KELLAN’S POV
A place dealing in no loud conversations, some sort of restaurant where everybody had a title and every smile was some calculated chess move, the soft clinking of cutlery against the porcelain hummed in like the underscore as I adjusted my cuffs and leaned back into the chair.
Across from me sat Carl Martins, immaculate in his gray suit. There was something about him that screamed power and control, a taut inch of him, but the manner in which he sat informed me that he was not quite as comfortable as he came across. Amanda Dawson she sat quietly now beside him, her hands folded delicately in her lap.
She had not once glanced my way since our arrival.
“Your London expansion seems to go really well, Kellan." Smack in the middle between calm and a smirk, the smoothness in Carl's voice was a forerunner of wine sipped from the glass. "I heard BAES Enterprises are looking at trying to pace ahead of Westfield International in its acquisitions. Ambitious."