Chapter 4 - Reservations for Two
At 7:55 p.m., the glittering dining room of Lumière was alive with the soft hum of jazz music, the clinking of crystal champagne flutes, and the low murmur of Chicago’s elite enjoying the start of their weekend. The restaurant was bathed in warm amber lighting, casting romantic shadows across white tablecloths and plush velvet booths. It was the kind of place where people went to celebrate milestones, anniversaries, and—in Daniel’s case—infidelity disguised as business dinners.
Claire stood just inside the arched entryway, partially hidden by a tall, elegant floral arrangement of white orchids. She wore a backless emerald-green silk dress that hugged her frame like liquid emerald, her hair styled in sleek, cascading waves, and a pair of diamond drop earrings that caught every flicker of candlelight. She looked stunning, untouchable, and utterly lethal.
Through the clear glass partition separating the bar from the main dining room, she spotted him.
Daniel was sitting at a corner booth—the exact same booth listed on the Wednesday night receipt. Across from him sat Chloe Vance—no relation to Marcus—a twenty-four-year-old junior marketing executive at Daniel’s firm whom Claire had met twice at office holiday parties. Chloe was laughing loudly, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder and leaning across the table to touch Daniel’s arm with manicured fingers. Daniel was smiling that familiar, lazy smile he used to reserve only for Claire in the early days of their romance. He raised his glass of expensive Bordeaux in a toast, his eyes locked on Chloe with a look of predatory adoration.
Claire felt a cold spike of adrenaline rush through her veins, but her face remained as smooth and unreadable as marble. She didn't rush forward. She didn't cause a scene. Instead, she signaled the maître d’—a suave, impeccably dressed man named Antoine whom she had tipped generously earlier that afternoon during a brief phone call.
Antoine walked over smoothly, offering a practiced, charming smile. "Good evening, madame. Table for one?"
"Not quite, Antoine," Claire said, her voice low, steady, and dripping with controlled authority. She reached into her structured leather briefcase and pulled out the thick, heavy manila envelope stamped with court seals. "I need you to deliver this package to the gentleman in the corner booth. Table fourteen. Give it directly to Mr. Daniel Bennett. Make sure he opens it before his entrees arrive."
Antoine glanced down at the official court seal, then up at Claire’s flawless, icy expression. A flicker of professional understanding crossed his eyes. In River North, high-society drama was nothing new, but this had a terrifying elegance to it.
May you like
"Consider it done, madame," Antoine murmured, taking the envelope with steady hands. "Shall I offer him a glass of champagne on the house to celebrate the occasion?"
"No, Antoine," Claire replied with a razor-sharp smile. "Let him choke on his own steak."
