Leo (Members From Money Season 2 #144)

Chapter 2

He felt the jolt straight through his heart as soon as she opened the door. There she was standing with the lights behind her, wearing just a simple pair of faded denims and peach colored t-shirt with the ‘Tasty Pastry’ logo stitched onto the left breast pocket.

Her thick dark brown hair was piled on top of her head and secured with a pencil, with untidy tendrils curling all around her face. And to him, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“You are baking.” He had to force himself to appear casual.

“I’m always baking.”

“You have flour on your cheek.” He touched the spot lightly and just stopped himself from pulling her into his arms. She smelled of cinnamon and chocolate.

“Part of the package.” She smiled at him, and he felt his world shifted. “Come in. I made linguini. You came straight from New York?”

He followed her as she wound her way through tables and chairs and past the cash register and into a cavernous kitchen strewn with tools and signs of her work.

“I did, yes. You did not have to go through the trouble…“

“Sit.” She gestured towards the table lined up next to the cupboard.

Hiding a smile, he did just that and realized that this petite bundle of energy was the only one who spoke to him like that.

“Tell me what you think,” she passed him a plate with a tasty smelling pile of pasta and herbs. “I am experimenting with a new blend of seasoning.” She turned back to the stove and started wiping it down. “Did I tell you I am serving lunch now?”

“No!” He tasted the meal and lifted his brows. “This is excellent. Reminds me of a small café I went to in Venice.”

She blew out a breath and whirled to dig out a bowl. “Water or tea? I don’t have any of your fancy wines.”

“Water is good.” He dug into the meal with gusto. He had eaten on the plane, but this was the most delicious meal he had had in ages. She poured water and handed it to him and was about to go into the freezer when he stopped her.

“Eat with me.”

“I have to….”

“Sherrian.” His deep voice had her digging her hands into the wide pockets of her soiled apron.

Blowing out a breath, she dished out some of the pasta and sat across from him.

“How are you?” He asked quietly, sensing she was finding it difficult to broach the subject uppermost on her mind.

“Just fine and dandy.” She put down her fork and folded her elegant hands on the counter. “And that’s a damn lie.” Turning her head, she looked around the space. The counter where she had piled paraphernalia, the bags of flour, the food coloring she had been experimenting with, and the overall scent of baking that filled the air.

“I always knew I wanted to be a pastry chef.” She murmured, swinging her gaze back to him. “I used to pester my mother with questions and demanded tea and baking sets. She was a good cook herself, and I enjoyed watching her.” She was silent for a minute, reflecting on the past.

“They were killed in a vehicular crash when you were just fifteen.”

She nodded. “To her credit, Aunt Gloria stepped up and took me in. She was childless herself and married to her first husband.” A smile touched her lips. “Good old Uncle Hubert, he was a nice enough person but was never a match for her.”

Easing out a breath, she stared at the man seated across from her and wondered what insanity had possessed her to even think of embroiling him in her plans.

Leo Coleman was a self-made billionaire with looks to match. What she was planning to ask him was crazy, but she had no other choice.

“The favor I am going to ask of you, please feel free to say no. If you do, I promise that nothing will change between us. I will probably try and beg…”

“Sherrian.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, so here is the thing. I love this place. It is kind of my life and I want to do so much with it. I would like you to agree to enter into a fake marriage with me.” She rushed to add.

To his credit, he did not react – well, not much, except the slight jolting of his hand holding the glass of water. But inside he was a mass of nerves and shock, interspersed with hope.

Could this be an answer to his prayers?”

“It is the only way I am going to get the money from my aunt. She wants everything done by two weeks’ time, after which she is going on her cruise.

The reason I asked is because you were saying to me the last time that you were tired of women chasing after you with the hope of becoming Mrs. Leo Coleman.”

She spread her hands wide. “it would be beneficial to both of us, and we would not have to live together. We could do this and in a month or after I receive the money from my aunt, we could part ways.”

Not live together? He was damn well going to make sure that happens!

“Leo?”

Leo carefully set his glass down, his mind racing with the implications of Sherrian's proposal. The idea was wild, completely out of the blue, and yet, it held a certain appeal.

His thoughts quickly turned to the years of dodging persistent suitors and the endless stream of women hoping to stake a claim on his fortune. A fake marriage could be a viable solution, but was he ready to take such a drastic step?

"What you're suggesting is..., unconventional, to say the least," he said slowly, capturing her gaze with an intensity that belied his calm words.

"I know." She nodded, her eyes pleading for him to understand the desperation that had driven her to this point. "But it's the only way I can save this place. My aunt has always been a stickler for tradition, and she will not release the funds unless she believes I'm settling down and building a future."

Leo leaned back in his chair, considering her words. The bakery was indeed Sherrian's heart and soul, and he had seen firsthand the passion she poured into every dish. The thought of her losing it all was unacceptable.

And if he could help her, while also gaining some respite from the constant romantic pursuits..., perhaps it wasn't such a crazy idea after all.

"Alright," he said finally, his voice steady. "I'll do it. But there will be conditions. We need to draw up a contract, lay out all the terms clearly. This must be a mutual agreement with no misunderstandings."

A look of profound relief washed over Sherrian's face, and she nodded eagerly. "Of course, whatever you need. Thank you, Leo. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Leo offered her a small smile, his mind already strategizing the next steps. "Let's meet tomorrow to discuss the details. For now, let us finish this meal and talk about happier things."

Sherrian's smile widened, and for the first time that evening, she looked genuinely hopeful. "Deal," she said, lifting her glass in a toast. "To new beginnings."

"To new beginnings," Leo echoed, clinking his glass against hers. As they resumed their meal, a new sense of camaraderie settled between them, binding them together in their shared resolve to face the challenges ahead.

His mind was on the fact that he was finally getting her to a place that offered him hope. The prospect of assisting Sherrian and witnessing her joy was a beacon amidst his otherwise tumultuous life.

It wasn't just about the convenience of a fake marriage or the reprieve from relentless suitors; it was about the subtle but profound connection he felt with Sherrian. He admired her tenacity, her unwavering dedication to her craft, and the warmth she exuded even in moments of uncertainty.

As they chatted and laughed, discussing their favorite recipes and childhood memories, Leo felt a strange sense of destiny. Perhaps this unorthodox arrangement would lead to something greater than either of them had anticipated. He looked at Sherrian, her face alight with excitement, and silently vowed to protect and cherish this newfound alliance.

“Wait!” She held up a hand suddenly, causing him to blink. “Are you seeing someone?”

His mind drifted to the woman he had left in bed just this morning.

“Not anymore.”

She stared at him quizzically and opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it.

“That’s tidy, then!” She murmured, waving a hand in dismissal.

“Regarding the living arrangements,” he began casually, determined to settle this before he left. “Won’t your aunt want proof that this is not something you put together for her benefit? My townhouse is quite large with plenty of rooms.”

She stared at him with a frown.

“And I have a very large kitchen,” he prompted.

“I would not want to put you out,” she objected.

“You wouldn’t be. I am hardly there anyway, and this would convince your aunt that this is a genuine arrangement. Think about it?”

She nodded slowly, uncomfortable with the idea of living with him. “Are you certain you want to take this on? I mean, this will benefit me more than it will you. In fact, this is going to put a crimp in your style as a bachelor.”

Picking up his glass, he slowly sipped water and thought about his response. He was determined to take it slowly. It was obvious she was not ready for what he had in mind, but he was hoping that with them in the same space, it could come naturally.

“Perhaps I am tired of the whole dating scene and want to give it a break.” His blue-green eyes twinkled. “It might be that you are doing me a favor.”

She snorted at that and rose to clear the dishes. He had cleaned his plate, but she had barely touched hers, showing him that she was still unsettled.

“Sherrian?”

“Hmm?” She looked up from the water she was running in the sink.

“I am not being pressured into anything, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

Turning off the tap, she turned to face him. “You know what happened with Greg two years ago.”

He nodded, careful to keep the tension he was feeling from showing. He did not want the ghost of her dead fiancé between them and wished she had not brought it up.

“After the devastation, I promised myself that I would concentrate on building my business. I wanted to concentrate on me. Ingrid gave me a chance and I am so completely grateful to her, but I want this place to reflect my style.”

She smiled slightly. “I take daring risks, do my research and combine ingredients that seems iffy, but I want this place to be the talk of the goddamned town. That is the only reason I am doing this, Leo. I need the money and would do almost anything to get it.”

She held up a soapy hand. “I am sorry, but I have to say this to make it clear. It is just an arrangement, a temporary one. Greg broke my heart and my trust and it is not going to be easy for me to trust another man, not right now. I just want you to know.”

He controlled his anger by sheer will and somehow managed to appear nonchalant.

“Got it.” He rose, indicating it was time to leave, and she wiped her hands in her apron.

“Are you leaving so soon. I just have a few things to do before that can happen for me.” She walked him to the door in silence. “Uhm, will you be open to meeting my aunt? I am planning to tell her tomorrow.”

“Of course. Just call and let me know when and I will rearrange my schedule.” He was about to open the door when she touched his arm.

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft with sincerity. “I really mean it. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“I believe I have some idea,” he offered her a small smile before turning away and leaving.

She locked the door behind him and leaned on the glass. He said ‘yes’! She would enter into this arrangement and receive the money in short order. Afterwards, she would be free to do whatever she pleased. And release Leo from his obligations. Because no matter what he said, a man like that would not remain single for long.

A frown touched her brow as she recalled that she had not asked him about the legal ramifications. Would his lawyers have to be involved? She knew a man like him had a fleet of them on his payroll. She was going to have to remember to ask him about it. But the main thing, the most important thing was that he had agreed.

“Yes!” Pumping her fist in the air, she looked around the dining area, anticipating the changes she would be making.

*****

“Lights.” He ordered as soon as he stepped into the lofty foyer. Shrugging out of his jacket, he slung it carelessly over the elegant entrance table, next to the coat closet. His housekeeper would see to hanging it up when she arrived in the morning.

He felt anger and let down. His joy at the proposition Sherrian had mentioned was dimming. She had told him some hard truths and he was finding it difficult to swallow.

It sounded like she was still in love with the bastard. She had told him in no uncertain terms that he should not be looking for anything else. She just wanted the money and that was it.

Striding along the hallway, his boots striking the glossy blue and green tiles, he went into the living room where a small fire was simmering. It was still too early for a fire, but his housekeeper knew he preferred the warm glow rather than the bright overhead lights.

Moving towards the recessed cabinet, he touched the button and grabbed a bottle of his favorite bourbon and a glass. Taking both with him, he went to sit on the chair in front of the fire. Toeing off his shoes, he stretched his feet out and poured a full glass.

His head was still spinning from his very hectic schedule, and he was tired. Bone weary actually and it was not so much from the activities of the day, so much as the emotions warring inside him. he had certainly not expected a proposal of marriage from her, albeit a fake one.

He would have preferred she had called him over to tell him that she wanted to start something up with him. He had been waiting two bloody years.

Tossing back the drink, he relished the glow in his throat and the burn in his gut and poured another. He should have said screw it and made his move before now. But he had thought it would be better to give her time.

Time for what? He thought angrily. To become further mired down in her sense of betrayal and mistrust? What in the hell was he supposed to do?

Just offer her the use of his place and keep his distance? He was damn well not going to be doing that. With that resolve in mind, he finished the rest of the drink and settled back in the chair, a frown on his brow.

The crackling of the fire filled the quiet room, its sporadic pops and hisses a soothing backdrop to the tumult in his mind. He reached for the glass once more, but hesitated, his hand hovering over the polished surface of the table.

How had things come to this? The woman he had waited for, the woman he had silently cherished, now saw him as nothing more than a means to an end, a financial salvation in the form of a temporary charade.

His thoughts drifted back to the moment she had made her proposition. Her eyes had been earnest, her voice unwavering, yet there had been a flicker of something else - doubt, perhaps? Or was it fear? He could not be sure.

All he knew was that he would agree to any terms if it meant he could have her in his life, even if only for a brief, illusionary period.

Rising from the chair, he paced the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor. He had to find a way to turn this situation around, to transform their sham engagement into something real, something lasting.

But how? She had made it clear that she did not want anything more from him than his financial assistance. Was it possible to change her mind?

A plan began to form in his thoughts, a bold and audacious scheme that could either win her heart or drive her further away. He would have to tread carefully, balancing his desire with a respect for her wishes.

But he was determined to try. He would show her, through his actions and his unwavering support, that he was more than just a temporary solution to her problems. He was her future.

With renewed resolve, he set the glass down and headed towards his study. There were preparations to be made, and he needed to ensure that everything was in order before he approached her again. He would not lose her to the shadows of her past. He would fight for her, for them, and he would not rest until he had secured her love.

As the night wore on, he worked tirelessly, the glow of the fire a distant reminder of the warmth and comfort he sought. He had waited two years; he could wait a little longer. But this time, he would not stand idly by. This time, he would act.

And with that, the first light of dawn began to creep through the windows, casting a gentle glow over his determined features. The battle for her heart had begun.

*****

She was revved. A few minutes after he left, she had found herself unable to concentrate on the baking. And had started making notes in her little book. Ingrid often teased her about the jottings she put down, but they were important to her.

Plans for the shop. Plans for her future. She could already see the money in her bank account. She would put in more tables and chairs. There was certainly space for it.

A few privacy booths. Make the glass cases displaying what she liked to call her work of art much bigger. Have tasting parties. Advertise on the various channels, perhaps hire someone to do the paperwork.

She shook her head. Definitely hire someone to do the damn paperwork, something she hated. But Ingrid was lousy at it, and it had been left up to her to take up the slack.

She resented spending even a minute crunching numbers when she could be creating a new and delicious pastry. She was an artist and a chef, not a damn accountant. Ingrid had been comfortable to allow things to stay just the way they are, she was not. She wanted to get bigger and better.

And as soon as she received the money, she was going to go for it. Thanks to Leo, it was soon to become a reality.

Turning in a slow circle, she made some more jottings. She might change the wallpapers. They had been there since she came to work here and looked a little dingy.

After her studies, she had taken a trip to Paris and Italy and noted the gaily decorated interiors of the small cafes. She wanted something like that. Cheerful colors, bold, but not brassy.

She liked to believe that people should have pleasant surroundings when they are having a meal, even if’s just coffee and croissant.

Putting the pencil into her mouth, she gnawed on the wood absently as she continued to look around. Leo was right. Aunt Gloria was not just going to cheerfully hand over the money on the announcement of their ‘marriage’. The woman was ornery enough to want to see where they were living. And might even want to attend the wedding.

She would suggest that they take a trip to Vegas or ask Leo if he knew of anyone willing to perform a fake ceremony. The person would have to be discreet of course. After all, Leo Coleman was a particularly important man, and it would not do for it to be leaked to the press that he was involved in something like this.

That was what was bothering her. She could do damage to his reputation. Why in the hell had she asked him? And why had he agreed? Yes, she knew they both had their reasons, but what if something leaked? “Oh Lord.” She whispered. “Am I doing the right thing?”