Muttering under his breath and shaking his head, he walked out closing the door behind him.
I sat there, chest rising and falling, heat still crawling under my skin as I tried to calm down. My fingers tapped against my thigh, restless.
A few minutes later, the door opened again and Madam strode in. She didn’t say anything at first, just took a seat behind her desk and looked at me. That same sharp, assessing gaze that made grown men straighten up and women second guess themselves.
I held it. I wasn’t about to fold.
Finally, she leaned back slowly in her chair, folding her hands neatly on top of her desk.
“Tell me what happened?” she said calmly.
I let out a breath through my nose. “She interfered with my client.”
Madam’s brow lifted slightly. “Interfered how?”
“She was talking to him before I got downstairs,” I replied, my tone tight. “Next thing I know, he’s backing away from me like I got a disease and running out the door.”
Madam’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re sure that’s what happened?”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “I’m not guessing. I saw it.”
She tapped her finger lightly against the desk, thinking. There was a soft knock at the door. Monroe stepped in. I rolled my eyes, my temper spiking again.
“Madam,” she said sweetly, closing the door behind her. “I just wanted to clear up whatever confusion there might be.”
I sucked my teeth, leaning back in my chair. “There's no confusion. You know what you did.”
Monroe ignored me completely. “I was simply making conversation,” she continued smoothly. “He approached me first. I didn’t realize he was Gianna’s client. Then she saw us and she got all bent out of shape. I said nothing derogatory.”
She was a bald-headed ass liar. She didn’t even blink when she said it. I cut my eyes at her, my jaw tightening. “You’re full of shit.”
“Gianna,” Madam said sharply.
I leaned back again, forcing myself to be still.
Monroe gave me a small, satisfied glance before turning back to Madam. “I would never intentionally disrupt business,” she said. “You know that.”
Madam’s eyes moved between us—weighing. “Whether intentional or not,” she said slowly, “a client left my establishment unsatisfied. That's a problem.”
Monroe’s smile didn’t falter, but I saw the slight shift in her shoulders. “I understand,” she said.
Madam’s gaze moved to me. “And you,” she continued. “Losing your composure in front of clients is also a problem.”
I exhaled sharply but didn’t argue.
“I don’t tolerate chaos in my house,” Madam went on. “It disrupts the experience. And the experience is what we sell.”
“Yes, Madam,” we both said.
She leaned forward slightly, her tone lowering. “If there is tension between my girls, it will be handled professionally. Not like…this.” Her eyes flicked to me briefly, then to Monroe. “Do you both understand?”
“I do,” Monroe said.
“…Yeah,” I muttered.
Madam sat back again, satisfied. “Good.” There was a pause. “And Monroe?”
“Yes, Madam?”