Ivan was the first to raise his glass, and after his toast, Hubbard turned to Whitney with a broad smile. “Ms. Moore, I propose a toast to you. You’re such a beautiful lawyer,” he said, his tone teasing yet sincere.
Whitney was no stranger to such compliments; being teased about her looks was an expected part of the business dinner ritual. Without hesitation, she raised her glass in response. “Thank you, Mr. Hampton,” she said, her confidence shining through.
She took a generous gulp, and her composed demeanor seemed to ease Hubbard’s tension. “Mr. Walton, Ms. Moore is a real asset to your team,” he praised.
Ivan couldn’t help but smirk, “Ms. Moore is a real pro, Mr. Hampton. Don’t let her age fool you. She’s hands down the best young lawyer on our team.”
Whitney felt a pang of anxiety as she realized she had forgotten her usual hangover pills, and her stomach was already beginning to grumble in protest. Yet, she managed to keep her smile intact. “Honestly, it’s only because Mr. Walton believed in me and gave me a shot.”
A middle-aged man from the investment team stood up, his enthusiasm palpable. “With such a young and promising lawyer here, I’ve got to share a drink with Ms. Moore!”
Whitney felt a mix of pride and helplessness as she stood up again, lifting her glass to join in the toast.
Just then, Calvin’s phone lit up with an incoming call, and his expression shifted to one of tension. He raised his hand, signaling for silence.
Whitney’s hand froze around her glass, her heart racing. ‘Who could be calling to make him look so serious?’ she wondered, anxiety creeping in.
Calvin set his glass down and leaned in to check the caller ID, his face shifting to one of surprise. “Hello, sir? Yeah, we’re having dinner with PrimeBridge Law Firm. Yep, at the Royal Crest Club. Are you coming over?” he asked, his tone suddenly urgent.
Calvin jumped up. “You’re already at the entrance? I’ll come and get you right away,” he said, his voice laced with excitement.
After hanging up, Calvin shot Ivan a look that was heavy with implication. He thought, ‘Man, PrimeBridge Law Firm just hit the jackpot. Our boss happened to show up tonight.’
“Mr. Walton, I’m going to go greet someone,” Calvin announced, his voice brimming with anticipation.
Ivan felt a surge of excitement-judging by Calvin’s tone, this had to be someone significant.
“Let me come with you, Mr. Malone,” Ivan said quickly, eager to be part of whatever was unfolding.
Whitney sat back down, feeling a wave of unease wash over her. ‘Who could it be? No way it’s Uncle Klein or George, huh?’ she mused, quickly dismissing the thought.
George had just mentioned wanting to have dinner with her today, so he definitely wouldn’t be here for business. And Klein? That was even less likely; he had always considered these business dinners beneath him.
“Frank, I’m going to the restroom,” Whitney said, trying to shake off her nerves.
Frank leaned in, concern etched on his face. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Whitney replied, shaking her head. “Just drank a bit too fast. My stomach is acting up.”
Excusing herself, Whitney slipped out of the room. She hadn’t been gone long when Klein walked in, flanked by Calvin and Ivan.
Klein’s piercing gaze scanned the crowd, his eyebrows arching with interest. ‘Where is she?’ he thought, his mind focused.
The men from the Harris Group all stood up simultaneously, exclaiming, “Mr. Harris, good to see you here.”
Frank was taken aback, having seen this man’s face gracing the covers of magazines. His voice trembled as he managed to greet, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Harris.”
‘Whoa, Klein is actually here. Man, this dinner just got legendary,’ Frank thought, his mind racing.
Calvin tried to offer Klein the main seat, but Klein shrugged it off with a casual wave. “I’ll sit here. Is this seat taken?” he asked, pointing to the very spot where Whitney had been seated moments ago.
Calvin hesitated for a moment, then replied, “Uh, sure. Ms. Moore went to the restroom, right? She can just take the seat next to Mr. Reese when she gets back.”
With that arrangement, Whitney and Klein would be separated by Frank, a move that seemed to satisfy Calvin’s intentions.
Klein’s eyes narrowed slightly, betraying nothing. “No need to make it so complicated,” he said, gesturing at Frank. “Move over one seat. Let the one you mentioned take this spot.”
Calvin was taken aback, surprised by the abrupt change in seating. He had intentionally arranged things, knowing his boss preferred to keep a distance from women.
‘What’s up with this?’ Calvin wondered, feeling completely thrown off.
He thought Klein probably didn’t hear it clearly that it was a woman who would be sitting next to him.
‘Just hope Whitney can read the room and doesn’t end up doing something to tick off the boss,’ Calvin thought, anxiety creeping in.
Meanwhile, Whitney rummaged through her purse, pulling out a hangover pill and swallowing it dry. She then asked the waiter for a cup of hot water, downing it in one gulp. Finally, her stomach settled a bit, but as soon as she pushed open the door, her mind went blank.
‘Why is the one person I thought I’d never see here just sitting there in my seat like it’s the most normal thing in the world?’ Whitney thought, feeling utterly flustered.
Ivan noticed Whitney frozen in the doorway and called out, “Whitney, don’t just stand there. Come in and grab a seat.”
‘Where am I supposed to sit?’ Whitney wondered, feeling a bit lost.
Her eyes darted to the only empty chair, and for a moment, she felt like time had stopped.
‘OMG! The only seat left is right next to Uncle Klein,’ Whitney thought, her heart racing in her chest.
Klein offered a subtle smile. “Hey, why don’t you come over and have a seat?”
With her heart pounding and her mind racing, Whitney took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead.
Whitney observed Klein, his eyebrow arched ever so slightly, a smirk dancing on his lips. There was an air of nonchalance about him that left her feeling utterly speechless, as if the world around her had come to a standstill. She felt trapped in a moment that stretched endlessly, her mind a blank canvas painted with confusion and surprise.
Frank, sitting nearby, remained blissfully unaware of the tension that crackled between them. He simply assumed that Whitney was frozen in place, much like himself, overwhelmed by the presence of a formidable figure who had just entered their midst.
With a gentle tug, he grasped Whitney’s wrist and urged, “Hey, don’t just stand there! Come on, take a seat.”
As he settled back into his chair, he found himself ensnared by Klein’s penetrating gaze, which sent a jolt through his heart. It was a look that seemed to pierce right through him, and he quickly averted his eyes, conceding defeat in that silent battle of wills.
Meanwhile, Whitney finally broke free from her stupor. She noticed the curious stares directed her way and, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, bit her lip before offering an awkward smile. “Uh, sorry. I was just really surprised to see Mr. Harris.”
Klein’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, amusement flickering in his eyes. The way she addressed him struck him as oddly formal, almost comical in this informal setting.
Calvin, ever the observant one, began to piece together the dynamics at play. He chuckled lightly, his curiosity piqued. “Ms. Moore, do you happen to know Mr. Harris?”
Whitney bristled at the question, shaking her head vigorously as if trying to shake off an unwelcome thought. “No, how could I possibly know Mr. Harris?”
The tension in the private room thickened, and Klein’s expression darkened slightly as he leaned back with an air of casual indifference. “Right, we don’t know each other at all. How could Ms. Moore possibly know me?”
Calvin’s confidence wavered. ‘Maybe I misread the situation?’ he pondered, observing the way Klein and Whitney interacted. They seemed like complete strangers, yet there was an undeniable undercurrent of something more.
Ivan shot Whitney a disapproving glance, clearly baffled by her sudden loss of composure. He cleared his throat awkwardly and raised his glass, attempting to lighten the mood. “Mr. Harris, Whitney is probably just feeling a bit nervous. Please don’t take it personally. How about we propose a toast to you?”
With that, he downed his drink in one swift motion, trying to regain the flow of the evening.
Klein lowered his gaze to the array of wine glasses on the table, his demeanor unchanging. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Walton, but I’m not drinking these days. Let’s stick to juice instead.”
The suggestion caught everyone off guard. ‘Juice? At a business dinner? Is he serious? We’re not children!’ they all thought, exchanging bewildered glances.
Calvin quickly chimed in, eager to align with Klein. “Mr. Harris, you’re absolutely right. Honestly, alcohol isn’t the healthiest choice anyway, and too much can upset your stomach.”
He called out to the waiter, “Could we please have some juice over here?”
Whitney glanced at Klein from the corner of her eye, musing, ‘So Uncle Klein has a preference for juice, huh?’
Before long, each person at the table found a glass of juice before them, the wine replaced by this unexpected beverage.
Klein took a casual sip, a faint smile gracing his lips. “Not bad. This juice is quite sweet.”
Whitney couldn’t shake the feeling that he had glanced at her just then, and she wished she could shrink into her seat, burying her face in her cup to hide her embarrassment.
The conversation flowed around her, but Whitney felt a growing silence envelop her. She picked at her food, her mind racing while Ivan animatedly engaged with the others.
Klein, too, remained mostly quiet, only interjecting occasionally. Calvin sensed a shift in the atmosphere, thinking to himself, ‘Our boss seems to be in a surprisingly good mood. It looks like he’s leaning towards choosing PrimeBridge.’
As the evening progressed, Calvin found himself engaging more with Ivan, the camaraderie between them building. By the time dinner came to a close, Ivan felt a sense of optimism about the deal.
“Would you like me to call your driver, Mr. Harris?” he offered, hoping to extend the evening.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.