I leaned against the polished wooden desk, absently scrolling through research papers on my tablet while waiting for my "important guests" to arrive. The private dining room at La Maison Rouge was plush and quiet - exactly what I needed to maintain my composure for the confrontation ahead.
The door opened, and Caleb Sterling strode in first, his expensive suit perfectly tailored to his athletic build. He stopped short when he saw me, confusion flashing across his face before settling into that familiar condescending smile.
"Excuse me," he said dismissively, "this is a private room. The service staff entrance is back that way."
I didn't bother looking up from my tablet. "I'm aware."
His jaw tightened. "Look, we're expecting someone important. Dr. Wilson will be here any minute."
