Avery blinked, her fork hovering mid-air as she turned in the direction of the voice she already knew all too well.
There he was.
Silas stood tall and composed at the entrance of their private dining room, dressed in a sleek black suit that looked almost tailor-made for him—because knowing him, it probably was. A slow grin spread across his face, full of mischief and confidence, as his eyes locked with hers.
"May I?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow as if he hadn't just casually crashed her company dinner like it was his personal date night.
Avery stared at him, her mind racing. How the hell did he even know where she was?
Before she could ask, Naya—seated neatly on Avery's left—sprang to her feet like a startled deer, her voice rushed and nervous. "Boss! Sir called me earlier and asked which restaurant you were going to... He said he wanted to celebrate with you after your press conference, so I told him. I—uh—I even made sure that seat was reserved for him."
