(Aaliyah’s POV)
I tapped my foot nervously while I sat in the plush corner booth of the ridiculously expensive restaurant Mr. Lancaster had insisted on for our meeting today.
The linen napkins on the table had been folded into perfect triangles when I got here, but I had unfolded and refolded them about ten times already in the past five minutes, just to keep my hands busy.
My stomach was in knots, though if I was being honest, it wasn’t just because of the restaurant’s intimidating grandeur.
It was more the thought of eating in public.
I couldn’t help but think about the last time I’d dared to eat out alone, how that one Karen—it’s always a woman, isn’t it—had approached me, tone dripping with fake concern. “Sweetheart, are you sure you need that burger? A salad might be a better cho
