Page 18 of Company Ink

"Cassie..." Adrian warns me, turning onto the street. "I'm serious."

"I know, I know. I was joking. I'll be good." I smile, holding two fingers up to my forehead. "Scout's honor."

The drive to Miso Bella takes under ten minutes. Adrian hands the valet his keys and we make our way inside the Japanese/Italian fusion restaurant. This spot only opened up two months ago which is probably why I had to fight tooth and nail to make a reservation. The hostess escorts us down the black marble tiled floor to the back of the restaurant. All the tables are abstract versions of ovals, surrounded by maroon wingback chairs. Above each table, individual vintage bulbs suspend from the ceiling in various lengths. The atmosphere is almost that of a futuristic chalet: dark wooden accents and vibrant pops of white and red.

Mr. and Mrs. Chan both rise as we approach our reserved table. I hope they weren't waiting for long but seeing as Adrian and I are fifteen minutes early, they have no right to be upset.

"Alfred, Tiffany." Adrian holds out his hand and gives Mr. Chan a firm handshake. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you both in person." Adrian motions towards me. "This, is my assistant Cassandra Carrington, she'll be joining us for lunch today."

I smile kindly at our potential clients and shake both of their hands. "It's nice to meet you both."

Mrs. Chan looks fucking intimidating compared to her jolly grinned husband. The woman looks like a painting; perfect skin, not a hair out of place, and enough diamonds around her neck to blind an entire nation.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with us," Mr. Chan says, gesturing for us to sit down. A server strolls by and hands each one of us a menu. "If everything goes well today, we hope to see more of you in the future."

I take a seat across from Tiffany and suck in a breath. Despite Mr. Chan's warm features, the man sure knows how to command a room.

Adrian and Alfred make small talk while perusing their respective menus. I keep mine closed and inquire about Mrs. Chan's jaw-dropping necklace. When a person wears something that flashy, I assume they want to talk about it.

The server arrives with an iPad in hand and asks everyone for their orders. The Chan's go first and holy shit—the customized requests are never ending. My eyes slightly widen as I listen to Tiffany rip apart each dish and create her own version of the food. The woman swapped out three out of the five ingredients in her entrée. Talk about high maintenance.

Adrian leans over to me and whispers, "you haven't opened your menu, Cassie. Are you not planning on eating?"

"I am, but I don't need the menu."

Adrian's eyebrows furrow. "Have you been here before?"

"No," I giggle. "I just don't do menus."

Adrian hums, his eyes flickering with intrigue. "What does that even mean?"

Before I can explain, the server interrupts us. "And for you ma'am?"

I hand her my untouched menu. "I'll have whatever is the chef's favorite."

"Um—" she stammers, looking wildly confused. "Okay... any allergies?"

I shake my head. "Nope. I'll eat anything," I smile.

"Alright, and for you, sir?" she asks Adrian, and he orders the fried fish with a side of shishitos.

"Chef's favorite?" Adrian asks once our waitress is out of sight.

"I figure that's probably the best item on the menu." I shrug. "I haven't been disappointed yet."

Adrian studies me with glimmering eyes for several seconds before so kindly commenting, "You're a very peculiar woman, aren't you?"

I roll my eyes subtly. "Peculiarity is in the eye of the beholder," I whisper. "Maybe you're just uptight."

"Uptight?" Adrian scoffs in a gruff tone, looking baffled.

I shrug coyly, flashing him a dazzling smile then turning my attention back to Tiffany just as our drinks arrive.

For the next hour, Adrian and Alfred discuss the firm and its various clients and previous success, while Tiffany and I talk about runway fashion and the symbolism of bonsai trees. I'm going to have to thank Monique for sending me random BBC documentary clips, otherwise I'd have zero input on the topic.

By the end of lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Chan are practically smitten. Apparently, Adrian and I are quite the pair when it comes to ass-kissing and charming the shit out of people. Not only did I make Tiffany laugh out loud three times with my impeccable humor, but my anecdote about LA fitness trainers had Mr. Chan so amused that he snorted Sapporo out of his nose.

"That went better than I thought it would," Adrian admits after we bid our farewells to the Chan's. "You were great, Cassie. Really. Tiffany looked like she had a great time."

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