Chapter 1

1: 1

I'd barely gotten off a voyage across the Pacific when my mother strong-armed me into a blind date.

The guy was tall, rich, and handsome, and more to the point his family did business with mine, so I figured I'd give it a shot and said yes.

But I'd only just sat down when the buddy he'd brought along pinched his nose and started fanning the air like his life depended on it.

"Where's that reek of dead fish and rotten shrimp coming from? Absolutely revolting."

"There's no end to these gold-diggers these days. Now even fishmongers think they can show up to a blind date?"

I glanced at the water stains on my cuffs and explained, keeping my patience.

"I'm sorry. My family's in the seafood business, so the smell tends to cling to me."

My date rolled his eyes, his whole face full of disgust.

"Seafood business? Nice way to dress it up. You're still just a stinking fish peddler."

"And do you even know whose restaurant this is? You've got the nerve to come on a date with me?"

I looked at that arrogant, chin-up sneer of his and let out a cold laugh.

"Mr. Swanson, have you ever heard of bluefin tuna?"

...

The words were barely out when, before Drew Swanson could say anything, his buddy Earl Perry rolled his eyes hard.

"Bluefin tuna? Let me guess, your next line is that this fancy stuff is what you sell?"

"You catch a few buzzwords on some short video and suddenly you're the queen of the deep sea? Don't make me laugh."

Drew couldn't even be bothered to look at me straight. He pulled his phone out of his pocket

and, taking his sweet time, checked his reflection in the screen and smoothed his hair.

"I might as well tell you. Tonight my restaurant is hosting the first high-society tuna feast in Harborview."

He locked the screen and tipped his chin up high.

"The centerpiece is a three-hundred-pound top-grade bluefin. The cost alone runs over four million."

"In all of Harborview, only my family is qualified to throw a banquet like this. Everyone showing up is a somebody."

"A dirt-poor little nobody at the bottom like you, even getting one whiff of that fish would be aiming way above your station."

Watching him gloat, I shook my head and picked up my teacup, taking a sip.

He probably couldn't have dreamed it in a thousand years. That prize centerpiece he was so proud of was hauled up by my family's fleet.

As long as I didn't give the nod, that fish wouldn't make it into his kitchen even if it went off.

I leaned back a little, my tone turning amused.

"Mr. Swanson, actually, that fish tonight... might not be quite what you're imagining."

"Ugh, I can't take it anymore."

Earl shot to his feet, walked to the wall, and slammed his hand down on the exhaust fan switch.

"God, this room is nothing but dead-fish stink. I'm about to gag."

"Drew, was your matchmaker blind? Dragging every stray cat and dog in front of you."

Drew swept a cold glance over me.

"Stinking fish peddler, is bragging all you can do? Go take a piss and look at your own reflection first."

I didn't make a sound. I just slowly ran my thumb along the rim of the cup.

I was already here. Half an hour of biting my tongue, and I'd have paid off my debt to my mother.

Then, out of nowhere, Earl grabbed the glass of ice water with lemon off the table.

He dumped the whole thing over the legs of my pants and the tops of my shoes.

The cold soaked straight through my socks, and my whole pant leg was drenched, plastered to my skin.

"Just helping you kill that fishy smell. On the house, no need to thank me."

Earl flicked the leftover drops off his fingertips and stepped back with a snicker.

"So you don't walk out of here polluting the air and grossing everybody out."

I didn't blow up on the spot. I just pulled out a tissue, dabbed at it, and lifted my eyes to stare at them.

Drew was infuriated by that look.

The way he saw it, a fish vendor like me daring to look at him like that was an outrage of the highest order.

He smacked the table and stood, then hollered out the door.

"What are you looking at? Given you an inch and now you're glaring at me? Audrey Finch, get in here!"

The door opened at once, and a middle-aged woman in a black work suit hurried in, bent low at the waist.

"Mr. Swanson, what can I do for you?"

Drew pointed at the chair I was sitting in, his face full of loathing.

"The chair she's sitting in stinks now. Get housekeeping and have this chair thrown out."

Audrey glanced at me, the smug superiority of someone borrowing her masters' power written all over her face.

She pulled a big bottle of air freshener out of a storage cabinet, turned, and came toward me.

"Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry, but this chair needs to be dealt with."

"Also, so as not to spoil Mr. Swanson's dining experience, I'll need to give you a quick disinfecting."