“Positive. We’re friends. Cheesesteak preferences aside.” He winks.
I smile as I drink my wine and let the alcohol release the dopamine in my brain, making me feel relaxed and loose. At least, I’ll pretend it’s the wine and not the man I’m sitting with.
After dinner, we clean up and finish baking. As we melt the chocolate, I find us standing closer. His body sends a wave of heat my way, hotter than the stove.
When he sprinkles the sea salt, I tickle his ribs and force a salty mess on the ground.
As we eat it, he runs his thumb on my chin to clean a bit of chocolate.
Our evening is intimate, but that’s as intense as it gets. I pack him up a tin of brittle to take home and a bag of my homemade treats for Duke, which Sebastian takes as his cue to leave. He places his wineglass in the sink and then grabs his bag that I prepared for him.
“This was a wonderful surprise. Thanks for teaching me your grandmother’s recipe,” he says as he grins my way.
“I had fun.”
I open the door for him, and he stands for a beat before walking through. I follow him a step and watch as he turns around, leans down, and kisses my cheek.
“Good night, Amy.”
Sebastian walks to his car, which is parked in the alley, looking out of place in the dingy space. He turns the car on and backs up to the main road.
“Sweet dreams, Sebastian.” My words are said to no one as I close the door behind me and lock it. I turn the lights off in the kitchen and head into my room-slash-office.
As I curl into bed, Lady Featherington whimpers lightly from the floor.
I lean down and pick her up, tucking her beside me. Things might not be going my way one hundred percent, but I have my dog back, and because of that, I have everything I could ever want.
Well, almost everything.
Chapter Thirteen
“Five hundred.”
I look over at Shawn with a raised brow, wondering what he’s talking about.
“Five hundred truffle boxes for a corporate event,” he clarifies as he hands me an order form, which is basically his scribble on a notepad. “The order came in while you were out, apartment-hunting.”
I take it from him and stare at the request, blinking to make sure I’m reading it correctly. Five hundred chocolate truffle gift boxes at twenty dollars a box.
“Shawn, this is a ten-thousand-dollar order,” I say, trying to keep my mouth from hitting the floor but having a really hard time doing so.
“I know, boss! Your largest to date.” He slides across the room and snaps his fingers.
“Did you tell them we give a bulk order discount?”
“Nope.” He smiles as he looks at me, proud of himself. “And there’s a special request.” He raises his eyebrows at me, like he’s excited to tell me the rest. “They want you to create a chocolate tasting station at the event as well. Don’t worry; I already checked your calendar, and you’re free. Just like every weekend for the next forever.”
I give him a scowl and then look back at the notepad, which is difficult to read with his chicken scratch but I do my best. When I make out his words, I gasp at what they say and turn to him, placing my hand on the counter to brace myself. “You said the tasting table would be two thousand dollars?” I nearly yelp.
“Too little?” he asks, confused.
I walk over to the counter and put my bags down while staring at the paper. “I don’t know. I’ve never priced out a tasting table.” I squint at the paper and then point to it. “Does this say chocolate fondue?”
“You should call and confirm the details. I told the guy you’d call him back this afternoon. His name was Miles, just in case you can’t read that last part.” He moves to the boxing table, where he’s been packing artisanal chocolates all morning.
The paper says Miles but no further information.
“Miles? You mean, Miles from Blake, Fields, and Moore? Sebastian’s assistant?” I ask, still completely flabbergasted as to what’s going on but getting a hunch it’s not the dream order I’ve been hoping for.
“Yep, that’s the guy.” He snaps his fingers and then points at me.
My shoulders fall. “It’s just another one of Sebastian’s handouts. I’ll call back and tell them we can’t fulfill such a large order by next weekend.”
Shawn nearly drops the carton he’s holding while his eyes bug out. “Are you out of your mind, woman?”
“Are you talking back to your boss, man?” I give him sass back even though I’m not annoyed or mad.
Shawn means well. He merely is unaware of Sebastian Blake’s desire to do things for me for free. At this point, I think he feels guilty for how our brief relationship ended. I don’t need his charity or his pity.
“You’re crazy, Amy. That’s a huge order, and it could go a long way in growing this business.”
Placing the paper down, I try not to think about how that kind of order could help me right now as I search in my bag and take out the spices I purchased to test out some new flavors.
“I already have a game plan on how to grow the business. My loan is approved, so the website is being revamped, and I’m going to try some new products. Also, I’m doing a mass mailing campaign to the local networks and magazines and then branching out to the nationals. I’ve reached out to dozens of food blogs for their addresses to send them samples. My goal is to spread the love of Amy Morgana Chocolatier without having to hire a publicist.”
He grimaces while working, not looking up at me. “That sounds like you’ll be sending out approximately a hundred or so boxes of chocolate. Pretty pricey endeavor for someone who hasn’t gotten a check from the bank yet. Might be wise to take on a ten-thousand-dollar order to offset those costs,” he muses loudly.
I roll my eyes and put my tote away.
The back door swings open, and Charity comes in with a huge smile and a cardboard tray with three coffee cups. “Happy Thursday, everyone!”
Tying my apron on, I address my best friend, “You’re extra bouncy this morning.”
“The sun is out, and the flowers are blooming.” She hands me a coffee cup and then one to Shawn. “Thought I’d bring some java for my two favorite people.”
Shawn looks at me, concerned. “Drugs?”
With a laugh, I shake my head. “My money is on a new man.”
“For your information, I have a hot date this weekend with the barista at Love and Lavender.” Charity sneaks a piece of chocolate from the tray that Shawn is packing from and grins. “Delish! Is that the whiskey and sea salt? So good.” She tries to take another, but he swats her bangled hand away.
“Thanks. I’m working on lemon chiffon truffles for the summer. The website rebuild will have a section for showers and luncheons. Thought some citrus will work well for warm weather events, and I’ll need a taste-tester.”
She raises a hand. “I volunteer as tribute.”
I give her a wink and get to work on my new recipe while Charity takes a seat at the island.
“How’s apartment-hunting going?” Charity asks as I line up five bowls.
I’m going to make the recipe several times with varying amounts of lemon to see which is the best.
“It was decent, but with my limited budget, I’m not in love. Plus, I need a place that allows dogs.”
“You can afford to splurge a little,” she suggests, flipping her hair.
“I need to put as much money as possible into growing the orders, so I can move on to phase two, which is a storefront.”
“And when is that expected to happen?” she asks as she eyes another piece that Shawn is packing up.
“It’s a five-year plan,” I answer easily.
“You’d get to your goal faster if you weren’t so stubborn and turning down large deals from lover boy,” Shawn chimes in. Charity’s head swivels to him with raised brows, so he explains, “Sebastian placed a huge order, and Amy refuses to take it because it’s”—he uses air quotes—“ ‘a handout.�
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“Oh, for the love of …” She jumps off the stool and leans onto the counter. “Are you out of your mind?”
I scowl at Shawn and then look to Charity, who is drumming her fingers on the metal table, waiting for a proper reason why I’d turn down business.
“It’s complicated,” is the only response I can give.
“It’s romantic. He’s your knight in shining armor, who continues to show up to rescue you. The last time he was here, you had this magical night.”
I laugh while keeping myself from rolling my eyes. “We talked about cheesesteaks and our dead grandmas. I’d hardly call it magical.”
“The fact that you told Shawn and me about it the next day means it was way more than the drab evening you’re pretending it was.” She gives me a don’t lie to me look that makes me turn away, getting back to my task.
She’s right. I did tell her and Shawn about it. Sebastian and I hadn’t kissed, and the conversation was basic, yet … there was something special about the night. Having him here, in my home, in my business, with my dog, sharing a meal and wine and baking. We laughed and talked and enjoyed music.
Perhaps it was a bit magical.
I won’t admit that out loud though.
Charity must sense this pause in conversation as an opening because she walks over, grabs my shoulders, and makes me face her.
“It was lovely. Are you happy now?” I give her a sarcastic grin.
She tilts her head to the side. “No. You’re turning away business. This is not the Amy I know. My best friend would stop at nothing to drum up enough business and get her name out there whether it was one box of truffles or a hundred.”
“Times that by five,” Shawn chimes in, and Charity’s jaw drops. “And some sort of tasting station.”
Her eyes bug out.
Shawn takes the paper with the message for the order on it and hands it to her. She holds it up and squints as she tries to read it, her face making all kinds of crazy expressions as she does.
Charity walks over to me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Amy Morgana, you listen to me. I don’t care if you are secretly in lust for this man or if you hate his guts. There is nothing in the world you love more than this business. That is why you’re going to put on your big-girl panties, fasten your chef’s jacket, and get your ass to this event, where you are going to put on the best goddamn tasting ever. You’ll hand out those boxes, and by the end of the night, the Philadelphia elite will know the name Amy Morgana Chocolatier.”
“This doesn’t seem like a handout to you?” I ask, scrunching my face and feeling unsure.
“You’re living on a futon and taking showers in a nasty gym, where you have to wear flip-flops while trying to clean your booty. Swallow your pride for one night and get ahead in this world.”
I smile at Charity’s tone. She’s gone all super-serious boss lady on me, and it’s not like her at all. In fact, I like this authoritative stance on her.
“So, what you’re saying is, this is a good idea?”
Shawn laughs, and Charity shoots him a glare.
“And you,” she says to him, “clear your schedule. You’re working the event too.”
He points a finger at his chest. “Why me?”
“Because our head chef and face of the business needs to be talking to the people while you serve them. Amy Morgana Chocolatier is luxury artisanal chocolates. The creator of such luxury does not serve. Others must do it for her.” Charity takes another chocolate, chews it, walks back to her seat, and sits down.
“Looks like we have an event to prepare for,” I say, and she bolts out of her seat, clapping her hands in excitement.
Shawn, too, seems pleased I decided to do the event. The more I think about it, the more the idea of putting on a show of my chocolate sounds like quite the opportunity.
As I mix the ingredients, a small smile grows on my face, and Charity walks up, nudging me with her hip.
“You’re envisioning it, aren’t you? This is your opportunity. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Glitz and glamour.
It’s the perfect phrase to describe the event held at the rooftop atrium, where Blake, Fields, and Moore is hosting their annual gala.
Men are donned in suits as the women wear their most sophisticated cocktail attire. There’s champagne, caviar, and crystal chandeliers. While guests nibble on canapes, they discuss business, and joke with raucous laughter as a band plays at the far end of the room.
Shawn and I are set up in a corner. The original request asked for a chocolate fondue fountain. To be honest, I’m not a fan of those things. The chocolate is always subpar, and to use my own recipe, it would have been astronomical. Instead, we have tiered rows of artisanal chocolates that we are using to pair with each guest’s drink of choice this evening.
Since this is a mingling event, people are strutting about, working the room. No one is dancing, though I assume by the large dance floor, they will be later.
I adjust the collar of my chef’s jacket and make sure the name on the coat is visible in its scripted font.
“You look great, boss.” Shawn tries to calm my nerves as I watch people pass our table.
“Why aren’t they coming over here?” I whisper to him through my smile.
“Probably because they just got here and they plan on diving into some of that steak on the other side of the room and getting a little hammered before dessert,” he states. “Just smile, relax, and don’t worry. You’re getting paid whether or not they come over here.”
I give him a half-smile even though I’m a ball of nerves inside.
Still, I stand here, as professional as possible, and smile as guests pass without sampling. I’m watching people flutter about in a sea of high-priced suits and diamond stud earrings when, suddenly, like parting waves of the Atlantic, the crowd moves, and in its wake is Sebastian.
There are hundreds of people in this room, yet none hold a candle to him. He’s taller than most, leaner than most, and his laugh—although I can’t hear it from here—is most definitely more vibrant than everyone combined. I’m halfway across the room, and I’m taken by the sheer charisma and confidence that ooze from him.
He’s wearing a black suit with a matching tie. With his broad shoulders and tapered waist, the fine suit shows off his body, which is undeniably athletic. His golden hair is combed back, and his lips are pursed on a lowball glass filled with an amber liquid.
He’s a stunning man. I’ve never been one for big or brawny guys. My ex-boyfriends have all been lanky. The cool, low-key, unassuming kind of man. Everything Sebastian is not.
Sebastian is a mix of muscle and tone. He’s sexy without being roguish. Built without the unneeded bulkiness. His features are soft and beautiful yet hard where it counts—like his jaw, his piercing gaze, and his lips.
My hand brushes against the other one at the memory of what his felt like on mine.
I place my hands on my hips, recalling how his felt as they gripped me tightly, never wanting to let go.
Shawn leans over and whispers, “Down, girl. You’re practically foaming at the mouth.”
I give him the side-eye, which I hope he reads as the equivalent of giving him the finger.
“I take it, that’s the loyal lawyer over there?” He juts his chin toward Sebastian, who is making his way closer to us, still chatting away.
“That’s him.”
“You can try to act like you aren’t into the guy, but your misty-eyed expression is a total giveaway.”
“Not the conversation we should be having here,” I whisper out the side of my mouth.
“Just saying. Dude is rich, and he really likes to help you out.”
“Money isn’t everything.” I fidget with the tablecloth, making sure everything is straight.
“Trust me, I know or else I’d never get laid. He’s a good-looking dude though. Probably could have any woman in this room.”
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I tilt my head at Shawn and scowl. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. Just stating a fact. He’s a baller. Look at how he holds that woman’s hand while she speaks. She’s practically wetting her panties right now.”
I glance over. Sebastian is talking with a woman who is significantly older than him. He has one of her hands wrapped in his. Not in a sexual way. It’s a warm gesture that he must be coupling with a compliment because she’s batting her eyes and leaning forward. A man at her side, presumably her husband, is beaming at her, agreeing with whatever it is Sebastian is saying. Sebastian releases her hand and then shakes the man’s before moving on to the next couple.
“He’s just working the room,” I surmise.
Shawn nods. “Like I said, baller.”
I roll my eyes with a grin as I continue to smile at the passing guests. The music being played is an old jazz standard that has me swaying a little.
Sebastian is getting closer, and soon enough, he makes his way over to our table. There are mountains of finely placed chocolates on the table, and instead of looking at any of them, his gaze penetrates me as I breathe deeper and smile brighter.
“Good evening, Amy.”
My belly flutters, and it takes me a moment to speak. “Sebastian. Thank you so much for hiring us. It’s absolutely beautiful. I’ve always wanted to attend an event up here.”
His expression doesn’t hide his surprise. “Is this your first time inside the atrium?”
I nod. “All work and no play, I suppose.”
Sebastian shifts his head and then turns back to me. His brows lower, making the side of his eyes wrinkle as he stares at me, lost in thought. He smiles and then glances down for a moment, taking in the display. “This looks delectable. You’re most definitely going to spoil our guests.”
“Shawn here helps me create every piece,” I say by way of introduction. “Sebastian Blake, this is my sous-chef, Shawn McCormack.”
Shawn extends a hand. “Nice party. It would be nicer if we could get some guests over here to taste Amy’s amazing products.”
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