“You can’t shake your head and say maybe, it’s confusing.”
I shrug. “Well, I’m confused.”
“There’s definitely something bugging you. I’m going to assume that it’s a problem at the office.”
I nod. “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it.” I can’t talk about it, even if I want to.
“You can’t keep it inside, either. I’m going to assume that there is someone you can talk to about it. Someone at the office. Maybe the cause of all this…need to knead. You should talk to them. Bread-making is a good way to let off steam. You’re right to want to do that first, because you don’t want to say something you’ll regret. But you need to have that talk.”
“Oh, I intend to have that talk…don’t you worry.”
Simon smiles. “Keep baking for a while before you do that. What bread are you making?”
“Plaited white loaves. I think I might do a couple of plaited garlic ones as well.”
“We don’t have those on the sales board.” He frowns.
“Things need to start changing around here.”
“I’d say.” Simon chuckles. “First, you make those crazy cupcakes, and then you make the bread.”
“The crazy cupcakes are for someone at work.”
“I figured that part as well.” He laughs some more. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“You could never get on my bad side. You’re too nice.” I wipe my hands on my apron, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and have a talk with my father.” Now is as good a time as any.
Simon nods. “You’ve already done half of my work for the day, and it’s only just gone nine.” He looks at his watch. “You should pop in spitting mad more often.” He grins.
I can’t help it, I grin back. “You wish!”
He laughs.
I wash my hands, take off my apron, and go down the hallway to the office, which is a mess. There are files and stacks of paper everywhere. Funny, I never noticed that it was this bad before. After working at the pristine Zeus Group offices, I’m noticing now. There are two desks crammed into the small space. An ancient desktop computer is on one of them. There are stacks of accounts on the other. Boxes are piled into a corner of the room.
“Hey, sweetie,” my dad says as I walk in. “Mom mentioned you were here. She said you missed baking so much you needed to get your hands into some flour.”
“That’s right.” I nod and walk into the office.
He puts down an invoice. “Your boss doesn’t mind you taking the morning off?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ll stay later this afternoon to work the time back.” I take a seat on a threadbare office chair that squeaks as I do.
“Nice that you have flexi hours. Not often you hear of that in the corporate sphere.”
“My job is a little different.” Understatement of the year. I’m a personal assistant. Huh! More like a personal sex slave, where I am in charge of everything until a real decision about my own body comes along. Then, I apparently have no say. I clench my jaw. I haven’t baked nearly enough. Not nearly. I think I’ll make a couple of batches of cupcakes after all. I might just smoosh a couple more on Bolt’s chest. Heck, possibly even his face this time. Screw him!
“Honey,” my dad looks at me with concern, “why are you covering your mouth like you just said something terrible?”
I’m losing my mind. That man! “Um…nothing…I’m just worried.” It’s all true. “I’m worried about Buns, Dad.”
“We’ll get there. It’s just a matter of time before our customers come flocking back. Lower prices don’t equal service and quality. Don’t worry about it, Ash. Next month will be better.” It’s what he’s been saying since Sweet Things opened.
“I went to Sweet Things.”
“You went to… Why would you go there?” He frowns and takes off his glasses, wiping his eyes before putting them back on.
“I went to find out what all the fuss is about.”
“There’s no fuss.” He waves his hand, making a face.
“Dad, they charge more than we do.”
His eyes widen, and he gasps. “Did you buy something from them?” He frowns. “Why would you do that, Ashley? We have perfectly good items here at Buns. You didn’t need to go there.”
“That’s not why I went, Dad. I wanted to see the place. I wanted to try their pastries, coffees, and sandwiches.” He needs to understand that they offer a better selection. “How can we compete if we don’t know what we’re up against? How can we formulate a plan?”
“What do you mean by plan?” He frowns. “Buns has been around since you were a baby, Ash. We’re not going anywhere. It’s just a little bump in the road. We need to weather the storm. That’s all.”
“Dad…” I shake my head. I have to be careful how I proceed. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I have to make him see reason. “Maybe you should come with me to Sweet Things and take a look for—” I stop talking because my father’s face is going red.
“No! I don’t need to set foot in that place. They’re a franchise. There’s no way the service and standards can be as good as Buns. I don’t believe it.”
“I’m afraid they are as good, if not better.”
“No way.” He shakes his head, frowning.
“Dad, they have an awesome setup. You need to see—”
“You prefer it there?” he barks. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My daughter prefers the competition over her own flesh and blood.”
“That’s not it. Of course not. I love Buns. I love you and Mom. We have to face reality though. I’m stating facts here. They have a beautiful front-of-house with tables and chairs.”
“We have our bench.”
“People want to sit down and enjoy their—”
“Nonsense! People are busy. Why would anyone want to sit inside a bakery? No! You’re wrong, Ash.” Just because people wouldn’t want to sit at Buns, doesn’t mean that they don’t want to sit and enjoy their food in a sunny, bright environment. I can’t tell my dad that.
“All I know is that every table was taken. I—”
“So, you’re saying we should put a couple of chairs and tables out, and our lost customers would come right back?”
“No, that’s not—” I want to tell him how we need to think about bigger changes than that. Changes that might involve knocking down a wall or two.
“Exactly!” He pulls in a breath. “It’s a bump in the road, that’s all! It’ll be fine.” He flaps his hand again.
“It won’t, though, not unless—”
“You’re so negative.” His voice is hard. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Now he sounds sad. He’s looking at me with such disappointment. “Out of everyone out there, Ash, I would have thought that you would’ve been our biggest supporter.” He shakes his head, standing up. “Let me guess, you bailed on us because you figured we were going under. I hate to break it to you, missy, but that isn’t going to happen. Not on my watch. You should go back to your corporate job. We’ll be okay without you.” Then he walks out.
I’m reeling. My dad is wrong about everything. I’ve been dreading having this discussion with him because deep down inside, I knew it would go down like this. My dad is proud. He’s also very old-school, and I never realized how much he hated change. The fact is that Buns is still exactly the same as it was ten or fifteen years ago.
I’m frustrated. I feel tears well, but I fight to pull myself together. Tears won’t solve anything. I’ll give him some time to cool off, and then I’ll try again. I will also speak to my mom. Maybe she will listen to reason. I know that she’ll ultimately side with my dad on whatever he says, but maybe I can somehow convince her to whisper in his ear. Even if they make small changes, like a coffee station. It wouldn’t have to be as fancy as Sweet Things – but at least something. Throw in a couple of those ready-to-go sandwiches, and we’d be going in the right direction. There are small things they could do to
change things right now. No money necessary. Like me making those plaited loaves. Why can’t Simon start with a Bread of the Day or even a Bread of the Week? Something different to our current offerings. My dad will see that our customers want to try new things. They want innovation. Maybe we could even put a table or two outside, since out front-of-house is so outdated and cramped. Little things that would go a long way towards keeping the few customers we still have.
I start to stand, but one of the piles of paper catches my eye. There is a red stamp on the top invoice sitting on the stack to the right. It looks bad. My heart pounds. I shouldn’t read it. I’m sure we owe money to our flour supplier or something. Looks like we’re a little in the red. I’ll help out at the end of the month. It’ll all be okay. I force myself to breathe.
As much as I’m tempted to, I definitely shouldn’t look at the invoice. That would be wrong. It’s not addressed to me. Then again, I’m trying to save the family business. ‘Family’ being the keyword. I’m doing everything in my power to keep Buns afloat. I think part of the reason it got this bad is that we decided to bury our heads in the sand instead of facing up to the truth. I’m not doing that anymore. I need to know how bad things really are. I have this feeling that if I look at that red-stamped invoice, I will be closer to the truth. I pray it’s for flour…or maybe for packaging or something. An amount outstanding that’s manageable. It could be the guys who supply us with fondant. It’s nothing serious. I squeeze my eyes shut because I’m so tempted to walk out. I can’t! If my parents won’t face up to reality, then it’s my responsibility. We’re family. My father is afraid, that’s why he’s acting this way. I need to be strong. I need to be brave. I can do this!
I snatch up the invoice and gasp. It’s not an invoice but a statement. It’s worse than I ever could have imagined. Infinitely worse. It concerns my parents’ house. It looks like they’ve borrowed against their mortgage, which should have been paid up – or close to paid up – by now. They are nearing retirement age, and the bank is going to foreclose on their house. I make a sobbing noise, quickly covering my mouth. How have things gotten this bad? I knew it wasn’t great. I knew Buns was in trouble…but this? This is worse than I ever thought. I snap a picture of the statement with my phone. I had planned on giving Bolt a piece of my mind and then resigning, but I can’t do that now. I need my paycheck now more than ever. He’s still getting a piece of my mind. I hope he doesn’t fire me because of it. I don’t think he will. In fact, I know he won’t!
21
Bolt
My desk phone rings. I make a grab for it. “Yes,” I growl.
“Miss Shaw just drove in,” my head of security informs me.
I put the phone down and start pacing. My scales are rubbing again. My dragon is restless and pacing. This happens when my stress levels are too high. I take a couple of deep breaths and force myself to calm the fuck down. I can’t have Miss Shaw see my eyes glowing, or scales appear on my skin.
It’s just gone eleven. I canceled all my meetings for the day. I can’t concentrate. Can’t think straight. It’s unlike me, and I don’t like it. I’m completely off-kilter. I didn’t expect Miss Shaw to send me that text message last night.
Miss Shaw: I’m going to be late tomorrow!
I wonder what she’s been doing. Who did she see? Has she reneged on the NDA? Does she have a lawyer? I would encourage her to have the contract read by one. My cellphone rings, disturbing my thoughts. I check it in case it’s her, but it’s Lyre. I ignore it, letting it go to voicemail. Miss Shaw will be up soon. My phone rings again. It’s Lyre again. He doesn’t call me often, and then never twice in a row. I’m tempted to answer but leave it. He can leave me a message. Within seconds of the call ending, a text comes through.
Lyre: Call me! It’s urgent! Can’t wait!
I curse under my breath and call Lyre back. It had better be important. “What the fuck is going on?” Lyre growls almost before the cellphone can ring.
“I was going to ask you the same.”
“Morgan just sent me a picture of you with the harpy. It’s out of some bullshit magazine. It’s recent. What the fuck is going on? I watched her die.”
“Relax! It’s not the harpy.” I keep my voice even.
“I’m looking at the picture, and she sure as shit looks like the harpy.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard Lyre sound this uptight.
“I’m telling you,” I say between clenched teeth, “her name is Ashley.” I deliberately don’t give her last name. “She is not the harpy.”
“I’m sorry to have to say this, Bolt, but I’m not sure I can trust you. Either she has a twin, or that bitch isn’t dead. I’m not sure how that would be possible since I saw her die,” he mutters to himself. “Thing is, since meeting Death, I’ve realized it’s not all that cut and dry. Shannon coming back from the dead. As in, she died – no pulse. I happen to know that anything is possible.”
“You can trust me, Lyre. It’s not her. End of story!”
“End of story, my ass! I’m calling a meeting. I suggest you be there.”
“Don’t call a meeting.” I push out a breath.
“It’s not a discussion. Either it’s her, or you’re hooking up with someone who looks exactly like Gabby. I don’t like either option. Option one would be bad for all of us, and option two would be bad for—”
Miss Shaw opens the door and walks into my office. No knock! Her eyes are narrowed. She looks fucked off. “I’ve got to go,” I say.
“No!” Lyre shouts. “Don’t you—” I put the phone down on him and switch it to silent.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” I put my hands in my pockets, trying to act calm. I’m not. “Take a seat, Miss Shaw.”
“I don’t want to sit.” She’s carrying something – a box and the envelope is on top.
“I think you would be more comfortable sitting.” I look down at her heels. It’s another high pair. They make her legs look long and sexy as fuck. “We can talk about it.”
“There isn’t much to talk about. I’m not signing this.” She looks down at the document. Then she walks to my desk and puts the box down. I think there are cupcakes inside it, but I’m not entirely sure. She drops the document on my desk next to the box.
I walk over and glance down. “Cupcakes?” They’re bright red. “Red velvet?” I ask. I don’t recall seeing this color in the display cabinet when I was there last week.
She snorts. “No, red velvet cake has a white cream cheese frosting. I made this specially for you this morning. I felt inspired. Baking helps center me. After reading that NDA, I needed to take several hot baths, and I needed to bake. So, there you go, and you’re welcome.”
“Thank you for the cakes. I’m glad they’re still in one piece and not smeared all over my chest.”
She stares daggers at me. Shit. This is worse than I thought. “I told you that every aspect of that agreement is up for negotiation. What are the stumbling blocks?” I keep my eyes on hers.
“Did you hire me with the intention of turning me into your whore?” Her eyes blaze.
I frown. “Whore?” I shake my head. “That was never my intention. I assure you.”
“That document says different. Just tell me, when you hired me, were you planning on sleeping with me? Or trying to sleep with me, because it’s not going to happen!”
A thrill runs through me. I don’t think a woman has ever turned me down. Even the shifter females. They didn’t particularly like me. They weren’t interested in a relationship with me, but I could get into their panties if I wanted to. This is the first time I’ve had a ‘no’. I don’t like it, and yet it excites me too. For once in my life, I’m going to have to work for it. I might even have to walk over hot coals to get Miss Shaw into my bed. Good thing I like heat.
“I was instantly attracted to you, but to answer your question, no, I had no intention of sleeping with you. That quickly changed. I liked that you turned my offer down. It showed guts.
I loved how honest you were when it came down to it. When you plastered frosting all over my chest, I was a goner. I—”
“That was a mistake.” She puts her hands on her hips, and her jaw tightens.
“It doesn’t matter, Miss Shaw. Accident or no, I could only think of smearing frosting all over you and licking it off…slowly and carefully.”
Her nostrils flare, and her pupils dilate. She’s wearing some vintage-looking dress with lace trimming. It’s cute. I’m trying not to look, but I can still see how her nipples have hardened. Miss Shaw might hate me right now, but she still wants me. “Oh, blame the cupcakes, why don’t you,” she mutters.
“I’m not blaming anything. I’m telling you that I didn’t hire you with the intention of sleeping with you, but that my intentions very quickly changed. I called my lawyer straight after the cupcake incident and asked him to add a whole lot of clauses to the more specific NDA.”
She growls. I swear I feel my balls tighten just hearing her. Her hands curl into fists. “I’m not signing that thing.”
“Which clauses—?”
“Don’t change the subject.” She folds her arms, pushing her tits up and I’m fucked if I don’t look because, holy fuck! “Excuse me! Are you checking me out right now?”
“You look beautiful. That dress is… I like it.” I sound like an idiot. I can’t help it. She has me tongue-tied.
Her eyes narrow. “You mean, you like how my breasts look in it.”
“You have great breasts, Miss Shaw. It’s not just your breasts, though. It’s all of you.” I pause, keeping my eyes on hers. “It’s not just how you look, either.” I’m shocked to find I mean it. “I like you as a person. You make me laugh. You make me think. You’re making me work fucking hard, and I don’t work hard…I work smart.”
“Well, that wasn’t very smart.” She points at the NDA, then takes a step. Unfortunately, she nearly falls over. Those heels are a liability.
I step forward and grab her hips. “You really shouldn’t wear anything higher than an inch, Miss Shaw.” I smile.
Lord of Rain (The Dragon Demigods Book 5) Page 17