Chapter 14
Sienna
The moment I wake up, my brain is buzzing with ideas.
I didn’t even think about breakfast or sleep, I’m already scribbling on a scrap of paper from the kitchen drawer, making lists and little sketches in the margins.
Ben’s going to take me to the bakery first, and I’ve been planning what I want to see, what I want to change, and what I want to make mine.
Before even seeing the place, because you know, that’s what normal people do.
When I slip downstairs, still in my pajamas but with my hair tied loosely back, Ben is already in the kitchen, casually leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee.
He looks up—his version of casual, which somehow makes my chest tighten.
“You’re up early,” he says, voice low but not sleepy.
“I couldn’t wait,” I admit, trying to hide my excitement. My fingers are clutching the paper like the ideas might fly off it. “I needed to see it first thing.”
“Figured you’d say that. We’ll eat at the bakery. You’re going to need energy if we’re touring the place and you’re running around like a tornado, checking cabinets, counters, floors, deciding on paint colors—”
“Tornado?” I lift my chin. “I’m perfectly calm.”
“That’s the word that comes to mind.” He pushes off the counter, permitting his gaze to fall on my body without any shame. “You’re so not excited that you didn’t get dressed.”
“It’s just us, right?”
His eyes flick up to me. “It’s never just us, sweetheart. There’s always someone watching.”
I should be happy about that, right?
But the way he’s standing there, openly staring at me like he can’t stand not to…I don’t like how half my body is okay with that, while my mind struggles to get myself together.
“So, the next thing you’re going to tell me is to get dressed,” I deadpan, waiting for him to do just that.
“You’d be correct.”
Fine.
Quickly, I get upstairs, throw on a pair of jeans and the first t-shirt my fingers land on, and I’m back downstairs, following Ben to his car with my little paper still clenched in my hand.
His driver takes his sweet time. Meanwhile, I can’t wait to see what kind of building Ben bought for me and what I can do with it.
When we arrive, it all happens so fast. The bakery isn’t shiny or brand new, but it’s solid.
A brick facade with a few cracks in the mortar, tall windows streaked with dust from years of neglect.
The faded awning could use a scrub or maybe a replacement, but it’s charming in a way that makes me imagine what it could become.
I press my hand to the SUV glass, and I hear Ben chuckle a bit.
“We can go inside, princess.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice.
I pop the door open, not bothering to wait for one of Ben’s men to treat me like said princess and walk-run toward the front door.
I shove the door open, finding it empty…but mine.
The counters appear sturdy, the floors are worn but clean, and the vibe feels…right.
Open enough for foot traffic, enough natural light to make the whole place feel alive, even in its slightly shabby state.
It’s perfect.
“I know it’s not perfect,” Ben says softly from behind me, like he’s reading my mind, but the opposite. “But I figured you’d want to make it your own.”
I nod, tracing the lines of the counters with my eyes, imagining paint colors, shelving, and racks for baked goods.
“It’s…it’s more than I expected,” I admit, not overwhelmed, just in absolute awe of how this is all mine.
There’s weight here, potential, and I can feel it in my chest. The kind of responsibility that makes my stomach flutter.
“Here.” A small notepad appears in front of me. “All your ideas aren’t going to fit on that small piece of paper.”
That is so sweet.
Softly plucking it from his fingers, careful not to touch him, now I’m overwhelmed.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
“The place is yours,” he says softly. “Your kingdom. Have at it, princess.”
I begin to move around the room, imagining where all the tables would go, the bakery display, and how we’d make the best of the space.
It’s not huge, it’s cute.
It’s enough.
It’s all I need.
Ben’s men line the walls, keeping out of my way as I go back into the kitchen, the pantry, and the fridges. I make notes of everything that comes to mind for Lucy, hoping I can bring her by tomorrow so we can brainstorm with the blank canvas we have.
It doesn’t feel real.
“Princess,” I hear Ben call out to me, prompting me to head back to the front to find that he has two breakfast sandwiches lying on one of the counters, some orange juice, and fruit. “Come eat, sweetheart. Then, I promise, I won’t bother you until lunch.”
I hesitate, unsure if I should, but he doesn’t take no for an answer. And I don’t want to fight with him while I’m trying to enjoy just being in the space.
Now, he’s brought breakfast so that I don’t need to leave.
He’s not sweet.
He’s cunning.
Approaching the counter, Ben doesn’t ask for permission when he effortlessly lifts me up in the air and gently places me along the edge of the surface.
He unwraps my sandwich, the smell of eggs and bacon enough to make me forget that Ben is trying to butter me up to give him an heir.
For a bakery and protection for my family.
Current time, I couldn’t tell you if it was fair or not. I’m too excited about plans for this place.
“So,” he starts casually. “How long have you been thinking about a bakery?”
I take a bite of the sandwich, savoring it before answering. “Since I was…I don’t know, sixteen? But I never thought I’d get the chance to actually do it.” I glance around, letting my eyes sweep over the room. “I mean, I’ve baked plenty with my grandmother, sure. But this…this is real.”
He nods slowly, “Feels different when it’s yours. Not borrowed, not temporary.”
For a moment, we sit in silence, just taking in the space. The sounds of the street outside filter through the windows, and the faint chatter of people walking by.
It’s almost peaceful.
Almost.
“You’re quiet,” he observes, leaning a little closer. “Thinking about paint, or planning every inch?”
“Both,” I admit. “I have ideas…a lot of them. I just don’t know if they’ll work.”
“They’ll work. I’ll make sure they do.”
I blink at him while I chew, completely caught off guard by his generosity and encouragement.
“So, after we figure this out, you and Lucy want to start moving things around? Shopping for supplies? Planning paint?”
“Yeah. We’ll need colors, shelves, display racks… I want it to be functional but cozy with a few plants.”
“Plants,” he repeats, smirking. “Gotta have a touch of life. Makes it feel like it’s yours, not just four walls and counters.”
I glance at him, my stomach fluttering.
He’s…paying attention.
Not in a creepy way, not hovering, but actually noticing what I want. And it’s disarming.
It’s working.
“Don’t think this means I’m suddenly going to like you,” I say, keeping my tone flat. “I’m still doing this for my own reasons.”
“Of course,” he says smoothly, finally taking a bite of his own sandwich. “I just enjoy watching you get excited about something.”
“Why?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because this isn’t real.”
“Isn’t it? You’re going to be marrying me soon enough.”
A wave of anxiety slices through my veins. “Not by choice.”
“And how do you think princesses wed back in the old days, huh? Every woman is waiting for the man who will sweep her off her feet, make her happy, and spend every day doting on her.”
“Not me,” I mutter, stealing another bite of my sandwich. “I just want the bakery.”
Ben chuckles. “Of course you did. But, I’d bet you a year’s salary that you’re going to start wanting that happy part.”
I bristle at his commentary because I’m not a girl who lives in a fairytale world. “You haven’t even met my grandmother yet for her approval. Who said anything about happy?”
“You wanna make a wager on that, princess?”
“No,” I immediately get out. “There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere close to my grandmother.
“Why? Aren’t I protecting and supporting her?”
“Because that was our deal.”
He leans back on the counter, settling into one of his smug little victories. “You make it sound so cold.”
“It is cold. You don’t get to play knight in shining armor. You bought my freedom. You’re renting my life.”
His eyes spark, like he enjoys me snapping at him, which only makes me grind my teeth harder.
“And yet,” he says, voice soft now. “You’re benefiting from my investment.”
I want to scream at him. I want to tell him none of this means anything, that the bakery doesn’t erase the chains tying me to him.
But the truth is, my fingers itch to keep writing lists, and my chest is tight with the dangerous mix of exhaustion and excitement.
“Is this mine or yours?” I ask because I don’t want to keep playing games. “I want an open line of communication.”
“Yours.”
“If you have me offed tomorrow, it’s still yours. My whole fortune is yours, sweetheart.”
I gape at him. “What?” He takes that moment to take another bite of his breakfast sandwich just to mess with me. “Stop teasing me, Benedikt.”
“I’m not.”
I narrow my eyes, searching his face for the catch. There’s always a catch. But he only looks calm, like he’s winning some secret game I don’t understand.
“I don’t want your fortune,” I convey. “Just the bakery.”
“Then don’t kill me.”
Ha.
Like I’m capable of such a feat.
That’s too much wasted energy, and I’d rather spend it here.
I need something that’s mine.
Even if it means surviving him to keep it.