The restaurant was one of those elite places that had too much glass, too many waiters, too much decor and mild food, expensive enough to suck in the rich and make them feel wealthy while they overcharged for everything else.
Ryan arrived exactly on time, sharp in a navy-blue suit, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses that cost more than most people's rent, he was there to impress. Ian had invited him for the second time. Ian was already seated at the private patio table, his fingers tapping against a scotch glass. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned slightly at the top, no tie, no tension.
"You came," Ian said, standing to shake his hand.
"I was curious," Ryan replied, keeping his tone polite but unreadable.
