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The Italian restaurant Liam chose was tucked away on a side street. The sign was discreet, but the moment you opened the door, the rich aroma of tomatoes and basil hit you.
A waiter led us to a corner booth where a bottle of mineral water and crystal glasses were already waiting.
“You booked ahead?” I asked, sitting down.
“Yesterday,” Liam said, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “I knew you were going to win this morning’s meeting. We needed to celebrate.”
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