“Actually, I did. I called Samson on Tuesday and between him and Lucinda, I think we have it handled.”

“Who’s Samson?”

“He’s the contractor who did the patio.”

“And Lucinda?”

“She’s his daughter and his interior decorator. She’s young, but marvelous, and she has some great ideas.”

“So what’s your timeframe?”

“Why, are you anxious?”

“In more ways than one, darling,” Addison said, picking up her wine glass. “In more ways than one.”

Before Joanna could continue the conversation, a man approached the table and judging by his gray, pinstriped suit, he wasn’t employed by the restaurant. At first, Joanna thought him somewhat handsome and distinguished for a man of his age, but she changed her mind when his expression turned smug, and his lips curled into a sneer.

“It looks like this place is lowering their standards,” he said, directing his words toward Addison.

There was not a flicker of emotion on Addison’s face as she slowly placed her wine glass on the table before turning to look at the man now hovering over her. She took a moment and regarded Maxwell Firth with a cool stare before she spoke. “Yes, I can see they have,” she said, turning back to look at Joanna. “Pity.”

Not to be denied, Maxwell bent at the waist, lowering his voice to keep their conversation private. “I have to congratulate you on that stunt you pulled off at Christmas. I underestimated the value of just how much a Pygmalion wife is worth. Perhaps you can tell me where you found yours so I can do some shopping, too. Are they as easily trained as I’ve heard?”

Joanna couldn’t hear most of what the man was saying, but Addison was now wearing a thin-lipped snarl, and in her eyes, Joanna saw murder.

Addison’s anger pounded in her ears, and the thought of pummeling Firth into a mass of unrecognizable lard crossed her mind more than once, but that’s exactly what he wanted, and she knew it. His cronies had yet to best her in the board room, and Firth was no match for her when it came to business, but if he could tarnish her image, taint it with fisticuffs in the middle of a luxury restaurant, he may have limped away with a few bruises, but the damage to her reputation would be far more blemished.

Addison swiveled just enough to look the man in the eye. “I think it’s time for you leave, Max,” she said in an unwavering voice. “You and I have nothing to discuss, and your sour grapes is...well, it’s boring.”

Still close enough so only Addison could hear, Maxwell said, “You may have won this battle, Kane. Hell, you may win all of them, but in the end, I’ll still win.”

“Maybe you should lay off the scotch, Max,” Addison said with a grunt of disgust. “You’re becoming delusional.”