The conference room lights were harsh.

Jenna Roland rubbed her eyes as Patrick Klein pushed the door open.

"Stella, Jenna, come with me." Patrick's tone brooked no argument.

Sophia Merouin stood in the corner, arms crossed, chin lifted. Her posture screamed: I own this place.

Jenna's gaze flickered over her.

"What are you staring at?" Sophia's eyes turned glacial.

Jenna looked away calmly. "I was looking at Chloe."

Chloe Blanchet pointed at herself, confused. "Me?"

"We'll talk later." Jenna's voice was flat.

Patrick cleared his throat. "The boss just acquired two new wines. A 1974 Romanée-Conti priced at $26,000. And a Moët & Chandon for $5,300."

Stella Laurent's hand shot up. "What's the commission?"

"Standard rate. Ten percent." Patrick scanned the room. "Sell one Romanée-Conti, earn $2,600."

Chloe gasped. "$2,600 in one night?"

"Exactly." Patrick nodded. "If you've got what it takes."

Stella elbowed Jenna. "You can do this. Dinner's on you!"

Jenna scoffed. "Who can afford wine that expensive?"

She thought of her empty wallet last night. Not every evening brought clients like Ethan Roscente.

"How do you know unless you try?" Stella's eyes glittered. "$2,600!"

Patrick clapped. "Meeting adjourned."

Chloe bounced over. "What did you want?"

"What perfume are you wearing?" Jenna asked offhandedly.

"Chanel No. 5. Over $800." Chloe preened.

Jenna's pupils contracted. That was half a month's medication money.

"You earn enough now." Chloe winked.

Jenna shook her head. Her brother's surgery fees, legal costs—all bottomless pits. A $10 drugstore scent would do.

Exiting the conference room, Jenna clenched her fists. As long as the money was clean, let people think what they wanted.