Chapter 17 We’ve agreed to meet in a café called Fabian’s in Holland Park, a small, cozy place with terra-cotta painted walls and prints of Tuscany and shelves full of Italian books. As I walk in and look around at the granite bar, the coffee machine, the battered sofa…I have the weirdest feeling—like I’ve been there before. Maybe I’m just having déjà vu. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Jon is already sitting at a table in the corner, and as he looks up I feel my guard rising. Against all my better instincts, after all my protests, here I am, meeting him illicitly. Just like he wanted all along. I feel like I’m falling into some kind of trap…but I don’t know what the trap is. Anyway, I’m meeting him for business reasons. As long as I remember that, I’ll be fine. “Hi.” I join him at the table, where he’s drinking coffee, and drop my briefcase on an adjoining chair. “So. We’re both busy people. Let’s talk about this deal.” Jon is just staring at me, as though trying to work something out.
