Chapter 1: The Surprise Inspection
Success at Luigi’s Oven smelled like roasted garlic, melted mozzarella, and victory—right up until the moment a woman in a beige trench coat walked in carrying a clipboard and a scowl that could curdle cream.
“Francis Rossi?” the woman asked, tapping a pen against her aluminum clipboard with the rhythmic precision of a ticking bomb.
“Frankie,” I corrected, wiping my flour-dusted hands on my apron. “If you’re here for the lunch special, it’s two slices and a soda. If you’re here to critique the vinyl, my boyfriend Julian has already filed a three-page report on its structural character.”
She didn’t smile. “I’m Inspector Gable from the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene. We received three anonymous, high-priority complaints regarding severe sanitation violations, pest infestations, and improper food storage.”
I blinked. “Pest infestations? The only bug in this building is the timer on Oven Two, and I hit it with a spoon when it buzzes too loud.”
“We take multi-party reports very seriously, Miss Rossi,” Inspector Gable said coldly, stepping past the counter into my clean, polished kitchen. “Effective immediately, your kitchen is under formal administrative review. One major infraction during today’s walkthrough, and I will issue an emergency closure order.”
My stomach dropped straight into my non-slip shoes.
Ten minutes later, Julian walked through the front door, looking crisp in a navy suit. He took one look at my pale face and the stern woman inspecting the temperature of my walk-in cooler with a digital probe, and his loan-officer instincts immediately kicked into high gear.
“Frankie,” Julian said, stepping up to my side and setting a hand on the small of my back. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve been reported,” I whispered, holding back a wave of panic. “Three times. Anonymously.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. He looked past the inspector out the front window, where a shiny black Mercedes was parked across the street. Leaning against the driver’s door was a tall, immaculate blonde in oversized designer sunglasses, sipping a cold brew with a satisfaction that felt entirely too calculated.
Julian’s jaw tightened. “Victoria.”
I looked from the Mercedes back to Julian. “Victoria? As in Victoria, your ex-girlfriend who works in corporate compliance and threatened to sue her dry cleaner over a fallen hem?”
“The very same,” Julian said grimly. “She did not take our official relationship announcement on social media particularly well.”
“So she sent the health inspector to murder my business?” I gasped. “That is a terrifying level of petty.”
“She thinks she can freeze your operations,” Julian murmured, his dark eyes flashing with a sharp, protective fire. “She forgot that I do risk assessment for a living.”
