The Alpha's gaze remained fixed on the blond's approaching figure, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Yves, ever the master of maintaining a facade, greeted Clyde with a seemingly polite tone, "Good morning, Mr. Clyde."
He smoothly proceeded to pull out the furthest chair, positioning himself directly opposite Clyde, and calmly took his seat.
The words carried a subtle undertone of sarcasm, injecting a dose of intrigue and tension into the atmosphere.
"Thank you for allowing me to join your table," Yves added, his tone betraying a mockery of fake politeness.
The deliberate choice of words and the composed demeanor clashed with the charged atmosphere, leaving an impression of calculated defiance.
Their sharp gazes locked onto each other for a few riveting moments before Clyde released a faint scoff, breaking the tension.
"I can't wait to taste your cooking again," he said, the words carrying a subtle challenge beneath the surface.
