He remained standing.
“Before we discuss the transaction, we're going to discuss what happened outside.”
Richard Mercer folded his hands.
“Daniel, I've already spoken to Sloane.”
“Have you?”
His tone wasn't loud.
Daniel almost never raised his voice.
People often mistook that for softness until they discovered that anger did not need volume when it had leverage.
Richard glanced at his daughter.
“What happened was unacceptable.”
Sloane swallowed.
“I agree.”
I looked at her.
She saw me looking.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Daniel asked, “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sloane blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You agree it was unacceptable. Why?”
She looked at her father.
He didn't rescue her.
“Because I shouldn't have poured the drink on her.”
“Why?”
The room became uncomfortable.
Good.
Sloane's fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
“Because it was disrespectful.”
“To whom?”
“To Grace.”
Daniel nodded.
“And would it still be disrespectful if she weren't my wife?”
There it was.
The question I had wanted somebody to ask.
Sloane opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Daniel sat down.
I touched his wrist under the table.
He looked at me.
“Let me.”
He nodded.