"Yes." the lady said.
"Did you tell them I’m busy?"
"I did."
Naomi sighed heavily and glanced around the kitchen. Everything was under control for the moment. She wiped her hands. "Just great." She yanked off her apron and slammed it onto the kitchen island before storming toward the door.
Then stopped right before opening it. She could not march into the dining room looking like she was prepared to stab someone.
Naomi inhaled and exhaled, rolled her shoulders back. Then plastered on the most convincing customer-service smile she could manage.
You would never know she wanted to scream into a freezer.
She pushed the door open. The dim lights of the restaurant hit her all at once, replacing the bright, harsh kitchen lighting.
Muted conversations floated through the dining room. Low music played from hidden speakers. The kitchen helper appeared beside her and led the way.
As they walked between tables, she mentally prepared herself.
Say thank you.
Return to kitchen.
The helper pointed to one of the tables. Naomi’s gaze lifted. The manager of the restaurant was standing there.
Was the customer complaining about something? Her heart started thudding. God, please, no. She needed this job.
She truly needed this job.
Whatever rich customer had decided to insist on seeing her, please let it be because the salmon was wonderful or the dessert changed his life.
Just not a complaint.
Naomi approached carefully. "Mr. Vale?"
Her boss turned toward her. "Miss Bennett, Mr. Sterling here says he is your fiancé..."
"My... my what?" Her gaze dropped to the man seated at the table.
He looked expensive. Everything about him seemed chosen to be noticed. Even the way he sat suggested that chairs should be grateful to have him.
Mr. Vale frowned. "I thought you were already married. We saw it on the news."
Of course they had. Everyone had seen it on the news.
"A temporary arrangement, I assure you, Mr. Vale," the man said smoothly.
Naomi’s head snapped toward him. Mr. Vale looked unconvinced but continued anyway.
"Mr. Sterling says he would like you resigned from your position effective immediately."
Naomi genuinely did not understand the sentence. "What?! No! No!" She lowered her volume, but not her panic. She turned sharply toward the man. "What are you—"
Then she caught herself.
Public dining room.
Naomi turned back to Mr. Vale. "Please, would you give us a minute?"
Mr. Vale looked between them. He clearly wanted no part of whatever disaster this was. He gave a small shrug and walked away.
Naomi waited until he was out of earshot. Then she descended on the man. "Who the hell are you?"
"I assure you, I am not the kind of man you want to speak to in that tone."
Naomi inhaled and forced herself to calm down before straightening. "Fine."
"Every time I have tried to see you, you are always at work. I have been to your rundown apartment building over three times now."
Her mouth tightened.
Rundown.
Lovely.
First the internet called her cheap-looking. Now this man insulted her apartment. She was collecting humiliation like points.
"If you, my bride-to-be, do not have the time for me because of a..." He paused. "Job." He said job the way some people said infection. His gaze skimmed over her uniform.
Naomi immediately disliked the way he looked at it because he clearly thought she should be embarrassed by it.
"Then it is my duty to make sure you are available."
What century had she wandered into?
He continued as though he had just said something perfectly reasonable. "Go clear out your desk or whatever it is you have here and meet me outside."
She worked in a kitchen. Did he think chefs sat behind desks balancing spreadsheets between entrées?
Another arrogant man. Apparently there had been a sale.
She already had one legal husband who believed money gave him the right to rearrange her life. Now she had a fiancé she had never met doing the same thing.
Maybe she needed to stop attracting men with control issues. Technically, she had not attracted this one.
"Okay... I hear you, Mr?"
"Callum. Call me Callum," he said.
Naomi nodded slowly. "Alright, Callum... I deduced from what you have just said that you are to be my husband. I guess..." She gave a small, nervous laugh. "Strange way of meeting, is it not?"
Callum stared at her. Naomi’s laugh died an awkward death. She immediately schooled her face back into seriousness.
"I need this job."
Callum glanced around the restaurant. "Would you take a seat? I don’t appreciate you standing over me."
She cleared her throat. "Right." Naomi pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down then folded her hands on the table. "I need this job," she repeated. "As you may know, money is the reason I am marrying you in the first place."
"Yes. That was made quite clear to me with the way Mr. Whitmore was buttering my father up about you. And then," Callum continued, "I find out you married Dorian Heathcliffe."
"Yes, uhm... that is a misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding I hope is in the process of being cleared up."
Naomi nodded quickly. "It is." She tried to continue. "The thing is—"
"How long will it take?"
Every time she tried to explain anything, Callum cut across her like whatever he had to say was automatically more important.
It was beginning to grate on her nerves. Naomi pressed her lips together. Would the man just let her finish a sentence?
Dorian was rude, yes, but at least when he interrupted her, it was usually because she had been talking for a bit.
This was different. Callum did not seem impatient with her talking. He seemed impatient with her having anything to say at all.
Naomi drew in a breath. "Uhm... that’s the other thing. Mr. Heathcliffe is intent on fighting the divorce."
That got his attention. Callum’s eyes narrowed.
"Everything should be cleared up very soon."