"I'm, I'm. I wasn't sick yesterday. I lied." Jen's voice was tight with guilt. "I got a job offer from Elevate Events. I start on Monday. I'm so sorry, Nadia, but it's too good to turn down."
Nadia went very still. "Three years, Jen. And you couldn't give me the truth?"
"I was scared you'd be angry. I need this, Nadia. Fifty percent more than you're paying?—"
"I understand. Thank you for letting me know." Nadia hung up, her movements measured, when I suspected all she wanted to do was throw her phone at the wall.
For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. Damn it. You’d think after being inside for three years I could tell when someone was faking throwing up.
"They're dismantling my business piece by piece. Taking my staff. Spreading rumors. Pressuring suppliers." She turned to face me. "And I'm supposed to let them?"
"No. But we need evidence. A pattern."
"I don't want evidence. I want to walk into their office and tell them exactly what I think. Preferably armed with a meat tenderizer."
"And then what? They deny everything, and you get done for assault." I caught her arm. "This is what they want. Don't give them that."
"So I smile and take it?"
"No. You let me help." I pulled out my phone. "Malakai has been digging into Elevate. He hinted that he might have found something, but it was early days. I'll call him, arrange for us to meet later today, figure out what we've got, and plan our next move."
She stared at me. Then nodded once, sharply. "Okay. Call him."
By the time we'd showered, Malakai had called back and left a message. Sunday afternoon at his old place. Us, Malakai, Chase, and Cole, if he was available.
But first, I needed to deal with the woman pacing back and forth across my small space like a caged tiger.
"They went to the media late on Friday to announce they're opening a local office," Nadia said, scrolling on her phone. "I was so busy getting ready for the Peterson event that I missed it."
She held her phone up and read like a radio DJ. "Elevate Events is thrilled to announce they're expanding their presence in Northern California. As well as offering new clients introductory discounts, they'll bring a wealth of experience in events and large-scale catering."
The urge to punch the wall was almost overwhelming. The only thing that stopped me was the thought of working with a broken hand and Sofia's distress at the sight of it. "Which means they're not going anywhere."
"Which means this is only the beginning." She threw her phone onto the loveseat. "They'll keep coming until I sell or collapse."
"Then we make sure you don't collapse." I moved behind her, hands on her shoulders. "You did something incredible yesterday. Flawless event. Potential new client."
"None of that matters if people think I'm going to poison them."
"So we'll prove them wrong. Document everything. Pass inspections. Build a reputation that their rumors can't touch." I turned her around. "But first, you breathe."
"I don't want to breathe. I want to fight."
"I know." I pulled her close. "But you're exhausted and angry. That's when mistakes happen."
"I don't make mistakes."
"Everyone does when they're pissed off and running on empty." I kissed her forehead. "Let's get out of here and clear the cobwebs. It's a beautiful day. How about a walk along the boardwalk?"
For a second, I thought she'd throw my suggestion back in my face, but eventually she huffed in defeat. "I hate that you're right."
"Get used to it."
That got a small smile. "You're impossible."
"And you're stubborn. Perfect match."
The boardwalk was doing its weekend best, families and dogs and the smell of fried food, and for an hour it worked. She talked through the Sofia partnership while we walked, building it out loud the way she did, testing ideas by saying them and watching which ones held weight.
