Gianna twirled a piece of her truffle-infused wild mushroom pasta around her fork, her expression perfectly relaxed. Across the linen tablecloth, a plate of pan-seared sea bass sat untouched in front of Mason.
The restaurant he had chosen sat perched on the forty-second floor of a high-rise building, a quiet, sunlit sanctuary of polished marble and brushed gold.
True to his boast from the day before, the menu was ridiculously overpriced, the kind of establishment where a single bottle of vintage wine cost more than a decent piece of living room furniture.
They sat in a secluded corner booth, completely undisturbed, with a massive floor-to-ceiling glass wall on their left that looked out over the chaotic anthill of the city streets below.
"What do you think about the arrest of those politicians since last night?" Gianna asked casually, taking a small bite.
