Adam Lewiston
The air was lighter now. The stifling tension that had clung to the early part of the evening, a product of navigating Gracian’s sharp wit and discerning palate, had dissipated with the last bottle of Chateau Margaux. Lu’s laughter echoed through the penthouse as we walked Gracian toward the elevator. Lu kept close at my side, still slightly flushed from the wine—or perhaps from the compliments Gracian had showered him with during dinner. James followed discreetly a few steps behind, polite as ever but observant.“I have to say,” Gracian said as we neared the doors, his hand resting on the cool metal, “it’s been a long time since I’ve had such a memorable dinner. And the chef…” He glanced at Lu with a warm smile, “well, he’s one to watch.”Lu gave a nervous chuckle and dipped his head slightly. “Thank you, sir.”Gracian looked at me next. “But forgive me for asking, Adam…” His tone had shifted just slightly, just enough to draw atten
