Chapter 3 - The Missing Tips
Rafael closed his office door.
Bernadette remained standing.
“Sit.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“That bad?”
“Yes.”
Rafael placed his phone face down.
“Tell me everything.”
Bernadette hesitated.
Then she spoke.
“Celeste has been taking money from the service staff.”
Rafael didn’t react.
“How?”
“She calls it a presentation fee.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means whenever she hosts a private dinner, she requires the servers to give back thirty percent of their gratuities.”
Rafael stared at her.
“To whom?”
“To her assistant. Cash.”
“How long?”
“Seven months.”
Rafael’s expression became still.
“That explains the payroll.”
Bernadette nodded.
“And there’s more.”
“What?”
“She humiliates the women. Throws things. Shoves them. Grabs them.”
“Names.”
“Naomi. Elise. Sarah. Marin.”
Rafael leaned forward.
“Marin Hollis?”
“Yes.”
“The waitress from last night.”
“Yes.”
“The one whose wrist was bruised.”
Bernadette looked at him.
“That’s why she wears thick gloves.”
Silence.
Rafael’s voice lowered.
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“I tried.”
His face tightened.
Bernadette immediately added, “That wasn’t fair. You’re busy. People around you decide what reaches you.”
“Who knew?”
“Restaurant manager. Celeste’s assistant. Maybe accounting.”
Rafael stood.
“And nobody said anything?”
“They were afraid.”
“Of Celeste?”
“Of you.”
That stopped him.
Bernadette continued.
“They thought attacking your future wife meant attacking you.”
Rafael looked toward the window.
Forty-seven floors below, Chicago traffic moved like veins of light.
Finally he asked, “Why didn’t Marin say anything?”
“Her mother is in long-term care. Marin works doubles because she needs the health benefits and every tip she can earn.”
Rafael turned.
“And Celeste takes thirty percent.”
“Yes.”
He walked toward the door.
Bernadette caught his arm.
“Rafael.”
He stopped.
“Don’t go in angry.”
“You think I’m angry?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her hand until she released him.
“You haven’t seen angry yet.”
---
Celeste was greeting engagement guests when Rafael appeared.
She smiled.
“There you are.”
“Private room.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
She followed him inside.
The second the door closed, Rafael placed the payroll reports on the table.
“What’s a presentation fee?”
Celeste blinked.
“What?”
“Thirty percent.”
Her expression shifted.
“You’ve been talking to employees?”
“I’m talking to you.”
Celeste folded her arms.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Then explain it.”
“I helped improve the restaurant’s image. I brought clients. I taught those girls how to serve people who expect a certain standard.”
“So you took their tips.”
“I collected a percentage for private events I organized.”
“Without authorization.”
“I’m marrying you.”
“That’s not authorization.”
Celeste stared at him.
“Don’t embarrass me tonight.”
Rafael’s voice remained level.
“Did you put your hands on Marin Hollis?”
Celeste laughed once.
“Oh, please.”
“Did you?”
“She’s dramatic.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“She spilled red wine on a couture gown last month.”
“So?”
“So I grabbed her arm. That’s all.”
“How hard?”
Celeste rolled her eyes.
“Rafael.”
“How hard?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hard enough to bruise her?”
Silence.
Celeste stepped closer.
“You cannot seriously be choosing a waitress over me.”
Rafael’s eyes sharpened.
“I’m choosing my rule.”
“What rule?”
“No one lays hands on somebody who can’t fight back.”
Celeste stared.
“You use that speech with criminals. Don’t use it with me.”
“I use it with everyone.”
Her lips parted.
Then anger replaced surprise.
“You want to ruin our engagement dinner because some poor little waitress cried?”
“I want the truth.”
Celeste grabbed her purse.
“You’ll have it after dinner.”
She walked toward the door.
Rafael blocked her.
“Celeste.”
“Move.”
“Did you hit her?”
Celeste’s voice dropped.
“You don’t get to interrogate me like one of your employees.”
“You’re right.”
She smiled coldly.
“I’m not your employee.”
“No.”
Rafael opened the door.
“You’re my fiancée.”
Guests in the corridor turned.
Rafael continued quietly.
“For the next five minutes.”
Celeste went pale.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
She stared at him.
Then pushed past.
Across the service corridor, Marin saw Celeste approaching and immediately turned toward the kitchen.
Celeste followed.
“Marin.”
Marin stopped.
“Miss Whitlock.”
“You.”
Celeste’s heels struck the tile.
“You did this.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Liar.”
“I swear.”
“Bernadette told him because of you.”
“I asked her not to.”
Celeste stepped closer.
“You think Rafael is going to save you?”
Marin backed toward the stainless-steel prep counter.
“I don’t want anything from Mr. Santoro.”
“You want attention.”
“I want to work.”
Celeste’s voice rose.
“You think he looks at you?”
Marin stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend.”
“Miss Whitlock, I think you should leave.”
Celeste slapped her.
The sound echoed through the kitchen.
Every cook stopped moving.
Marin held her cheek.
Celeste pointed at her.
“You forget who you are.”
Marin whispered, “No.”
“What?”
“I know exactly who I am.”
Celeste stepped closer.
“And what is that?”
Marin looked directly into her eyes.
“Someone you don’t get to hit again.”
Celeste lunged.
Her hands closed around Marin’s throat.
Marin slammed backward into the range.
A pan crashed to the floor.
People shouted.
Celeste tightened her grip.
Then a man’s voice cut through the kitchen.
“Take your hands off her.”
Celeste froze.
Rafael stood in the doorway.
May you like
And the expression on his face made the entire kitchen go silent.
---
