Lance
LaFrench Cuisine Restaurant. Soft lighting. Muted jazz playing in the background.
The perfect setting for an impressively romantic date.
If only I cared.
I sat across from Jeraldine Dudley—wearing a cream silk dress, hair clearly styled with intention, and a smile that suggested she was well-practiced in nights like this. She carried the aura of a woman who knew she was beautiful and expected that to be enough.
"So," she began, cutting into her steak, "your dad told me you're the CEO of MobTech. Must be nice... having everything handed to you."
There it is.
I didn't answer right away. I took a sip of my wine instead, watching the way she waited for my reaction, clearly expecting either offense or bragging.
"Interesting assumption," I replied calmly. "What ma
