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“No, let’s eat. I’ll tell you after lunch.”
He pulled a chair a couple of inches from the table for me to sit down and he sat down opposite me, only a small expansion of the table separating us.
What a gentleman. So fucking charming.
Sometimes I hated my voice of reason because it had impeccable timing when it came to these kinds of thoughts. That voice had saved me more time than I could count. It usually warned me about bad decisions, I just didn’t always listen. Like the last time I was here. And now look what that disobedience got me into.
The aroma of the delicacies set before me drew my attention to the sight of the three delectable dishes arranged with artistic precision. The first dish, a luxurious Lobster Thermidor, boasted succulent chunks of lobster meat bathed in a creamy sauce. Garnished with fresh herbs, it exuded opulence and indulgence.
I buried the tines of my fork into a chunk of lobster and had a taste. I'd be damned if that weren’t the best lobster I'd tasted in a long time.
“Hmm,” an involuntary groan escaped me.
He raised his eyebrows, “Do you like it?”
I nodded. “Did you cook this?”
“Mhm,” he replied, basking in the idea that I was enjoying his food.
“All three dishes?” My eyes widened.
“Yes. With the help of my chef.”
I observed the second dish, it was a perfectly seared Wagyu beef steak. Cooked to perfection and drizzled with a rich red wine reduction, which melted in my mouth as I took a bite.
“This is so good, perfect,” I said and moved to the last dish.
It was a Truffle Risotto, another culinary masterpiece with the earthy richness of black truffles. It tasted divine.
“I'm glad you like the food,” he said, and gave me a long stare. “You look very beautiful.” His voice was soft and gentle.
I lifted my eyes and smiled, “Thank you.”
“So, I have some updates for you,” he said, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin.
I furrowed my brows.
“I found the man responsible for the attack on your father's life …”
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth and slowly, I set it down. “You found him?” I asked, glad that I would finally have my revenge.
“Yes …”
There was a glimmer of skepticism in his voice that I didn't like, and I sensed a 'but’ coming.
“But…”
There, he said it. What now?
“...we have no concrete evidence that it was him,” he completed his statement.
I sighed, a bit disappointed, “Who is he? I need a name.”
“Trevor…” he said, “Trevor White.”
“Trevor?” My eyes widened in surprise, “As in, my father's business partner—that Trevor White?”
He nodded.
