Chapter 2 - The Woman Wearing My Money
The first thing I noticed was the necklace.
It rested against the young woman's collarbone, glittering beneath the private dining room's pendant lights.
Three diamonds suspended from a delicate platinum chain.
I recognized the design immediately.
I'd seen the jeweler's invoice.
Eleven thousand six hundred dollars.
My husband had told me the expense was connected to a corporate client who needed a luxury gift for a closing celebration.
I had asked why Lumina was paying for a real estate client's present.
He'd laughed.
"Camille, it's a temporary reimbursement."
Apparently, the reimbursement had never been temporary.
And neither was the relationship.
The young woman standing beside Logan looked about twenty-eight.
She had glossy dark hair, an expensive cream-colored pantsuit, and the kind of carefully rehearsed confidence that came from believing everyone important had already approved of her.
Logan's hand rested against her lower back.
That small gesture hurt more than I expected.
Not because I still imagined my marriage was perfect.
I'd stopped believing that months ago.
It hurt because I remembered when he'd touched me that way.
Before the restaurant expanded.
Before his business slowed down.
Before I became the wife who was always working while he became the husband who was always waiting to be appreciated.
Helena spotted me first.
"There she is!"
Her voice rose over the conversation.
"Come over here, Camille."
Thirty-eight women turned toward me.
A few smiled.
Others looked openly curious.
Several had heard Helena's remarks about my marriage.
I could see it in their faces.
Logan turned.
For one brief second, genuine alarm flashed in his eyes.
Then he recovered.
"Hey, sweetheart."
Sweetheart.
He hadn't called me that in weeks.
"Didn't know you'd be working the floor today."
"I own the floor," I said.
Helena laughed loudly.
"Oh, don't be dramatic."
She beckoned the young woman forward.
"Camille, meet Sienna Brooks."
Sienna extended her hand.
"It's wonderful to finally meet you."
Finally.
An interesting choice of word.
I shook her hand.
"Likewise."
She smiled.
"Logan has told me so much about Lumina."
"I'm sure he has."
Her eyes flickered.
Logan cleared his throat.
"Sienna helps with some of my investment projects."
I looked at the necklace.
"Successful projects, apparently."
Sienna instinctively touched the diamonds.
"Oh, this?"
"Beautiful piece."
"Thank you."
She glanced at Logan.
"It was a gift."
"How thoughtful."
Helena watched the exchange with obvious pleasure.
There was something almost theatrical about it.
She wasn't merely introducing my husband's mistress.
She was showing me how little my feelings mattered.
And she was enjoying the audience.
"Camille, sweetheart," Helena said, "we need another bottle of the Bordeaux."
"Of course."
"And make sure Sienna gets something special."
I smiled.
"Everyone will receive exactly what they order."
Helena beamed.
"See? Isn't she wonderful?"
I turned toward the exit.
"Enjoy your afternoon."
Logan followed me into the corridor.
"Camille."
I kept walking.
He caught up near the service station.
"What was that about?"
"What was what about?"
"The attitude."
I stopped.
"You brought another woman into my restaurant while your mother is hosting a thirty-nine-person lunch on my account."
He gave a short, irritated laugh.
"First of all, Sienna is my colleague."
"Then your colleague has expensive taste."
"Don't start."
"Start what?"
"Whatever this is."
I studied him.
Logan Mercer had been handsome when I met him.
He still was.
Forty years old, tall, athletic, with carefully styled brown hair and the polished appearance of a man who knew exactly what to say at a cocktail party.
He had once used that charm to make me feel like the most important person in any room.
Now I recognized the trick.
He made everyone feel special until they wanted something inconvenient.
Then he made them feel unreasonable.
"Your mother didn't have a reservation," I said.
"She's bringing business."
"She's bringing thirty-eight guests."
"Exactly."
"At a restaurant that's already full."
"Then you should be grateful."
I stared at him.
He lowered his voice.
"Look, Mom is doing us a favor."
"Us?"
"Yes, us."
I nodded slowly.
"And who's paying?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Here we go again."
"Who is paying, Logan?"
"Can we not embarrass ourselves today?"
"Your mother says she's treating everyone."
"Then let her."
I watched his face.
"Are you telling me she's going to settle the bill?"
His expression hardened.
"I'm telling you to stop making everything about money."
Behind him, servers hurried past carrying hot plates.
A bartender appeared with a tray of champagne.
The restaurant was moving.
My people were working.
And my husband stood in the middle of it, telling me money didn't matter.
"You're right," I said.
He blinked.
"What?"
"Today shouldn't be about money."
His shoulders relaxed.
"Finally."
"It should be about honesty."
The relief vanished.
"Camille."
"Go enjoy lunch with your colleague."
He stepped closer.
"Don't do something stupid."
I looked directly into his eyes.
"That depends on what you consider stupid."
Then I walked away.
Back in the kitchen, Grant was waiting with his tablet.
"Current total is nineteen thousand eight hundred."
"Good."
He frowned.
"You're scaring me."
"Grant, how long have you known me?"
"Five years."
"Have I ever deliberately endangered this restaurant?"
"No."
"Then trust me for another two hours."
He lowered the tablet.
"All right."
I was about to return to my office when our head server, Tessa, approached.
Tessa was twenty-six and putting herself through graduate school.
She was one of the best employees I'd ever hired.
Today, her eyes were bright with anger.
"Camille, I need to report something."
"What happened?"
"Mrs. Mercer told me to remove the gratuity from the bill."
I looked up.
"She did what?"
"She said nobody should expect a tip because it's a family restaurant."
Grant muttered something under his breath.
Tessa continued.
"Then she told the other servers that if we gave her any attitude, she'd have you replace us."
My jaw tightened.
"Did anyone argue with her?"
"No."
"Good."
Tessa looked confused.
"Good?"
"You did exactly the right thing."
I put my hand lightly on her shoulder.
"Nobody in this building has to accept threats from my relatives."
Her eyes filled.
"Thank you."
"Also, every employee working that room is getting the full gratuity they're entitled to."
Grant straightened.
"Regardless of payment?"
"Regardless of payment."
"Camille, that's going to be expensive."
"I know."
Tessa gave me a grateful, uncertain smile and returned to work.
When she was gone, Grant looked at me.
"You're paying them yourself?"
"If necessary."
He nodded slowly.
Then he said something that made my throat tighten.
"This place was here before Helena started treating it like her clubhouse."
"Yes."
"And it'll still be here after she stops."
I looked around the kitchen.
At the cooks.
The servers.
The dishwashers.
The food runners.
People who depended on me to make responsible decisions.
"I intend to make sure of that."
My phone vibrated.
A message from Nora.
Parking now. One more thing: Logan has been communicating with your landlord directly. I have copies.
I started toward the office.
Then a second message arrived.
Please don't sign anything your husband brings you today.
I stopped walking.
Because suddenly I remembered the leather portfolio Logan had carried into the dining room.
May you like
He almost never brought paperwork to lunch.
And I had a terrible feeling I knew what was inside.
