The Stranger at Table 12
She turned to see a man sliding confidently into the empty seat beside her. Tall, composed, and dressed in a charcoal suit that whispered wealth without flaunting it. His piercing gray-blue eyes met hers with something she hadn’t felt all night—respect.
“Your sister just spent ten minutes telling my business associate you’re desperate,” he murmured. “I figured you might need an ally. Mind if I play the part?”
Too stunned to argue, Hannah nodded. “Do whatever you like.”
“Good,” he said, extending a hand. “William Ashford. Richard’s cousin. And for tonight, your partner.”
In that instant, Hannah’s humiliation cracked—replaced by something she hadn’t expected: hope.
