Chapter 5 - The Price of Calling Me Family
Nobody moved.
Even the servers standing near the entrance seemed to sense that something important had changed.
Helena's fingers remained wrapped around the stem of her wineglass.
Logan stared at the folder.
Sienna lowered her eyes.
I could feel thirty-eight women waiting for someone to explain what they were witnessing.
I decided not to give them the satisfaction of a public spectacle that might hurt my business.
"Logan," I said quietly.
"Would you join me in my office?"
He blinked.
"What?"
"Now."
Helena laughed sharply.
"Absolutely not. Whatever this is, it can wait."
I turned toward her.
"Your bill cannot."
Her face hardened.
"How dare you."
I slid the check presenter back in front of her.
"You have several payment options. Grant will be happy to help."
Then I addressed the table.
"Ladies, I hope you've enjoyed your meal. Thank you for dining with us."
Denise raised her hand.
"Camille?"
"Yes?"
"Did Helena really sign for the entire party?"
"She did."
Denise looked toward Helena.
"Then why aren't you paying?"
Helena's mouth fell open.
"Denise!"
"I'm asking a reasonable question."
"You're supposed to be my friend."
"I am."
Denise spoke calmly.
"But you invited us here, told us lunch was your treat, and repeatedly insisted we order anything we wanted."
Several women nodded.
"That's true," one said.
"You specifically told me not to look at the prices," another added.
Helena turned crimson.
"This is a misunderstanding."
I didn't argue.
I looked at Grant, who was standing discreetly near the doorway.
"Please make yourself available whenever Mrs. Mercer is ready."
He nodded.
"Certainly."
Then I turned back to Logan.
"My office."
He followed me.
Sienna started to move with him.
I stopped.
"This conversation is between my husband and me."
Sienna frowned.
"Logan and I are business partners."
"Then you should have business to discuss elsewhere."
Her cheeks colored.
Logan touched her arm.
"Stay here."
That gesture told me everything.
It was automatic.
Intimate.
Protective.
He hadn't even realized he was doing it.
We walked down the corridor without speaking.
Once inside my office, I closed the door.
Logan turned on me immediately.
"What the hell was that?"
I sat behind my desk.
"You tell me."
"You humiliated my mother in front of everyone!"
"Your mother ordered a meal and received a bill."
"Twenty-three thousand dollars!"
"Twenty-three thousand, two hundred eighty-nine."
He dragged a hand through his hair.
"Jesus, Camille."
"Is there a problem with the amount?"
"You're missing the point."
"Then explain it."
He leaned toward me.
"You made us look like criminals."
I stared at him.
Interesting choice of word.
"I didn't accuse anyone of a crime."
"You practically did."
"By showing you a document?"
His eyes went to the black folder.
"Where did you get that?"
"Nora."
His expression shifted.
"Nora Whitfield?"
"Yes."
"Why is she involved?"
"She's reviewing Lumina's finances."
"Since when?"
"Three months ago."
He stared at me.
Then he laughed.
It sounded forced.
"Unbelievable."
I waited.
"You hired someone to investigate me?"
"I hired someone to investigate unexplained transactions."
"You should have talked to me."
"I did."
"When?"
"May ninth. May twenty-third. June fourth. June seventeenth."
He went silent.
I continued.
"Every time I asked about a suspicious expense, you told me not to worry."
His jaw worked.
"Because there was nothing to worry about."
"Then explain the Key Biscayne hotel."
"Client meeting."
"The Nassau trip."
"Business."
"The jewelry."
"Marketing."
I leaned forward.
"The necklace Sienna is wearing."
He froze.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he gave a short laugh.
"You're jealous."
I couldn't help it.
I laughed too.
"Jealous?"
"You've been distant for months."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"You barely come home. You're obsessed with this place."
"Because it pays our bills."
"I have a career."
"Then why is Lumina paying for your vacations?"
His face darkened.
"Watch your tone."
I stood.
"No, Logan. You watch yours."
He seemed genuinely surprised.
For years, when he raised his voice, I'd tried to calm him.
When he accused me of neglecting him, I'd apologized.
When he minimized something important, I'd explained myself more gently.
He was accustomed to a wife who believed every conflict could be solved if she was patient enough.
That wife had run out of patience.
"Did you use Lumina's money to buy Sienna that necklace?"
He didn't answer.
"Did you?"
"Camille."
"Yes or no."
His silence was answer enough.
I felt the final threads of our marriage beginning to break.
But I wasn't ready to let emotion derail the confrontation.
"Now explain this ownership agreement."
I opened the folder.
He looked at it and exhaled.
"It's a restructuring plan."
"Who authorized it?"
"We've been discussing it."
"With whom?"
"Mom. Some investors."
"Not with me."
"We were going to."
"After you decided how much of my company each of you deserved?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Don't make it sound sinister."
"Then make it sound innocent."
He sat down heavily.
"Look, Lumina has enormous potential."
"It already has enormous value."
"And it could be bigger."
"With Helena owning twenty-five percent?"
"Mom has connections."
"Name three hospitality projects she's successfully managed."
He said nothing.
"Name one."
"You're being hostile."
"I'm asking a business question."
His face tightened.
"Fine. You want the truth?"
"Desperately."
"You're a great chef, Camille."
He paused.
"But you're terrible at understanding what it takes to build a real brand."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"You think because you can cook, you can run everything."
"I've run Lumina for eight years."
"With help."
"From my employees."
"From me."
I shook my head.
"You didn't invest in Lumina."
"I invested in you."
I went still.
He smiled as if he'd finally found the winning argument.
"I supported you when nobody believed this would work."
For a moment, I remembered the early years.
Logan bringing coffee to the construction site.
Logan helping me carry boxes.
Logan telling me I was talented.
Those memories were real.
So was the money missing from my accounts.
"Emotional support doesn't entitle you to steal from a business," I said.
His expression hardened.
"Be careful with that word."
"Which one?"
"Steal."
I held his gaze.
"Then give me another word for taking company funds without authorization."
He stood abruptly.
"You have no idea how business works."
I reached for a second folder.
"Then perhaps you can explain Blue Harbor Hospitality Consulting."
His face drained.
I placed the corporate filing on my desk.
"Your mother's company."
He stared.
I continued.
"It received payments from Lumina."
"Those were legitimate consulting fees."
"For what services?"
"Marketing."
"Show me the campaigns."
He said nothing.
"Show me the deliverables."
"Camille, I—"
"Show me a single report, invoice backup, vendor agreement, or completed project."
He looked toward the door.
For the first time, he appeared to understand that charm wasn't going to save him.
I lowered my voice.
"How much did Helena know?"
He stared at me.
"About what?"
"Your affair. The transfers. The restructuring."
"Don't bring my mother into this."
"She brought herself into it."
His face twisted.
"You think you're so clever."
"No."
I looked at the records.
"I think I was trusting."
Something flickered in his eyes.
Shame, perhaps.
Or anger that I had finally noticed.
He stepped closer to the desk.
"Listen to me carefully."
I didn't move.
"Those documents are preliminary."
"Then they should be easy to explain."
"And if you keep making accusations, you could destroy this entire business."
I felt my pulse quicken.
There it was.
The threat hidden beneath years of affectionate words.
I asked, "Are you threatening Lumina?"
He laughed bitterly.
"I'm telling you that restaurants go under all the time."
I met his eyes.
"Not when the owner pays attention."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said something I would remember for the rest of my life.
"You have no idea what your restaurant is about to lose."
Before I could answer, my office phone rang.
Grant.
I picked up.
"Yes?"
His voice was strained.
"Camille, you need to come back."
"What's happening?"
"Mrs. Mercer tried three different credit cards."
I closed my eyes.
"And?"
"All three were declined."
Logan looked away.
Grant continued.
"Now she's telling the guests that you agreed to cover the meal."
I stood.
"Did I?"
"No."
"Then the answer is simple."
But Grant wasn't finished.
"Camille, she just told them something else."
"What?"
He hesitated.
"She says she can prove that your restaurant belongs to Logan."
I looked across the desk.
May you like
My husband's face had gone pale.
And I knew Helena was about to make a mistake even bigger than ordering $23,289 worth of food.
