She had pushed Imogen too far. Daniella could always tell when she’d hurt beyond repair. She had no sense for it, in the moment. But afterward, Daniella could tell. She’d flown too high and too close to the sun with her barbs. She had to have finally hit a tender spot on Imogen.

But Daniella wasn’t going to back down now.

Even if Imogen had clearly geared herself up to talk to Jo and tell her the truth.

God—had Imogen already told Jo?

Daniella had made it this far in life with sheer determination and brazenness. She’d not stop now. “Is everyone okay? That sounded like a nasty spill. I heard it all the way in the break room.”

Jo wasn’t buying that for a second. She reached out and touched Daniella’s arm, trying to ground them both to this plane of reality. “Daniella. What is going on?”

Daniella took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to crack. She wasn’t going to throw Eli under the bus. She wasn’t going to succumb to Imogen’s threats or Imogen’s awful opinion of her. She was going to swagger her way through this one, just like she always did. If Imogen had thought she’d been a cool girl earlier, that was nothing compared to what Daniella would be now. She’d find the ice in her veins. The coolest girl in the fucking world? Just you watch. “Look. It’s all fine. I’m fixing it.”

“You’re fixing what?” Jo’s tone and expression went serious. Her eyebrows narrowed together, and her mouth pressed into a flat line.

Daniella’s heart rate rose until it was all she could hear. The rhythm of her own fear drowning out all sound and all sense.

Maybe Imogen hadn’t told Jo yet.

Daniella cleared her throat. “There was a mix-up in the ordering. The other night, when I was closing.”

“What kind of a mix-up?” Jo was unrelenting once you gave her something to focus on.

“A nine-thousand-dollar mix-up?” Daniella should have had more conviction in her voice. But she was lying to cover Eli’s own lie, and she was having trouble finding any thread of truth that could give her story conviction. A lie was nothing without a piece of the truth in it.

“You ordered nine thousand dollars of inventory? We can barely clear a thousand in a week, Daniella. Do you know what kind of screwup this is?” There was no kindness in Jo’s voice. No softening edge. No moment of understanding. Just a stone-cold panic. Just a vibrating anger that Daniella didn’t know Jo had in her.