“Thank you, ma’am,” Laura replied, bowing her head slightly before stepping back toward the kitchen.

Derek remained frozen, his fingers still pinned against the thick paper.

A single drop of sweat formed near his temple, reflecting the bright light of the crystal chandelier above.

“Derek, your lamb is going to get cold,” I said, picking up my fork. “And I know how much you hate cold food.”

He looked up at me, his eyes narrowing into the sharp, icy glare he usually reserved for private rooms behind closed doors.

It was the look that meant I would pay for this later.

But tonight, the rules of his game had changed.

“I don’t think business can’t wait an hour, Monica,” Derek said, his voice forced into a light, casual register.

He made a move to slide the envelope under his linen napkin.

“Actually,” I said, turning to Richard. “I think Richard would want to see this particular contract immediately.”

Richard frowned, looking between the two of us, his curiosity clearly piqued.

“Is there a problem with the funding, Derek?” Richard asked, his tone shifting from friendly guest to shrewd investor.