Baron sat stiffly, trying to hide the impatience on his face as he watched Bella and Mr Langley sip their wine with a look of practised disdain.
He adjusted his tie and checked his watch again, muttering to himself. “How long could he possibly take?”
The door finally swung open, and Michael stepped in, his phone held to his ear in what appeared to be a hurried, whispered conversation.
His expression shifted from annoyance to something closer to disbelief as he took in the sight before him—the Langleys, perfectly composed, waiting as if they owned the place.
Mr. Langley lazily exhaled a puff of smoke, ignoring the “No Smoking” sign mounted on the wall.
Michael’s lips pressed into a thin line at the blatant disregard, the warning playing in his mind: "Smokers are liable to die young.
