He turned his attention to Laura, his posture shifting instantly into that of the gracious, wealthy host.

“Ah, Chef Laura, correct? Monica told me she found the best in the city.”

Laura paused her knife, giving him a polite, professional nod.

“Good evening, Mr. Vance. The menu is coming along nicely.”

“Excellent,” Derek said, crossing his arms and leaning against the marble island. “My partners from the firm are very particular about their dining. Especially Richard.”

“I am familiar with Mr. Lindell’s preferences,” Laura said smoothly. “We have prepared the tenderloin exactly to his liking.”

Derek nodded, clearly pleased that his name carried weight even with the hired staff.

He turned back to me, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in my appearance.

“You haven’t changed yet,” he said, his tone dipping into that quiet, dangerous edge.

“I wanted to make sure Laura had everything she needed first,” I said.

“The guests will be here in less than an hour,” he said, reaching out to grasp my chin between his thumb and forefinger.