Maddison's POV
"I believe that they have an excellent French 75," he remarked, his tone even and calm, as though the woman and her rude comment were not there. "Or would champagne be more preferable to your liking?"
The small shift of topic, the dismissal of the attack with a blank face, was a lesson in power. He wasn't saying, he was showing how one lives in this world. You don't fight. You just move on up. Maddison took a shaken breath and sat down in the chair.
"Champagne would be lovely," she said, voice a little tight, but smiled at him, eyes shining with thanks. He smiled, slightly, and sat. A waiter appeared out of nowhere as though he was summoned by an unseen sign, and Grant ordered a special Cristal bottle without even looking at a menu. The quiet richness was another statemen
