Mr. Shu listened carefully. Then he pushed his chair back and stood. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card, but he didn't hand it over casually. He held it with both hands, the traditional Chinese gesture of respect, and extended it toward Whitney.
"Miss Sawyer, my firm employs over 200 bilingual consultants in Shanghai. Not one of them translates with your instinct." He held her gaze. "I'd like to offer you a position on my cross-cultural advisory team, starting immediately."
The table went still. Gerald's face drained of color like someone pulled a plug. Lillian covered her mouth with her hand. Raymond Cross leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.
The two associates at the end of the table looked at each other with wide eyes. And Whitney, for the first time all night, lost her composure. Just for a second, just enough to notice. Her eyes glistened.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She blinked twice fast and looked down at the business card in Mr. Shu's hands. This wasn't part of the plan.
She didn't come back to this table looking for a career. She came back because a man told her she couldn't speak. That was it. That was the whole reason.
And now a man who ran a global firm was standing in front of her offering to change her life. She took the card. Both hands. A slight bow of her head, a cultural gesture so natural that Mr. Shu noticed it immediately.
His expression softened. The kind of softening that happens when someone surprises you, not with what they know, but with who they are.
"Mr. Shu, I'm honored." Her voice was steady, but her hands weren't. She was gripping the edge of her notepad so hard her knuckles paled. "Can I... can I have a moment to think about that?"
Mr. Shu smiled. Not a business smile. A real one. "Take your time. But not too long."
Gerald stared at the table. His jaw was working back and forth, grinding on something he couldn't swallow.
His waitress. The woman he'd told to shoo. The woman whose mother he'd insulted. She just got offered a job at the table he was paying for, by the man he'd spent 6 months trying to impress.
And the question that hung in the air was louder than anything anyone had said all night. Would she take it? What about her graduate school dream? And what about that $100,000 bet that still hadn't been settled?