"Dinner?" Jake repeated, leaning against the glass partition of Samantha's office, his eyes searching hers.
Samantha didn't look up from the file she was reviewing. "Yes. A private dinner. Marcus Reed requested it himself."
Jake's brow furrowed. "You're going?"
Her lips curved faintly, but her gaze stayed on the page. "Of course. He's dangerous, influential, and annoyingly curious. It would be rude to say no."
Jake crossed his arms, his tone caught between irritation and concern. "You don't owe him anything, Sam. You know that, right?"
Finally, she looked up — calm, measured, but with that glimmer in her eyes that always made him feel like he was standing too close to a flame. "I don't owe him. But I need to know what game he's playing. Marcus doesn't move without a motive."
He hesitated. Then softer, "Then have dinner with me instead. Tonight."
