The Chair in the Center of the Table

“I’m sorry, my love,” he said. “I’m late.”

The whole dining room forgot how to breathe.

My mother turned pale. Claire stood up. Logan whispered a curse.

Because this wasn’t just another guest. This was Nathan Cole, owner of Cole Hospitality Group—the hotel magnate my father had spent the past six months trying to win the biggest contract of his career from.

And he had just called me my love.

My father slowly rose from his chair, his face drained of color. “Emily… do you know Mr. Cole?”