The middle-aged man standing in the doorway looked at Zeyan longer than necessary. He was Gavin Holt, operations manager of Crown Ember Reserve, personally responsible for the restaurant’s special guest list. Less than a week ago, the owner himself had sent down a photograph with explicit instructions: if the person in the picture appeared, every request was to be accommodated, his identity was never to be questioned, and absolutely no unnecessary attention was to be drawn to him.
Gavin had assumed that someone singled out in that way would arrive with an entourage or an escort vehicle. He had never expected to find him sitting in a second-floor room after being slapped by a woman in front of an employee.
He had barely taken another step when Zeyan’s gaze met his.
It was only a brief lo
