Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“This morning, that damn loan shark came by again,” she says, heated.
Oh, shit.
So far, I’ve been the one to handle Markus. The loan “officer” from the company Roman pushed on my parents to keep them from going bankrupt is not a polite man to deal with. He’s rude. Strict. Unforgiving. Every time he’s contacted us at the bakery, I’ve run interference and stood up to him. All those constant mentions of the contract. How he supposedly wants to renegotiate the terms.
“What did he say now?”
“Don’t worry,” Jenni says, exasperated. “I didn’t sign anything.”
“But—”
“And I didn’t let your parents sign anything!” she hurries to add.
I exhale with relief, but it doesn’t last. I’m still tense with this news. We’re riding a fine line between recovery and failure. The bakery’s finances are a mess, but I’m certain that with a legitimate loan and some new sources of revenue, we can stay afloat.
“He’s just an asshole about it,” she confides, lowering her voice. Sounds from her end of the line make me assume she’s walking out of the bakery kitchen to speak with me in the back of the narrow dining area out front for privacy from my parents. Since the financial woes worsened, she’s become my partner in crime, so to speak, to spare the worst news from my parents so their health issues don’t go downhill even more from the stress.
I listen to her explain how Markus harassed her this morning, more or less taunting her that the loans are still there, hanging over our collective heads.
“Thanks,” I tell her at last, feeling exhausted just to have listened to her.
After I end the call with her and start finding ingredients to bake some cookies, I think back over how Roman is the reason the bakery is twisted up with Markus now. It was my ex’s suggestion to go with Markus for financial help, and I have to wonder now if he was so pushy about my parents using someone he knows all so he could have that indirect pressure over me.
Maybe he’s telling Markus to intimidate them at the bakery because I dared to leave him.
I scowl at that, hating him even more. Instead of dwelling on the negativity, I throw myself into baking. It’s always calmed me, and I sink into the comfort of mixing up a batch of something that’ll make this place smell like heaven.
It works, luring Anton from the office when the sky is turning dark in the evening.
“What sorcery is this?” he says dryly, coming to sit at the island.
As an answer, I slide a plate of cookies toward him. I’m not in the mood to talk when my head is full of the bakery, the money, and how his son has been nothing but a jerk to me.
Anton seems to pick up on it, not pressuring me to talk. He doesn’t even waste time on stupid icebreakers.
“And he gave this up,” he says after he’s had a cookie. He gestures at me, not only the plate between us.
I sigh and give him a droll look. “No. I gave him up. Don’t get it twisted.”
He smirks. “Apologies. You left him.”
I nod again. The semantics matter. I was the one he cheated on, but I’ll be damned if Anton thinks I’m grieving the loss of his son.
“I regret not leaving him sooner,” I admit, feeling unusually free to be candid about it with someone other than Jenni for a change.
He rests an elbow on the counter and props his chin in his hand. He’s fully invested in listening to me, and it’s a rarity to have a man’s attention like this. Especially his, when it’s so obvious he’s a busy man.
“I imagine you would,” he says at last, watching me with curiosity.
I want to believe that he’s truly not offended that I’m talking shit about his son. But I’m skeptical. I’m also too high on the chance to speak freely though.
“Based on the little I know about you,” he adds. “I imagine you’d regret being with someone who doesn’t please you when you’re worth more than that.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t need to flatter me. You already got what you wanted last night.”
“Did you?”
I give in to a wicked smile and lower my head to hide it. “Yes. I did.”
His eyes darken as I speak, but I can’t let this veer into a talk about sex, or falling into bed with him again. I’m too carried away with the reminders of how little Roman ever did to make me feel good. One night with his father wowed me. Maybe even ruined me for any other man.
“He never failed to lecture me about being frigid.” I lean my hip against the counter and cross my arms. “Worthless because I couldn’t come for him.”
He raises his brows, still leaning his chin on his hand. Listening. I can’t tell if he’s judging me. If he is, he’s holding it in. Roman often complained about how his father held him to too high of standards, impossible to impress. Even if I am crossing lines to critique Roman, I can’t find the energy to care.