Chapter 30

The Bristol Room at Le Maison, one of London’s most exclusive French restaurants, was filled with Sinclair & Klein staff. Every private dining room was occupied except the premium suite.

“Quite generous of you, choosing The Imperial,” a young associate remarked to Thalia. “Last time I was here was for the firm’s holiday party.”

Sarah Thompson added, with a calculated smile, “You must have done well in New York. With over fifty people here tonight, this will be quite the bill.”

“Indeed,” Daniel Parker chimed in pleasantly.

Rachel Wilson’s voice dripped with false concern. “Oh my, are you sure about this, darling? Le Maison runs about £150 per head. With wine, we’re looking at three months of a junior associate’s salary. We could always find somewhere more… suitable to your means.”

Since their first encounter that morning, Thalia had sensed Rachel’s hostility. This confirmed her instincts.

“I can manage,” Thalia replied smoothly.

“Well, well,” Rachel pressed. “You must have some profitable secrets from your Wall Street days. Do enlighten us.”

Thalia’s response was perfectly measured. “No secrets—we’re all lawyers here. Major cases pay well, smaller ones less so. Though I’m hardly as established as you, Rachel. Three years in and I still can’t afford a car, while I hear you’ve just bought that lovely townhouse in Mayfair.”

Technically true—her salary alone wouldn't cover a luxury vehicle. She omitted mentioning the Porsche 911 and Rolls-Royce Phantom in her family’s garage, not to mention Alexander’s Maserati or Asher’s ice-blue Bentley.

Rachel, oblivious to Thalia’s background, took smug satisfaction in Thalia’s perceived admission of financial inferiority.

As ordering began, Sarah deliberately selected the most lavish items—fresh oysters, wagyu beef, vintage wines. Her choices alone approached £800.

Lucy Jenkins, the trainee solicitor beside Thalia, anxiously whispered, “I… I can’t possibly contribute to this.”

“Don’t worry,” Thalia squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It’s my treat.”

The final bill neared £7,000, including wines and cocktails. Thalia’s slight smile went unnoticed. They were obviously trying to take advantage, but with her restored access to the Winters accounts, it was hardly worth noting. She considered it a professional investment.

Midway through dinner, Thalia excused herself to the restroom.

“Running away already?” Rachel called after her. “Don’t tell me you can’t pay!”

“Would you like to escort me to the ladies’ room?” Thalia replied coolly.

Near the elevators, she unexpectedly encountered Asher.

“Thalia?” He looked surprised, surrounded by several executives in bespoke suits. “What brings you here?”

“Dinner with colleagues,” she smiled. “What a coincidence.”

His expression softened. “How was your first day?”

“Fine,” she said, omitting her coworkers’ behavior.

“Let me drive you home?”

“Still early. Don’t wait for me.”

“Be careful then. Have you arranged for a car?”

“I’m staying at my flat nearby.”

“Alright. Text me when you’re home.”

Later, when Thalia went to settle the massive bill, she learned Asher had already paid. She texted him a quick thanks.

“[I’m waiting in the parking lot,]” he replied. “[Let me drive you home.]”

The warmth of his concern spread through her chest.

After helping her intoxicated colleagues into cabs, Thalia watched Rachel drive off in her Honda Civic with a smug expression. Lucy insisted she could walk safely to her nearby apartment.

When Thalia’s phone buzzed later that evening, the message made her pause:

“[In London. Drinks? We need to talk. – Drake]”