Xander Langford—how he hated these artificial meetings in the most expensive restaurants with people who dreamed of working with him.

To him, they were pathetic, their tricks as weak as glass.

Bored, he tapped his finger on his glass of water—sitting between some businessman whose name he couldn't remember and his wife.

He held her hand on her lap as he sat up straight, glancing every now and then to see how she was feeling.

She didn't fit in with that bastards—she was too pure.