Dots danced before my vision. A familiar knot coiled around my chest, and I had to force in several deep breaths to loosen its hold.
Don’t forget what happened the last time you insisted on running a kitchen.
With one cleverly aimed reminder, my father had torn off the Band-Aid and dragged my ugly, festering insecurities back to the surface.
I hated how easily he manipulated me. I saw it for what it was, but a small part of me wondered if he was right, and if my return to the kitchen would be a disaster waiting to happen.
I couldn’t even perfect fucking scallops, for Christ’s sake. But I could whip together a marketing plan in my sleep, even if doing so inspired about as much excitement as a root canal.
If I really wanted, I could ignore my father and strike out on my own, my inheritance be damned. I had no doubt he’d cut me off if I went against his wishes. But at the end of the day, I was still a Laurent, and I held a deeply ingrained loyalty to my family, if not to my father himself. Besides, that big a rift would destroy my mother, who was fragile enough after my aunt died. I refused to cause her any more distress.
I sucked in another lungful of air until the dots disappeared from my vision. The conflicting voices in my head retreated, and not for the first time, I ignored the restlessness stirring inside me.
I’d worry about the future later.
For now, I just needed to get through the day.
You’re late.
The Post-it note was affixed to the table in front of my seat when I arrived to my meeting with Maya later that afternoon.
We’d exchanged increasingly heated emails over the weekend regarding our weekly meeting spot until we’d agreed on neutral territory—the library at the ultra-exclusive Valhalla Club, where we were both members.
I’d cleared my head during the long, brisk walk to Valhalla, and I felt close to myself again as I took the seat opposite Maya’s. I didn’t touch the note.
“You’re early.” I tapped the face of my watch. “It’s three o’clock on the dot.”
“When you’re on time, you’re late.” She pushed a manila folder across the table. She was dressed in what I secretly called her get-shit-done outfit—crisp white shirt, diamond studs, and her lucky gold elephant pendant. Her hair draped over one shoulder in a thick, glossy braid.
Some things never changed.
I yawned. “Sorry, not everyone lives by your personal rules, Sal.”
She leveled me with a cool look. “Is this how you want to kick off our partnership? Because trust me, I’d be happy to argue with you all day long, but we’ll bemuchmore efficient if we actually work together. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”
My eyebrows winged up. I assessed her, trying to gauge whether she was sincere or fucking with me.
I’d come prepared for war, and she was initiating a quasi-truce? Her apology was one thing. Her (albeit reluctant) willingness to work together without saying something snarky first was another.
Then again, the passive-aggressive Post-it note was classic Maya Singh, so maybe she hadn’t gotten a personality transplant. Perhaps she’d hit her head so hard her personality had split in two, and she was now forced to switch back and forth between them like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
“You’re right,” I said. “Let’s get this done.”
“Thank you.” Maya gave me a sweet smile, and I had the sense that I’d somehow lost a battle I hadn’t known was being fought. “Our first task is the announcement plan. We have to nail the messaging from the start, or we’re fucked.”
“Language.”
“Fuck off.”
I laughed.Much better. Her niceness freaked me out.
Maya huffed out a sigh, but I swore her mouth twitched before she flattened it into a straight line. “Shh.You’ll get us kicked out.”
She tilted her head toward the librarian, who was indeed glaring at us from behind her desk. She was only here once a week since the Valhalla library operated more as a networking hub than an actual library, but judging by her scowl, you’d think I’d killed her cat instead of merely laughing.
“I’d like to see her try.” I smiled at the librarian. She didn’t smile back. “She’s what, eighty? I can take her.”
Maya shook her head. “Of course, you wouldn’t see anything wrong with tackling a nice old lady.”
