“Something Yuna said.”
“So this is the famous assistant who isn’t interested in fame or fortune.” He shoots her his least threatening smile, the one he bestows on distressed clients. A hint of surprise flickers in his eyes as he assesses her from top to bottom, probably because most celebrity assistants don’t dress in top-end couture. He extends a hand. “I’m Aiden Hill. Nice to meet you.”
“Yuna Hae. Pleasure.” She shakes his hand.
“Nice grip,” he says, eyebrows raised. He plays tennis and golf when he has the time, and has good forearm strength.
Yuna smiles.
“She plays the piano,” I tell Aiden.
“I heard from Melvin. Curtis, right?”
“Yes,” Yuna says. “I’m impressed Melvin remembered.”
I’m also impressed Aiden remembered that detail after Melvin told him. But then, his superb memory probably helped him get into Harvard Law.
“He was quite taken. He spoke to me about you, which is why I asked Declan to bring you for lunch. It isn’t every day you meet a woman who isn’t interested in a speaking part in one of Melvin’s movies.” He looks mildly bemused by the idea. But he’s used to dealing with clients who want their big break. “So what’s the joke?”
“I said you had to be a lawyer because you’re looking at everything like you want a reason to sue.”
I smirk, amused at how Yuna is so forthcoming.
Aiden laughs. “I’m always looking for potential liabilities. Habit developed from work. But unless I get food poisoning, I’m unlikely to sue this fine establishment.” He gives Yuna a conspiratorial look. “Never say never, though.”
Our server gives us our menus, fills our glasses with icy water and explains the special. Yuna orders lightly baked sea bream with basil sauce, and I ask for the beef special. Aiden gets the same. Then he adds a bottle of wine to split, which our server brings out promptly and serves once Aiden takes a sip and okays it.
After the server leaves, Aiden pulls out a fancy-looking black and gold bag and hands it to me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“A Bordeaux.”
Yuna looks
at the label with interest. “I’ve never heard of this vineyard. Is it good?”
“It’s new. One of my clients’ friends started it a couple of years ago. The place hasn’t gone belly up, so I presume they know how to produce a decent vintage.”
“You haven’t tasted it?” I ask. Aiden is a wine connoisseur. There’s no way he hasn’t, but he’s acting like he’s never had a chance.
“I just got a case this morning at the office, and I had to go to the court over some motion—which was frankly ridiculous, because the opposing counsel is a donkey who was dropped on his head when he was young.” Aiden sneers, and Yuna laughs. “Anyway, I figured I’d give you”—he points at me—“a bottle, and you’ll tell me how it is by this afternoon.”
“So I’m your guinea pig.” Which I don’t mind too much, because Aiden doesn’t give out bad wine.
“She can be, too.” Aiden gestures at Yuna. “Unless you only drink famous labels.”
“I’ll drink anything that tastes good,” Yuna says. “It’s never about the price or how famous the vineyard is.”
Aiden’s eyebrow quirks. “I thought you might care, given the way you’re dressed.”
“I dress the way I do because I don’t feel like buying new but cheaper clothes just to make some people comfortable,” Yuna says with a polite but pointed smile. “Also, my family expects me to keep up a certain standard of appearance.”
Which is a dick move, considering how they’ve cut her off.
I guess what I’m thinking shows on my face, because she pats my hand. “My existing wardrobe is pretty significant, although I miss shopping.”
Our server interrupts to bring out our lunch. My beef dish is rich, but not bad. Still, I like the stuff at Éternité better. I make a mental note to take Yuna there soon.