“Depends.”
“Who printed the Takamori agreement last week?”
Daniel stared at her.
“How do you know about that?”
“I saw it.”
He lowered his voice.
“Monique.”
“I didn't read it.”
“Good.”
“But I need to know if there was a revised copy printed today.”
Daniel hesitated.
“I don't know.”
“Can you check?”
“Why?”
She looked at him.
“Because I think they're about to sign a contract that one side hasn't approved.”
Daniel's expression changed.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“Then don't interfere.”
“I won't.”
She picked up another tray.
“But if I'm right, someone should know.”
Daniel studied her.
Finally, he nodded.
“I'll check.”
Monique returned to the dining room.
Whitfield was laughing.
“You know what I like about these negotiations?”
Nakamura looked at him.
“What?”
“No surprises.”
Monique almost stopped walking.
She continued.
Whitfield raised his glass.
“Everything is settled.”
Nakamura looked at him.
“Is it?”
Whitfield smiled.
“Absolutely.”
Monique placed fresh coffee on the table.
Then Nakamura spoke.
In English this time.
“Mr. Whitfield, may we review the final document tonight?”
Whitfield’s smile faded slightly.
“Why?”
“We want to ensure there are no misunderstandings.”
“There won't be.”
“We would still like to see it.”
Whitfield glanced toward Tanaka.
“The lawyers already handled that.”
Tanaka replied.
“Our lawyers have questions.”
Whitfield leaned back.
“They can handle them tomorrow.”
Nakamura shook his head.
“No.”
The room went quiet.
Whitfield stared at him.
“No?”
“We will not sign tomorrow morning unless the final document is reviewed tonight.”
Whitfield's jaw tightened.
“Kenji, we've been negotiating for eleven months.”
“Yes.”
“And now you're delaying?”
“We are verifying.”
“You've already verified.”
“No.”
Nakamura's voice remained calm.
“We have not.”
Whitfield's eyes narrowed.
“What's changed?”
Nakamura looked directly at him.
“Your version.”
Whitfield said nothing.
The silence lasted several seconds.
Then he laughed.
“You've been talking to your lawyers.”
“Yes.”
“They're being overly cautious.”
“Perhaps.”
Whitfield lifted his bourbon.
“You're letting them complicate a straightforward transaction.”
Nakamura didn't respond.
Monique stood at the edge of the room.
She watched.
Then Whitfield looked at her.
“You.”
Monique stopped.
“Sir?”
“Bring the check.”
She nodded.
“Of course.”
He looked back at Nakamura.
“Dinner's over.”
Nakamura slowly stood.
“Perhaps.”
Whitfield frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Nakamura did not answer.
He looked at Monique.
Then said something quietly in Japanese.
Monique understood every word.
“Please don't say anything yet.”
She gave the smallest nod.
Whitfield noticed.
“What did he say?”
Monique looked at him.
“I'm sorry?”
“You two just exchanged something.”
Nakamura answered before she could.
“I thanked her for the service.”
Whitfield stared.
Then shrugged.
“Fine.”
Monique walked toward the door.
Behind her, Tanaka whispered something.
She heard it.
“So it is happening.”
Monique stopped.
She turned.
“Mr. Tanaka?”
The entire table looked at her.
Tanaka hesitated.
Then Nakamura spoke.
“Monique, do you understand Japanese?”
Whitfield laughed.
“She already told us she speaks a little.”
Nakamura looked at Monique.
“Do you?”
Monique took a breath.
“Yes.”
“How well?”
She glanced toward Whitfield.
Then back to Nakamura.
“Fluently.”
The room froze.
Whitfield stared.
“You said a little.”
Monique shook her head.
“I said enough to order dinner.”
Yuki Sato smiled.
“That was clever.”
Whitfield looked irritated.
“What exactly is going on?”
Monique remained silent.
Nakamura answered.
“We have concerns about the acquisition agreement.”
Whitfield stood.
“That's between us.”
“Yes.”
“And not the restaurant.”
“Correct.”
“Then why is my server involved?”
Nakamura looked at Monique.
“She is involved because she understands what we are saying.”
Whitfield looked at her.
Then laughed.
“You've been listening.”
Monique said nothing.
“Have you?”
She remained silent.
Whitfield stepped closer.
“Answer me.”
Nakamura stood.
“Douglas.”
Whitfield ignored him.
“You've been listening to our private conversation?”
Monique finally spoke.
“I've been doing my job.”
“Which is?”
“Taking care of the table.”
“And listening?”
She looked directly at him.
“I hear what guests say.”
Whitfield laughed.
“This is unbelievable.”
Monique remained calm.
“I agree.”
Nakamura almost smiled.
Whitfield turned toward him.
“You're encouraging this?”
“No.”
“Then tell her to leave.”
Nakamura shook his head.
“No.”
Whitfield's face hardened.
“Why?”
“Because she may have just noticed something your lawyers did not.”
The room fell silent.
Whitfield stared at Nakamura.
“What?”
Nakamura looked at Monique.
“What did you notice?”
Monique hesitated.
This was the moment.
She could stay silent.
She could protect her job.
She could let lawyers deal with it tomorrow.
Or she could speak.
She remembered her brother.
The bills.
The nights she had worked two shifts.
The people who had once told her she was too young to understand international finance.
She remembered how often powerful people assumed quiet meant ignorant.
Then she looked at the folder beside Tanaka.
“May I ask one question?”
Nakamura nodded.
Monique turned toward Whitfield.
“Did your legal team change Section 14?”
Whitfield's face went blank.
Tanaka looked up sharply.
Nakamura's eyes narrowed.
“What about Section 14?” he asked.
Monique continued.
“The intellectual property transfer clause.”
Nobody moved.
Whitfield stared at her.
“How do you know about Section 14?”
Monique answered quietly.
“I read contracts.”
The Woman They Thought Was Invisible
Douglas Whitfield stared at Monique Carter as though she had suddenly spoken another language.
Perhaps, in a sense, she had.
He looked toward Nakamura.
Then Tanaka.
Then back at Monique.
“You read contracts?”
“Yes.”
“You're a waitress.”
“Yes.”
The answer irritated him.
“That wasn't the question.”
“It was part of the question.”