The Taste of Deception
"Mr. Lucas, if there's nothing else, we'll leave now. If you need our delivery service, just let us know."
The staff spoke respectfully.
The words were polite, practiced—but beneath them lingered a quiet urgency. No one wanted to remain in the presence of a man who looked like he might explode at any moment.
Lucas stood there, shoulders tight, fingers tapping once against the armrest of the chair before stilling.
"Go, and don't let anyone in without my permission."
Lucas pointed impatiently at the door.
His tone left no room for misunderstanding.
The staff exchanged brief glances, then bowed slightly.
"Of course, Mr. Lucas. Please rest assured."
They withdrew quickly and carefully left the VIP lounge, closing the door behind them.
The soft click of the door echoed in the quiet room.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Sealed.
The kind of silence that presses against your ears.
Lucas didn't move immediately.
