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the answer to the question I asked, Elise.” The table near us looks over, but I ignore the curious looks and maintain a neutral expression. “Because we both know I didn’t. We both know I’m not a person who flaunts or likes to attract attention—”

“Could’ve fooled me with what you’re wearing.” Those seven words make me freeze as the blood in my veins turns ice cold. “Since when do you wear lacy dresses and show off skin? You knew who was coming and tried to show me up. How could...”

The rush of happiness is gone sooner than it came, and I’m left repeating her words over and over again. Not because I’m upset over her accusation or the embarrassing behavior I’ll deal with later, but because the garment I’m wearing—the lacy gift left inside my home, in my room—didn’t come from her.

Then who? Who was in my room?

“I have to go,” I say and rush out, leaving her to her rant while my feet carry me out the cafe’s door and down the block before I register what’s happening. I’m walking aimlessly, without direction, but the tears rushing down my cheeks I feel. The tremor in my limbs makes this real. “No one else has a key. It’s impossible—”

“Miss Moore, what’s wrong?” a male voice calls out before a hand grips my elbow, pausing me in my tracks. The hold isn’t tight or painful, but I can’t help the terrified scream that rips from my throat as my breathing accelerates. All the calm from before the meeting is gone. All the hours of rest have amounted to nothing as my body sways and knees falter. “Hey. Hey. Please, look at me, Gabriella.” My eyes close instead, head shaking as this unadulterated fear sets in deep. “It’s me, Tero. Theodore’s assistant.”

“Theodore?” I manage to choke out, stumbling and falling a bit into him. For some reason I can’t explain nor have the capacity to question at the moment, I trust Theodore Astor and take in a deep breath. I’ve gone insane. “Where is he?”

Tero helps me stand upright, but stands close enough to catch me if I lose my balance again. “Can you look at me, please? I need to make sure you’re okay.” It takes me a minute, but I manage to meet his stare and force out a smile he isn’t buying. Tero’s near pastel-blue eyes watch me with concern. He waits until I nod to answer my earlier question. “He left for a meeting across town while I stayed back to pick up pastries from a bakery a few shops down.”

“I’m sorry to keep you. Please—”

“Hush, now.” Pulling his phone from his satchel, he slides a finger across the screen and then types out a quick message. The device pings a few seconds later and for a brief moment, I catch a sudden tilt of his head and the flaring of his nose while those unique eyes slide across the street and then down to the opposite end. “You’re safe. Understood?”

Had this been any other time, I would’ve thought the action was sweet, but my concern is ever present. Someone had been inside my room. Someone could’ve hurt me.

“I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“Liars never enter the kingdom of Heaven.” He raises a brow, expression a bit mocking but not in a disrespectful way—more like he’s trying to make me laugh, and he succeeds as a giggle slips through at the absurdity of it. “That’s more like it. No freaking out on me.”

“Sorry.”

“What scared you, Gabriella? Do you need help with something?”

“I think God will forgive me this one time,” is my answer instead. I’m deflecting, and we both know it.

“Would you rather I call Theodore?”

“No.”

“Then?” Another ping, and this time he shows me the message.

Get extra and bring her with you. ~Astor

“What is that supposed to mean? I’m not—”

“It means you are going to come with me and pick out an obscene amount of bakery treats and then take a ride with me across town. We have much to discuss, Miss Moore. Your fear being one of them.”

“And if I say no?” This is crazy. I’m even crazier for considering tagging along, especially with the butterflies that took flight at the text message his boss sent. “Then what?”

“Then I’ll let your blonde friend know you are with me. She’s just stepped out of the restaurant and is looking—”

“Deal.”

7

Gabriella

“How do you pick?” I mutter under my breath, my eyes traveling from one edge of the glass display that holds my one true weakness: chocolate. In every style and degree of sweetness, this place is like the mecca for cocoa worshippers, and I’m left standing with parted lips. To some, it might seem a little obscene. I am near panting, but if you love this decadent food like I do, you get it. “There are just too many. I’m—”

“You don’t, Gabriella.” Tero is standing at another case to my right, this one holding nothing but fruit tarts and macarons. He eyes each, simply pointing at the ones he wants while an older lady boxes up the purchase with a smile. So far she’s put together three boxes of his chosen treats, the embossing glinting in gold after it’s closed. “Get what you want. No regrets.”

“No regrets?”

“No regrets. Go nuts.”

“If Mr. Astor gets mad, this is on you.” In front of me there’s another woman, a bit younger and just as excited to help. “I want one of everything in this case and the entire Millionaire’s Cake you have on the other stand.”

“I’ll get those packed, and I have a little something extra for you. It’s new and not on the shelf, but I think you’ll really enjoy it,” she says and gets back to work, diligently filling my order while customers wait behind us. The place is pretty full, all tables occupied except the booth at the back with people munching and sipping their coffees, while we’re in and out in minutes.

I also find myself

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