"I'm sorry, sir, but as I explained, your reservation has been... reassigned," the manager repeated, his eyes avoiding mine.
I studied him carefully. The way his gaze darted nervously toward the dining room told me everything I needed to know. This wasn't just a booking error.
"Who exactly took our table?" I pressed, keeping my voice level.
The manager fidgeted with his tie. "Mr. Juan Diaz from Brilliant Real Estate required additional seating for his party, and as you hadn't arrived yet..."
"We're thirty minutes early," Eamon protested, his face flushing with indignation. "How is that late?"
I placed a calming hand on his shoulder. Getting angry wouldn't solve anything. "Which table was it?"
"Table Three, sir. Our best view of the city."
"I see." I nodded slowly. "And this Mr. Diaz... he simply decided he wanted our table?"
The manager's smile tightened. "He's a very important client."
"And we're not," Eamon muttered bitterly.
