With his reluctant blessing, I set aside my own reservations and called Christian Harper.
CHAPTER 42
Sebastian
I MADE THE RESERVATION FOR FRIDAY NIGHT, SEVENp.m., center table at the most exclusive steakhouse in Gramercy.
Two full weeks had passed since the launch event exploded in our faces. The media circus had died down a bit since then, but the restaurant still erupted into murmurs when my father and I walked in.
As expected, we were the first to arrive. We sat across from each other, our suits crisp, our expressions carefully neutral.
Neither of us spoke, but the air crackled with tangible anticipation.
The weight of the other diners’ scrutiny closed in on us as we waited for our guest to arrive. Their whispers crowded the air, forming a steady background hum that made my heart beat a little faster under my perfectly pressed shirt.
Even so, I took a calm sip of water and kept my posture relaxed. If we showed weakness, the predators would pounce.
Tonight was about taking back power. There was a reason I’d chosen this specific restaurant on this specific night at this specific time. The other diners didn’t know it yet, but they had pivotal roles in this play.
Our guest arrived eight minutes after seven. He didn’t apologize for his tardiness.
Making us wait was an obvious power play, but neither my father nor I mentioned it as we greeted him.
“I must admit, I was quite surprised when I received your dinner invitation.” Charles Whitaker smoothed the front of histie as he took the seat across from me. “I didn’t think you’d want to be seen in public so soon after your recent… troubles. Atthisplace, no less.”
He didn’t seem concerned about being seen with us himself, probably because it was damn nice to be the CEO of Whitaker Farms right now. Thanks to our recent scandal, Singh Foods’s stocks had plummeted, and Whitaker Farms’s had skyrocketed to the point that Charles was socially invincible.
Too bad for him, that wasn’t going to last.
“It’s been a challenging two weeks,” my father acknowledged, his expression affable. Only a handful of people in existence knew him well enough to detect the steel beneath his smile. “That’s one of the reasons we invited you here. We have a proposal for you.”
“Oh?” Charles looked intrigued. “What might that be?”
“There’s time for business later,” I interjected, just like our script called for. We had to hook Charles with the proposal so he didn’t leave early, but we couldn’t tip our hand yet. “Let’s order first. The wine here is exquisite, and I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”
Luckily, Charles was too arrogant to question my flimsy excuse. He went along with my suggestion and ordered the most expensive items on the menu.
The most expensive items weren’t always the best, but people like Charles Whitaker cared more about appearances than quality. I bet he’d pay a fortune for an overpriced, trendy burger that tasted exactly like a five-dollar-one from a food cart.
We made idle conversation over appetizers. He tried to dig for intel on the Singhs and how they were handling their stock drop (as if we’d know), but we sidestepped his poorly concealed probes with polite deflections.
I wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smile off his face, but I had to wait until I got the official go-ahead.
Restlessness thrummed beneath my skin. I checked my phone discreetly every five minutes, and it paid off when I received the text I’d been waiting for during our main course.
Finally.
I slid a glance at my father, who picked up on my silent signal and nodded.
“Now that we have some food in our stomachs, I think it’s time to discuss business.” I picked up the leather folder waiting on the seat next to mine and slid it across the table.
Charles took it. He flipped it open lazily, body language oozing haughty curiosity, but his smirk soon vanished. He straightened, flipping faster and faster until he reached the last page. When he looked up again, his face was mottled with anger. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Satisfaction slithered through my veins at his shaking voice.Not so arrogant now, are you?
“Good question.” I nodded at the entrance. “I’ll let our partners explain.”
Maya and her father entered the dining room to wide eyes and open mouths. There was a brief lull in conversation as everyone watched, transfixed, while they took their seats at our table. Once they were settled, a fresh wave of whispers swept through the restaurant.
