into this all of a sudden?I force myself to stay polite.I shouldn’t snap.That’s exactly the reaction he’s fishing for.
“Well, I’m passionate about fashion and entertainment.I’ve been a model for over seven years, so it’s not easy to walk away from it.”I give him a thin, controlled smile.
“Yes.I understand.Sometimes we try to prove our worth after the chaos we’ve created.”
“Excuse me?”My fork pauses midair.
“It’s exactly what I said.”He carves into his steak, voice cold.“I know you were lost after shutting down your mother agency that built your name.That must’ve been rough, but I don’t entirely blame you.People can be… desperate.”
