Renee felt abruptly sick of herself, sick of her family. Sick, most of all, of Yap Ket Siong. He was one of the only people she’d ever known who’d liked her for who she was, who didn’t want anything more from her than she was happy to give. She’d been enough for him as she was, no more and no less. Until she wasn’t.
She didn’t have time for this. She’d promised to write up a note on the morning’s presentation for Su Khoon to circulate to Chahaya’s top team. The call with the Virtu office building manager was in half an hour’s time, and she needed to email her supplier about the homeware samples that had come in.
She tapped out:
I don’t think that’s a good idea, sorry.
Then Renee blocked his number, so she wouldn’t have to keep thinking about him and all the ways they’d let each other down.
25
The restaurant Andrewwanted to try was in Mayfair. Su Khoon’s PA had booked a private dining room for their lunch with him. This had sounded good in theory, but it turned out to be in the basement—something of a letdown after the bright, airy ground floor of the restaurant, with its white walls and high ceilings.
Descending a dimly lit flight of stairs into a windowless room, Renee felt some doubt as to whether this was an improvement. She’d never understood why restaurants thought it was fancy not to be able to see what you were eating, or the people you were eating it with.
But then again, given Andrew was going to be there, the less Renee was able to make out of the company, the better. They weren’t that big a party, so it was unlikely she’d be able to avoid talking to him. Only the decision-makers on each side were in attendance.
Fortunately, Su Khoon’s PA hadn’t been quite so organised as to come up with a seating plan. Renee managed to manoeuvre herself into a seat next to Lin.
Over the past few weeks, she’d gained an impression of Lin as being highly competent and severely underrated. It said a lot about her that she was the only woman visible on the Freshview side of the deal, and the only Malay woman in a predominantly Chinese team.
Sure, Lin was friends with Renee’s sister-in-law, who hatedher. But Renee wasn’t going to hold that against Lin, if Lin didn’t hold it against her.
They were chatting about skincare, exchanging tips on what had and hadn’t worked to banish their teenage acne, when Lin cut herself off midsentence. She had been relaxed, laughing, but now she straightened up, an alert wariness passing over her face. Her mouth curved in something that was almost but not quite like a smile.
Renee turned to see Andrew had appropriated the chair to her right. The Chahaya business development guy had been sitting there a moment ago, but either he’d gone to the bathroom, or he’d been prevailed upon to give up his seat for Low Teck Wee’s nephew.
“Sorry I’m late,” said Andrew. His teeth flashed in what he no doubt thought was a charmingly boyish grin.
Renee cast a desperate glance at the other side of the table, where Su Khoon was sitting. She’d assumed he’d be keen to monopolise Andrew, given his philosophy on building relationships with people who mattered. But Su Khoon was off duty, chatting to his Freshview watch-nerd bros, his face already stained pink from the welcome glass of champagne.
There was nowhere to run. Gritting her teeth, Renee returned Andrew’s smile, though hers was probably even less convincing than Lin’s had been.
“When are you guys heading back to Singapore?” she said.
Lin was staying for an indefinite time: “Maybe two, three years. I’ll be supporting the project.”
“You must be desperate to get back,” said Renee to Andrew. He was sitting a little too close. She adjusted her chair discreetly to put an extra inch of distance between them—the most she could manage with the space available. “I’m sure Felicia can’t wait to see you.”
Her emphasis on his wife’s name was probably a little on the nose, but this wasn’t the time to be subtle.
“Felicia’s in Jakarta with her family,” said Andrew. “She’s got two nannies, her mom’s waiting on her hand and foot, and some Indonesian grandma comes to the house every day to massage her. I don’t think she’s missing me.” He laughed. “I’m not in a rush. There’s plenty of work to do, and I love London.”
His eyes strayed down her front.
Renee was wearing an Isabel Marant V-neck midi dress, black velvet with long sleeves. She hadn’t thought the dress was that low-cut when she put it on, but the way Andrew’s gaze was dipping downwards was making her wish she’d turned up in a high-collared sack.
It was a relief when the waitstaff brought in the amuse-bouches. Renee turned back to Lin. “What did the waiter say this was? A consommé? Great, I love a consommé.”
Renee usually enjoyed a tasting menu, but it was a different experience with Andrew to fend off. She wished she’d faked a cold and stayed home. After the first glass of champagne she stuck to water, but Andrew was subject to no such restraint. Each course was paired with wine and he knocked back a generous glass of every one. By the fourth and final entree, there was a warm, sweaty hand on Renee’s knee.
She drew her knee away, but the hand followed. She couldn’t shake it off without making it obvious to the table at large what was going on. She didn’t want to make a scene.
Andrew was relying on that, of course. Bile rose in her throat.
He waited till Lin was busy talking to the guy on her other side to shoot his shot.
“Renee…” Andrew shook his head, smiling. “I can’t get over the fact we’re here together. Running into you again, on this deal… it feels like fate.” He moved his mouth close to her ear and said, his voice gravelly, “You were always the one that got away.”
