As soon as they stepped into the restaurant, they instantly drew attention. Why here? she thought and eyed him suspiciously as they were led to a secluded corner booth covered in soft velvet which somehow gave them a cocoon of privacy.
But Richard looked completely at ease, sliding into his seat across from her, his cufflinks glinting under the warm lights.
He reached over, as though it was second nature, and placed his hand lightly over hers before the waiter returned with the menus. "Relax, sweetheart. I told you—I'm starving."
She rolled her eyes but didn't pull away.
They had barely started on their main courses when movement caught her attention.
George Summers?
He entered the restaurant like a shadow of himself—no booming laugh, no smug swagger, no entourage at his heels. His suit looked wrinkled, his shoulders stooped, and his eyes were fixed on the floor as if even the tiles might mock him.
