"Sorry, but all our private rooms are fully booked today-except for one..." The hostess nced at Effie and her group, clearly ufortable.


    Irving Butler stepped forward and said, "Then just give us the one that''s left."


    They''d alreadye all this way. The guests had finally agreed to stay, and if they tried to switch restaurants now, it''d be a real hassle.


    Besides, this was the only ce nearby with reliably good food, a favorite haunt of the wealthy and well-connected.


    The hostess bit her lip, ncing nervously at Irving. "It''s not that we don''t want to help, but... Thest room is reserved exclusively for Mr. Etheridge, CEO of the Etheridge Group. Unless he gives explicit permission, we''re not allowed to let anyone else use it."


    Irving blinked in surprise. He thought, Well, if it''s our CEO''s private room, surely it''s fine to use it for entertaining some importantpany guests.


    He patted his chest and said confidently, “Let me check with Mr. Etheridge."


    Of course, he''d never dare call Lyman Etheridge directly; instead, he dialed Lyman''s assistant.


    Effie, meanwhile, was eager to secure the room and get the meeting underway- she didn''t want any morest-minute surprises ruining their chances.


    She stepped away from the group, phone in hand, and called Lyman herself.


    Lyman saw her name sh on his phone and answered without hesitation. "Hey, sweetheart, are you done for the day?"


    As soon as he spoke, a chorus of teasing voices erupted nearby. He turned to see Randell and his buddies making a spectacle, all waggling their eyebrows and grinning.


    With a steely nce, Lyman shut them up instantly; an awkward silence fell over the table.


    Effie heard themotion on the other end and felt herself blush, as if she''d be the punchline to their joke.


    She took a steadying breath and tried to sound calm. "Not yet. Something came up, and now we need to find a new private room. Is your suite at Elliott''s Cozy Room free right now? I was hoping we could use it for a bit."


    Lyman had thought Effie was done for the night and was just about ready to ditch these rowdy bachelors to go see her.


    But hearing she was still busy, he replied, "Of course. I''ll let the staff know. Next time, just go straight there—you don''t need to call."


    Effie understood what he was implying and quickly added, "No need to make a big deal out of it. Just say it''s for a friend. No need to mention me."


    She wasn''t ready to reveal her connection to him, not in front of these people.


    Lyman agreed, not caring how she wanted to handle it; whatever she asked, he''d go along with.


    With the problem solved, Effie headed back to the lobby.


    At the same time, Irving Butler finished his call with Lyman''s assistant and was waiting for a response.


    Effie approached the hostess and said, “Hi, I''ve also made a call about the room. Could you please check?"


    "Just a moment," the hostess replied.


    Irving walked over, curiosity piqued. "Effie, who did you call? You have Mr. Etheridge''s number?"


    Effie''s eyes shed with a hint of caution. Of course she couldn''t admit she had Lyman''s number.


    "I don''t have Mr. Etheridge''s contact, but I do have Mr. Hoffman''s. We''ve worked together before. He said he''d speak to Mr. Etheridge for me."


    Irving frowned, displeased. "Who told you to take matters into your own hands? By going over Mr. Etheridge''s head and asking his friend to intercede, you''re just making things moreplicated-and now you owe Mr. Hoffman a favor. Is that something you can pay back?"


    His anger masked something deeper: he was upset because Effie had stolen his thunder.


    And, beneath it all, he was jealous. Jealous that Effie might actually have gotten close to Randell. After all, who else would pull strings like that after just one coboration?