The driver pulls up in front of the restaurant five minutes before noon.
Of course, it’s not just any restaurant. Maximus Sterling doesn’t do casual. Not for anyone. It’s one of those discreet places where no one talks unless they’re closing a billion-dollar deal or trading secrets.
The kind of place Maximus Sterling would choose for a “friendly” lunch and chat with his fake daughter-in-law.
I step out of the car, smoothing down my black dress and slipping my shades on because of how blazing hot the sun is. A valet opens the door for me, and when I step inside the building, a waiter greets me without even asking for my name.
He doesn’t need to.
There’s no one else in this entire building, and if Maximus had booked an entire restaurant, I’m sure they were already expecting me.
I wonde
