Chapter 143

Sean POV

"Ms. Wilson has arrived!" Thomas suddenly exclaimed, pointing toward the entrance.

"Lower your voice," I hissed, pulling him back. "Don't let her see us."

Thomas immediately covered his mouth with his hand and hunched down, his eyes still peering anxiously over the railing. I glanced at my watch-still thirty minutes before our scheduled meeting time.

My breath caught as I observed Angela more carefully. She had dressed with particular care today-a tailored navy dress that accentuated her figure, hair styled in loose waves that framed her face, makeup applied with subtle precision.

Her lipstick was a vibrant shade that made her lips look irresistibly kissable, drawing attention to their moist fullness.

She looked elegant yet undeniably sensual.

I felt something shift inside me-admiration quickly giving way to a burning jealousy, then to cold anger.

Why is she here so early? Is she that eager to meet a strange man?

And why would she dress so beautifully for a stranger? She never put in this much effort when meeting me...

My fist clenched involuntarily. After a moment, I consciously relaxed my fingers, reminding myself, Calm down. The stranger she's meeting is "Mr. Night"-which is me.

Angela entered with confident grace, her designer handbag complementing her polished appearance. The uniformed waiter immediately approached her.

"Ms. Wilson, good afternoon," he greeted with practiced professionalism.

"Hello," she replied. "I have a reservation with Mr. Night."

The waiter nodded and began guiding her through the restaurant. I watched with growing confusion as he led her not toward the window tables but in the opposite direction-toward the staircase leading to our private level.

"What's happening?" I muttered. "Did the waiter misunderstand, or is there a problem with the reservation?"

The waiter continued leading Angela toward the stairs that would bring her directly to our section.

"Oh my God," Thomas whispered, panic evident in his voice. "The waiter isn't bringing her up here, is he? Mr. Shaw, what do we do?"

Thomas's eyes widened with anxiety. "What now? She'll discover us! You're not really here to meet her-you're using Mr. Night's identity to disrupt her date with Christopher Blake. If she sees you now, won't your identity be exposed?"

"Why are you panicking?" I replied calmly. "Take a breath. She's merely coming upstairs. What's strange about running into us here? Do you really think she'd connect me to Mr. Night?"

Thomas seemed to collect himself. "You're right. We're not sitting at the table where she was supposed to meet him. She can't possibly figure out this scheme."

He grabbed his coffee cup and took a large gulp, trying to steady his nerves.

Moments later, the waiter led Angela up the stairs and toward the private area where we were seated. To my astonishment, he stopped at the table directly next to ours.

"Ms. Wilson, this is your reserved table with Mr. Night," the waiter announced.

A tense silence fell over all three of us. Thomas froze mid-sip. I maintained a neutral expression despite my surprise. Angela, who had already noticed us while ascending the stairs, stood perfectly still, her expression shifting rapidly.

I observed as confusion gave way to dawning comprehension, then to unmistakable disgust on her face.

"I'm sorry," she said to the waiter, her voice crisp with barely contained irritation, "but I've changed my mind about this location. Could we move to a different table?"

She inquired whether there were any available tables downstairs.

"Yes, we do have several open tables," the waiter confirmed.

"That would be better," Angela nodded. "Please find me a window seat-"

Before she could finish, I rose from my chair and moved to stand beside her. She instinctively stepped backward.

Her heel caught, and she stumbled. I reacted instantly, my arm circling her waist and pulling her against me. She collided with my chest, and I breathed in the familiar scent of her perfume, feeling the softness of her body against mine.

"That nervous to see me?" I asked, my voice low and teasing.

Once steady, Angela pushed against me. "Let go of me."

I remained immovable, my arm firmly around her waist. The waiter, sensing the tension, took two steps back.

"Since we know each other," I said smoothly, "why not join my table? No need to trouble yourself going downstairs."

I guided Angela toward my table, my arm still possessively around her waist.

"Who says I want to sit with you?" Angela struggled against my hold. "Let me go! And why are you even here? What are you trying to do? Are you following me?"

I gave her a cold smile. "Angela, why don't you ask the waiter when we arrived? You might find the answer interesting."

She paused, suddenly realizing that I had been here before her.

Thomas stood quickly, attempting to ease the tension. "Ms. Wilson, what a coincidence! You're here for lunch too? It's already late afternoon and you're just having lunch now? Well, since we've run into each other, why not join us?"

"No thank you," Angela replied firmly. "I won't be dining with you."

"Even if it's with Wilson Advisory Partners' main investor?" I asked, the threat barely veiled in my tone.

Angela's eyes flashed. "Are you threatening me?"

"If you see it as a threat, then perhaps it is."

"Go ahead and withdraw your investment," she challenged. "See if I care?"

"You really think I wouldn't?"

"Well, you went to such great lengths to invest in the first place," she replied with biting sarcasm. "So you tell me."

My expression hardened, my green eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Let go."

I made no move to release her.

"Mr. Shaw, Ms. Wilson," Thomas interjected nervously, "please, both of you calm down. "

He leaned closer to me and whispered, "Sir, perhaps you should let her go now."

Reluctantly, I loosened my grip.

The moment she was free, Angela stepped back, putting distance between us. I kept my gaze fixed on her, my eyes never leaving her face.

"Ms. Wilson," Thomas tried again, "why not sit with us? Let's all be civil, shall we?"

"No need," Angela replied. "I have another appointment."

"With whom?" I demanded.

"That's none of your business."

"A man?" I pressed.

"Why does it matter to you?"

I felt a flare of jealousy but forced a dismissive smile. "Christopher Blake, I assume?"

Thomas watched me carefully, noting my rising irritation.

"Yes, actually," Angela confirmed with a cold smile. "I'm meeting Christopher for lunch, and then we're going to look at cars this afternoon. If there's nothing else, I'll be leaving now."

She pulled out her phone and began walking toward the exit, pretending to dial Christopher's number.

As she passed by me, I quickly caught her wrist in my grip.

"Let go of me!" she demanded.

"Going car shopping?" I replied. "I'll come with you."