Chapter 2

Linda hangs up and looks at me like I’m ridiculous.

“You don’t even know who Ryan Parker is?”

Her friends laugh.

One of them looks me up and down.

“She works the front door and thinks she gets to question the owner’s family?”

Emma’s face turns pale beside me.

She tugs lightly at my sleeve.

“Claire, please,” she whispers. “Just let this go.”

I look at her.

“She tried to walk out on a nearly $1,000 check and hit me.”

“I know.” Emma lowers her voice even more. “But Ms. Parker comes here all the time. The manager always comps her table.”

That only makes it worse.

Before I can answer, a man in a dark suit hurries over from the dining room.

His name tag reads GREG MILLER.

“What the hell is going on out here?”

He sounds angry until he sees Linda.

Then his whole expression changes.

“Ms. Parker?”

Linda immediately puts on an injured look.

“Greg, thank God you’re here.”

She points at me.

“This new girl refused to let me leave, grabbed me, and made a scene in front of everyone.”

Greg looks at me.

Then at the unpaid check.

He does not ask a single question.

Instead, he turns back to Linda.

“I’m sorry. This should never have happened.”

Emma steps forward.

“Greg, that’s not what happened.”

His face hardens.

“She only asked them to pay the check,” Emma says. “And Ms. Parker hit her first.”

Greg’s eyes snap to her.

“Clock out.”

Emma freezes.

“What?”

“You heard me. Clock out.”

He points toward the staff hallway.

“And you’re off Friday and Saturday nights until I say otherwise.”

Emma goes still.

Friday and Saturday dinners are her best tipping shifts.

Linda smiles.

“Good. Maybe losing a few hundred dollars will teach her some manners.”

Emma says nothing.

Greg turns to me.

“And you.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“You’re new. You don’t decide how VIP guests are handled.”

“VIP doesn’t mean free.”

His jaw tightens.

“Apologize to Ms. Parker.”

“No.”

Linda lets out a short laugh.

Greg stares at me for a second.

Then he points toward the back.

“Fine. Clock out too.”

I do not move.

“You’re done here,” he says. “Don’t bother coming back tomorrow.”

I take out my phone.

Greg looks almost offended.

“What are you doing?”

I call my father.

He picks up after the second ring.

“Claire?”

“Dad, I need you at Whitmore Prime.”

His voice sharpens.

“What happened?”

“The manager just fired me for asking a customer to pay.”

There is a brief silence.

“I’m on my way.”

I hang up.

Greg stares at me.

Then he laughs.

“Calling Daddy isn’t going to save your job.”

I slip my phone back into my pocket.

“We’ll see.”

A few minutes later, the front door opens.

Linda immediately straightens.

“Ryan!”

A young man in an expensive coat walks toward us, his expression dark.

His eyes move from his mother to Greg.

Then to me.

He does not recognize me at all.

“Which hostess put her hands on my mother?”

I look at the stranger standing in front of me.

My supposed fiancé looks straight at me—and has no idea who I am.