“In an honest way.”
I fold my arms. “Or,” I say, warming to the argument now, “you were full, tired, and rushing, and my food paid the price.”
She opens her mouth, then stops, clearly recalculating. “I am very good at my job.”
“I’m sure you are,” I say. “But you can’t even remember if you ordered anything else.”
“I must have,” she insists. “I don’t go to a restaurant and eat one thing.”
“You did,” I say gently. “You have the receipt.”
She glares at me. “I refuse to believe that I ate only spaghetti and left.”
I keep my voice level, mostly out of self preservation. “Yet here we are. One dish. One sauce. And an article.”
Marie-Louise exhales, slow and deliberate. “Mr Philips does have a point.”
I blink. So does Chloe.
“You can’t reasonably review a restaurant on a single plate,” Marie-Louise continues. “Particularly not when the piece focuses so narrowly on one element.”
Chloe opens her mouth. “I—”
Marie-Louise holds up a hand. “I’m not questioning your integrity. I’m questioning the balance.”
I feel a small, dangerous flare of triumph. “Thank you.”
She turns to me. “We’ll run a retraction the day after tomorrow. Brief. Professional. No drama.”
Chloe stiffens. “A retraction?”
“And,” Marie-Louise adds, already moving on, “Chloe will return to La Cucina di Rosa. She’ll sample the full menu and write a proper feature. Not a short review. A considered piece.”
Chloe’s head snaps round. “I never write features!”
“This time you do.”
“I have a schedule.”
“You’ll adjust it.”
Marie-Louise smiles the way people do when the discussion is over. “I’ll leave you to sort out the details.”
And with that, she walks off, heels clicking decisively across the floor.
Chloe stares after her, then looks back at me. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“I haven’t even started enjoying it yet,” I say.
Beckett coughs. I glance over and catch him grinning openly now, arms folded, clearly settled in for the long haul.
“So,” Chloe says, folding her arms. “Congratulations. You’ve won a rematch.”
“I don’t want a rematch,” I say. “I want a fair fight.”
She snorts. “You chefs are dramatic.”
“You critics are ruthless.”
