Demetrio's POV
Aidan McKell had a terrace that looked out over Lake Michigan and the view was genuinely impressive, which I suspected was the point. Men who built terraces like this built them for the specific purpose of making their guests feel that they were sitting with someone who had arrived somewhere significant, the architectural version of a power move.
I was not impressed by architecture. I was, however, willing to sit on his terrace and drink his scotch while I assessed how much of what he wanted to propose aligned with what I needed to accomplish and how quickly I could get out of this meeting without making an enemy of a family I was still deciding whether to need.
My father was to my left, looking like a man at a business lunch, which he was, the retired don version of him that still attended these things because he had spent forty years making the relationships that made these things possible and had not yet found a reason to stop attending them.
