Chapter 11 - A Tense Dinner
Grant, ever the improviser, quickly tried to recover his footing. He forced a loud, boisterous laugh, ushering the trio into the dining room. "Well, the more the merrier! Please, sit down. Let me introduce you."
He gestured toward me as if presenting a mildly interesting piece of furniture. "This is my wife, Mara. You'll have to excuse her; she’s incredibly shy and doesn't get out much."
Julian pulled out a chair, his eyes locking onto mine across the table. "We’ve met," he said softly.
Grant let out another forced chuckle as he poured the expensive wine. "I highly doubt that, sir. Mara rarely leaves the house. She prefers to stay home."
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I served the soup in silence. Grant took his seat at the head of the table, lifted his spoon, and tasted the heavily salted broth. He swallowed hard, his eyes flashing with a brief, murderous rage in my direction, but he masked it instantly for his audience. He smiled tightly and launched into a prepared speech about loyalty, dedication, and corporate synergy.
He spoke passionately about his division, claiming he had personally increased regional profits by twenty percent over the last fiscal year. "I even discovered some troubling accounting errors made by the junior staff," Grant boasted, swirling his wine. "But I handled it. Integrity is everything to me, Julian."
