When she returned to her seat, she felt the woman staring at her.
"While we're taking a break, tell me about yourself. What you do outside of work for fun."
This was getting weirder, but maybe it was a Japanese thing, so Amery played along. Talking about her interests and her friends without giving too much away was much harder than she imagined.
Ms. Hirano sliced a chunk of mango and speared it with her fork. "You're not in a relationship?"
She stomped down the urge to snap none of your damn business and can we please keep this focused on business? The thing between her and Ronin wasn't the type of relationship she could explain. Amery wet her suddenly dry lips. "No. I'm currently single."
"A woman who likes to play the field. I admire that."
But that wasn't what Amery had said. This woman had twisted her words and Amery heard another alarm bell go off.
Another bout of silence fell.
Something wasn't right. Amery continued to covertly scrutinize the woman, but big round lenses kept more than half of her features hidden.
Why was she playing so coy? Why had she started asking such personal questions? Why had Amery sensed a thread of hostility coming from her?
An odd thought clicked into place. Could this woman be Ronin's ex, Naomi? Kiki had warned Ronin that Naomi would be returning to Denver soon.
Her stomach pitched. She tried to remember if she'd been contacted by Maggie at Okada Foods before or after the run-in with Naomi's friend. Which brought her back to her original question: why had an international Japanese food conglomerate requested Amery's small company to prepare designs for a new major campaign? Then after a few weeks of clandestine phone calls and secretly working on project specs, she was invited to a last-minute meeting with the company's VP, not her usual Okada contact? A business meeting, which takes place in a private suite? A meeting in which they'd not discussed business at all, but the VP had grilled Amery on her personal life?
This was total bullshit.
"Is there a problem?" Ms. Hirano asked.
"Yes." Amery hoped she wasn't making a mistake. "Who are you really?"
"Excuse me?"
"Who are you? This last-minute meeting with the company bigwig doesn't make sense. Neither does the fact that none of your other business associates are here except for Jenko, who I'm assuming is your bodyguard since he didn't seem comfortable serving tea. And there's the fact that you can't even deign to look me in the eye. So you can understand why I'd be concerned this is some sort of scam."
"I assure you Okada Foods Conglomerate is not a scam."
"I know that. I did my research. I'm saying your being here doesn't make any sense and I wonder what you really want from me."
"A little paranoid, aren't you, Ms. Hardwick?"
Amery shrugged. "So prove me wrong."
"How?"
"Take off your sunglasses."
"Why is that necessary?"
"Because playing the cool, mysterious food magnate hidden behind unflattering cheap sunglasses doesn't ring true for you."
She cocked her head prettily. "How so?"
"Nothing about you is cheap. Or unstylish. You bought those sunglasses for one reason only; they're big enough to mask more than half of your face. So why do you want to hide your face from me?"
"You read that much into this? How is it you think you know so much about me thirty minutes after meeting me?"
Amery pointed to the purse on the opposite end of the table. "Your handbag is from Hermès and runs about twenty-five thousand dollars. The diamond-encrusted watch on your wrist is easily in the hundred-thousand-dollar range. Your shoes? Roughly ten grand. I don't have any idea which designer you're wearing, but I'll bet a month's rent that suit is not off the discount rack from a Tokyo department store. Your scarf, also Hermès, set you back around fifteen hundred bucks. So the cheap sunglasses don't fit. Besides, if you truly had a vicious headache, you wouldn't take a meeting with me."
She smiled. "Very astute."
"I don't know what game you're playing, but my gut instinct is warning me to walk out."
"Walk away from a project that could potentially pay you six figures?"
Don't think about the money; think about the principle. Amery raised her chin a notch. "Yes, ma'am. Who are you?"
"Who do you think I am?"
Ask if she's Naomi.
No. She didn't even know Naomi's last name. "You ditching the shades or not?"
"How like him you are," she muttered. "Believing eyes are the windows to the soul and all that crap."