Dax left the office and walked down the corridor, the muted gold at his cuffs catching the sconces' light. The double doors to the private dining room stood open, the table set for three.
Through the archway he saw them waiting: Mia perched on the edge of a chair, eyes everywhere, already drinking the place in. Chris beside her, shoulders tight in the black suit, slippered feet hidden under the table.
When he stepped into the room, the staff melted away as instructed, with no bows or murmured titles, just the soft clink of glasses being set down. The smell of warm bread and spiced wine curled into the air.
"Good evening," Dax said, his voice lower than it had been at lunch. "Come. Let's eat."
Mia rose first, smoothing her dress. Up close she caught the look that passed over his face when his eyes moved from her to Chris, a flicker of warmth that cut straight through the calm violet gaze. It startled her enough to make her grin.
