Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
She had crossed her arms, not caring in the least. “Not my problem.”
“Can you at least take it out over two checks? Please? I have to eat for the next couple of weeks and get to work. I have to buy another bus pass too.”
“Fine.”
“And can I get more hours? I’ll take whatever you give me.”
“I want a cut of your side gig.”
“You already get a cut.” I waved the bill. “More than I do.”
“I want twenty percent on top, or forget using the equipment or the van.”
“Twenty percent?” I repeated. “No.”
“Forget it, then.”
“I’ll quit,” I threatened. I was her best employee. We both knew it.
She laughed. “You need me much more than I need you. Think about it. I’m sure we can figure something out.”
I’d been up all night, thinking, planning, budgeting. I was screwed, no matter what I did. The only way I could avoid it was to stop making my cakes and wait to build up my reputation once I finished school. I was taking a break right now to work more and save money. Another year and I would be finished with my culinary course and have the two degrees I wanted and needed to start my own business. Maybe I could find more hours at another bakery.
I would miss making my creations, and it would be hard to say no and halt the progress I had made, but I was used to having to fight for things.
I would just have to be patient a little longer.
Then this morning, I was laid off from my administrative assistant job. They were cutting back, and the department I worked in was the first to go. I was despondent. I had to find another job, perhaps a full-time one and give up on my dream—at least for a while. It might be my only choice. My cat had seemed ill, and I’d had to rush her to the vet, only to discover she had a major furball, which she barfed up on the examining table. Luckily, I had a great vet, but they still charged me for the visit. My bank account was growing smaller by the minute, it seemed.
I was distracted and in an off mood at work. Normally, baking soothed me. Not today. MaryJo was out this afternoon, so I didn’t have to contend with her, which was a small blessing. But the entire front area was a mess, the schedule not organized, and the baking not going well. It never did when her two kids were working with me. I slammed around in the back, catching up, then headed out front, noticing the empty coffee cups on the tables and people waiting for refills.
It wasn’t part of my job, but I grabbed the coffeepot and went around, filling mugs and trying to smile at people.
As I approached the last few tables, I felt it. That strange intensity I had sensed at Carolina’s wedding. The one focused on me.
It wasn’t possible.
But when I lifted my eyes and met the golden gaze of the man in the corner, my world shifted.
He didn’t belong here. In the run-down shop with the chipped tables and paper napkin dispensers, he was a god. Another designer suit hugged his frame. Shiny black shoes covered his feet, not a speck of dust on them.
It wouldn’t dare.
He oozed authority and power. Sex. His gaze was zeroed in. On me.
Heat flooded my body. My heart rate picked up. My breaths shortened. Instinctively, I began to back away, needing to flee his gaze. His aura.
But he shook his head, lifting his cup.
The chances he’d walked in here wanting coffee were nil.
He had come for me. I was certain of it. But I tried to bluff my way through and pretend I didn’t remember who he was. The kisses we’d shared.
“Would you like a refill, sir?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.
“Yes,” he replied, pushing his cup toward me. I tried not to notice how my hand shook as I poured it. He didn’t say anything, and I began to turn around when he spoke, but I knew I had failed in fooling him.
His next words confirmed it.
“Hello, my little bee,” he murmured. “I’ve been waiting.”
I had no control. My fingers loosened, and the pot slipped from my hand.
All I could do was watch it.
Chapter Five
DANTE
I lunged, grabbing the coffeepot by the handle before it hit the floor. I straightened, setting it on the edge of the table, and stepped closer to Brianna. I towered over her small frame, somehow liking that fact. I felt invincible.
“Not happy to see me?” I asked.
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She looked at the coffeepot, then back at me.
Then she did the most extraordinary thing.
She began to cry. She flung herself into my arms, burying her face into my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist as she sobbed. I had little experience with comforting crying women since I was usually the one who made them weep, but instinctively, I pulled her close, pressing her face into my torso, surrounding her. Protecting her.