"We aren't partners until the ink is dry," Melanie said smoothly, pretending to review his contract again.
Using the folder as a shield, she discreetly typed out a text message on her phone.
Shawn sipped his whiskey. As his glass neared empty, he cast a sly, sidelong glance at her.
"Your proposal is generous, but the details are too vague," Melanie said, pulling her own perfectly organized files from her bag.
"This is our catalog. Everything is classified by age, grade, and efficacy."
"Even if you're throwing money at us, we need exact specifications."
She spent the next thirty minutes breaking down the professional supply chain for holistic materials.
"I think that covers the basics for today."
Shawn had been resting his chin on his hand, staring at her the entire time.
For thirty minutes, his gaze hadn't wavered.
His eyes were dark, practically dripping with predatory interest.
It was obvious he didn't care about the business. He was entirely fixated on her.
Even a blind man could see his obsession.
Melanie knew he hadn't absorbed a single word she said.
But she needed the distraction to buy time.
As she snapped her briefcase shut, Shawn stretched lazily.
"Tell me, Angel... are you feeling a little lightheaded?"
Melanie's hands froze for a fraction of a second.
Then, she smiled.
"I'm not like you. I didn't drink my whiskey."
With deliberate slowness, she picked up her nearly full glass and poured the whiskey—and the ice—straight into Shawn's empty glass.
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