Soon, several tall, strong young men carried out two semicircular tables and chairs. Working together, they unfolded the tables, arranged the seats, laid tablecloths and chopsticks. The empty yard was soon set with a simple, rustic round table.

Two more young men brought a large glass lazy Susan, dusted it off as they spun it.

Neville smiled apologetically. “Mia, this was last-minute. Hope you don’t mind.”

I didn’t mind at all. I’d grown up in the slums—I’d eaten in far worse places. A table was more than enough.

But what about everyone else…

I glanced around. These were all big names in the industry. It was their first time somewhere...