Chapter 1

My restaurant had been open three months. For all three of those months, my husband's childhood best friend had been bringing people in to eat.

Three hundred thousand dollars in tabs, and he'd never paid once.

The place was bleeding money every month. I finally couldn't hold it in and mentioned it to him, just once, asked him to settle the bill.

His answer, in front of the whole restaurant, was to slap me across the face. Twice.

"I only eat here because I'm doing your husband a favor. What gives an outsider like you the right to come asking me for money?"

My husband quietly turned his head and pretended not to see.

I didn't shout, didn't make a scene. I turned and walked out.

Three days later, he was getting engaged. He rounded up every relative from his side and the woman's side, booked out the entire restaurant, and gave me his orders.

"Today I'm throwing my engagement party here, and you're going to bring the most expensive liquor and the best dishes to every single table!"

I glanced at the transfer contract I'd just signed for the restaurant and gave a faint smile.

"Sure."

1

When those two slaps from Job James, my husband's best friend, landed on my face.

The noisy restaurant went silent in an instant.

Every eye in the room swung toward me.

Everyone except my husband, Clay Swanson, who quietly turned his head and pretended not to see.

I looked up at Job's vicious face, then at Clay playing deaf and dumb.

I didn't argue, didn't make a scene. I just walked out of the restaurant.

Behind me, Job was still cursing.

"I knew Clay before you even came along, and now you've got the nerve to come to me for money? You try asking me for money again, I'll slap you again."

I didn't look back.

Out on the street, the cold wind hit me, and the sting on my cheek came into sharper focus.

But inside, I was calmer than I'd ever been.

I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and made a call.

"Hello. I want to transfer ownership of a restaurant."

"I don't care how low the price is. I only have one condition."

Once I'd worked things out with the person on the line, I didn't go back to the restaurant.

I went straight home instead.

The moment I reached the door, I heard Job's aggrieved voice coming from inside.

"Clay, you really need to keep that wife of yours in line."

"You and me grew up thick as thieves. How does she have the face to hit up her own husband's best friend for money over one meal?"

Clay sighed, sounding a little helpless.

"She really was out of line on this one."

"But the restaurant is hers, she paid for it herself, so I can't come down on her too hard."

Job's voice rose at once.

"So what if she paid for it herself?"

"She's your wife. Her money is your money."

"Clay, I'm telling you, you can't spoil a woman like that. When it's time to lay hands on her, you lay hands on her. Look at how I hit her today. She didn't dare make a peep."

"You'd better set her straight later. Don't let some outsider wreck twenty-plus years of brotherhood between us."

Clay was quiet for two seconds, then muttered.

"I know."

The next second, I pushed open the door and walked in.

The two of them turned to look at me in unison, displeasure all over their faces.

I ignored them, went straight into the bedroom, pulled open the closet, and started packing.

Clay followed me in and shut the door behind him.

"What are you doing?"

I folded my coat and pushed it into the suitcase, calm.

"Packing. I'm moving out."

Clay's face darkened, and his tone turned impatient.

"Glenda Simmons, how long are you going to keep this up?"

"Job was wrong to hit you, fine, but you shouldn't have humiliated him in front of everyone either."

"He's my best friend. You expect me to get into a fight with him over you?"

"Can't you use some sense and fix that petty, nickel-and-diming streak of yours?"

My hands paused for a moment.

Then I looked up at him and said, mildly.

"Don't worry. I won't do it again."

With that, I folded the last piece of clothing, laid it in the suitcase, zipped it shut, and walked out of the house without looking back.

Behind me, Clay started to come after me, but Job stopped him, sure of himself.

"Clay, let her go."

"You can't coddle a woman. Running off is just her way of trying to get a grip on you. As long as you don't take the bait, she'll come crawling back in tears in a few days."

With Job's mockery ringing after me, I carried my suitcase into the elevator and went down.

Then I checked into a room near the restaurant.

Once I'd settled in, my phone rang.

It was a message.

After I read it, I smiled, satisfied.