The silver cutlery clanked on the bone china plates, mouthwatering scents of the dishes freshly cooked by the elite chef wafting in the air. Unlike the meat, which was so tender the knife glided through it as if it were butter, the tension hanging over the table was so intense you wouldn't be able to cut it even if you were to swing an axe.
Lane slowly cut a piece of beef and placed it in his mouth. It felt like cardboard, dry and devoid of any flavor. Or maybe it was his mouth that was so dry? Either way, he forced himself to swallow, trying to push the lump blocking his throat down with the meat.
It didn't work.
"You have been ignoring our calls lately." After a good few minutes of silence, Miles finally spoke.
Causing Lane to roll his eyes with the very first sentence. The way the man had put it, it almost seemed as if they had always been in touch, but recently Lane ghosted them or something!
