Celeste walked into the sleek, glass-walled restaurant where Julian Mercer sat, a smirk already forming on his he waited for her, he was expecting her. She was brave to request a meeting with him by herself.
The host led her to his private booth near the window, where the city skyline glittered in the distance. Mercer was dressed impeccably in a charcoal grey suit, his blond hair neatly styled. He radiated arrogance, lounging like a king who thought himself untouchable.
“Celeste,” he drawled, standing as she approached. “I have to say that I’m quite surprised you wanted to meet with me. Given the circumstances, I assumed you’d be licking your wounds.”
She didn’t smile, neither did she bother with pleasantries. She slid into the seat across from him, resting her purse on the table.
“I k
