The bakery is slow for the rest of the day. I’m not sure if it’s because Sienna and her husband to be, Lev, are here, or if their scary man outside is driving people away. I offer them multiple different options and glance at Mona more than once, but Mona’s focused elsewhere. She licks her lips as she looks at the man standing outside.
“Just go,” I encourage her. “Show him your moves.”
Mona winks at me. “I guess I’ll take my break.”
“This one,” Lev says, pointing at a cupcake.
Sienna giggles. “I knew it would be your favorite.”
They kiss and he rubs up her thigh. She grabs his wrist and shakes her head, despite her bright eyes flicking to me and then back to him. She whispers in his ear and he groans. “Four tiers of the chocolate and strawberry.”
“But!” Sienna jumps up and moves around the table even though her fiancé looks like he’s about to jump up and pull her down on the table and to enjoy her right here, no matter who sees. She holds a hand out to Lev, like she’s fending him off. “But can you also do filling in the cake?”
“More chocolate?” Lev guesses.
“No, something light. Like whipped cream or a mascarpone with strawberries?” Sienna answers while still edging away from her fiancé.
“Whatever you want,” he agrees, his voice low and growly.
“It sounds like it’s settled. Anything in terms of décor?” I ask.
“We’ll send it over,” Lev decides, his eyes only on his bride- to- be. “Right now, my fiancée and I have something to take care of.”
“Is that so? I was thinking I’d go into greater detail with Abby on a few of the specifics and touch base on-”
In one move, she’s over his shoulder. She gasps and waves to me. “I’ll send over some inspiration photos I have with specifics!”
“Okay!” I yell, waving as he carries her out of the building. I’ve never seen a couple more in love or more willing to show it. It’s cute, especially considering that Lev’s in the mafia. I wouldn’t even guess that he was involved in crime just by looking at him with Sienna.
It’s like the fact he’s in the mafia doesn’t matter at all to her. She just loves him. As he is. For some reason, knowing that weighs on my mind. Rather than worrying about it, I work on cleaning up the table, making sure to think about what Sienna and Lev will want on their cake. I doubt they’ll do the actual little people statues that have fallen out of fashion.
Maybe they’ll want flowers. I could imagine some gold leaf on the flowers to add some extra class, maybe some gems to make it sparkle a bit. The idea makes me smile. I sketch a few things, send them over, and Sienna sends me her goals ideas–a look of pearls (white and gold) alongside some fun texturing of the frosting. I put small purple flowers into the mix, cascading and wrapping around the cake.
Grinning, I order what I’ll need on top of the usual ingredients for my pastries. I spend the rest of the day baking and prepping for tomorrow, so I can sleep soon. When we close up, I almost expect Danya to be waiting for me outside, but he’s not.
I tell myself everything is going to be fine, then nod. I told him I need time, and that’s what he’s going to give me. Even if I wish he wouldn’t. I roll my eyes and get on my vespa. This is the right thing to do. Kissing in private leads to doing a lot more in private. I have to remember the bloodshed, his warning about me being in danger by being with him, and the very real ramifications of being with him. I could die. I’d always be in danger. I doubt I’d ever get to sleep around my bed time. I could die!.
Shaking my head, I throw myself back into work over the next few days. I don’t text Danya, I don’t ask for him to come around, but I leave a bit earlier to go to a restaurant on the beach, basking in the sea breeze.
Maybe I should get an assistant. I could teach someone in the kitchen, hire them part time just to see how they do and consider hiring them full time or something like that. I smile at the thought as I take a drink from my margarita. I lick the salt from the rim and let my head fall back a bit.
“Well, a woman like you shouldn’t be alone,” a tan man with dark hair and warm brown eyes says with a grin. “And you shouldn’t be limited to one drink.”
“Thank you, but I’m enjoying the quiet.”
“More than you’d enjoy some time with company?” he asks before purring to me in Spanish.
We talk for a bit and I have another margarita, one that feels a lot stronger than the first. I hesitate as I get halfway through the first sip and my eyes flick to the man. “What did you say your name was? It skipped out of my head.”
“Oh, me? I’m no one but a handsome face to keep a ... beautiful woman company. Hermosa princesa,” he croons.
“So no names, just sharing a table?” I ask.
He nods.
“Do you mind if I get a picture of the ocean? I want to send it to my friend who’s stuck at work, just to make her a little jealous,” I say.
He nods. I lift my camera and get half of his face in the photo. I send it to Danya just because I don’t like the way this guy talks or how he avoids basic questions. After a few minutes, my phone buzzes.
The man grabs my hand. “Your friend must be very jealous to text back so fast.”
“Of course she is. She doesn’t get to see the beach very often,” I say with a grin before answering my phone.
He’s asking for a location. That isn’t a good sign. I send the restaurant name and put my phone down. “Don’t worry, I told her I’m with good company and don’t want to be disturbed.”
For some reason, knowing that a murderous man is on his way to save me has me grinning instead of panicking. I keep the conversation going and when the man says we should get some food to enjoy while drinking, I agree. I order the tempura shrimp with the sweet chili sauce and he stares at me.
“A woman who can handle her heat?” he asks.
“Oh, of course. I’m very familiar with hot ... things,” I say, trying to steer my mind away from Danya, eating with him, kissing him, feeling him against me. “Plus, with this amazing margarita, beautiful view, and good company, I think we can handle a little heat.”
“I like the way you think,” he says with a wolfish smile. “It might be even more fun to get out of here.”
I twirl my hair, smile, then take another drink of the margarita. “That’s tempting.”
“Is it?”
“There’s just this thing ...” I trace the rim of my glass and suck the salt from my finger. My phone buzzes in my purse, but I ignore it to meet the man’s eyes. There’s something dark in his gaze. I know it after my time with my ex. I know it after seeing the eyes of some men my father represents.
“Oh? What thing is that? Don’t tell me you have an overprotective, untrusting boyfriend who wouldn’t allow you to go to the beach or to a club with a new friend,” he says, leaning his head to the side and pursing his lips.
It’s a challenge. If I say yes, I’m being trained or manipulated. If I say no, then I don’t have a boyfriend who will come to protect me. Either way, he gets an answer on if I’m willing to proceed, if I’m single, if he can whisk me away. If he wasn’t glancing around every five seconds like someone’s going to show up and drive him away, if he hadn’t just sat down without a name, with no information about himself, I might believe he’s a good man.
But that glint in his eyes, the way he’s so nervous about my phone, the line of questions ...
“So?”
“I have a thing about secondary locations,” I laugh as I say it, as if I find it silly myself. “I guess it’s all the true crime my friend watches. I never want to go somewhere after being one place. It just doesn’t seem... safe or wise, you know?”
“Really? Then how do you ever date?”
“I go one place–driving myself there to the place we agree on–and meet with the person. We say good bye at that place and I go home alone. After a few dates, I’ll let them come over,” I answer with a shrug. “It’s okay, it’s a girl thing to worry about secondary locations and being alone with a stranger, no matter how handsome, charming, or funny they are.”
“So you think I’m handsome, charming, and funny?” he asks, leaning forward.
I wink at him. I know how to make a man feel like he’s in charge. It’s how I survived a year with Aaron without having to replace entire walls, just little fist- sized holes. That’s why I’m not questioning my gut, that’s why I sucked up my pride and every rational thought that’s trying to tell me to walk away from Danya and texted him, just to make sure someone is here to keep me safe.
Just as my next margarita arrives–without me asking for it–and the food is put down, a few fingers stroke over my shoulder, delicate. His palm grazes my neck as the man in front of me loses every trace of kindness that was in his expression, glowers at me.
“Oh, Cupcake, are you drunk already?” Danya croons.
I look up at him and smile. I’m tipsy because his hand on the back of my neck, rubbing and teasing my skin feels so good, so perfect, that I think I’m wet from that touch alone, from the sharpness in his glacial eyes. His jaw tightens as he looks at the man I’m sitting with.
“Thank you for keeping my girlfriend safe. She can be a little wild when she drinks,” Danya says, his thumb and fingers digging into the back of my neck. “I’d be happy to pay for everything, your tab as well.”
“I didn’t realize she had a boyfriend, considering she’s here alone,” the man says in a low, threatening voice.
“How could you have known?”
“How could you cross the line?. I know you killed my-”
Danya speaks Spanish, sharp, decisive, unforgiving, but he puts his free hand on the table, moving the knife off it. I bend down, pick up the knife and the fork that’s down there, but keep the knife in my lap.
The man stands up and lifts his shirt, flashing a gun. His eyes flick to me as I make myself sit there. I won’t shake. I won’t be afraid. I won’t move or run or anything else. I’m planted in this seat. I reach forward and take one shrimp, popping it into my mouth as I hold the tail. I watch the stranger as I bite down, set the tail down, chew, and swallow.
I take a slow drink of my margarita and smile. “Secondary locations are a no, Cielo.”
His lip curls and he walks away. Danya’s hand slides along my jaw and he lifts my chin. “How much of that did you understand?”
“None. I only know the basics and some pet names in Spanish,” I answer.
“Good. You should learn some Russian too,” he mumbles.
“Why would I do that?” I ask.
“I have my reasons,” he answers. He leans down. “This one is a necessity, Abby.”
He kisses me, drawing it out, but denying me plenty. His tongue only teases mine, doesn’t go any deeper. After that, he takes the other guy’s seat. “What are we having while you get trashed?”