Freya’s pov
Trevor’s private dining room was lavish, to say the least. A long mahogany table, lined with regal brass and mahogany chairs, sat upon a sprawling tapestry rug in the centre of the wood-panelled room. Gilded portraits of Stone ancestors lined the walls, their painted eyes watching us beneath the shimmering light of crystal chandeliers.
Trevor was already waiting. He sat at the far end of the table, nursing a glass of Scotch. He stood as I entered, a small, unreadable smile playing on his lips. He had dressed for dinner in a sharp navy suit, a striped silk tie, and a matching pocket square. He looked ruggedly handsome – so much so that my stomach dipped as our eyes met. I quickly dropped my gaze to the floor, my heart hammering. This is just a business agreement, I reminded my
