"Will it just be the three of you today?" the manager asked politely, his tone smooth, practiced.
Harriet paused for a fraction of a second, as if recalling something. "There will be four of us," she corrected, her voice calm but certain.
Nigel and I exchanged a quick glance, silent questions passing between us. Another guest? The air shifted slightly, curiosity stirring beneath the surface, but Harriet was already immersed in conversation again, leaving no space for interruption.
Then the door opened.
The movement was subtle, but the presence that followed was not.
A tall figure stepped inside, carrying his suit jacket in one hand, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. The simplicity of it did nothing to diminish him—if anything, it sharpened the quiet authority radiating from him, the kind that pressed against instinct without needing to announce itself.
My breath caught.
Elliot.
Of course he came.
