Chapter 11
Saffron
The minute Tyler Hawthorne saw me, he marched over to where I was standing, grabbed my hand, and practically dragged me to a table in the back corner of the bakery, to the surprise of his sister.
“What are you doing here?” Even though he sat on a chair opposite me, he still locked his vice grip around my hand.
If a passerby didn’t see him manhandle me here, a slight glance might have them assume we were lovers, the way our hands clasped across the table.
I wriggled my arm to futile results. “Let go of me.”
“Are you stalking me now? Is that it?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Let go of me!” I pulled my hand at the same time he released it, making me jerk back.
“How did you find me?”
“People are allowed to walk into bakeries and buy things. Last I checked, this is a public place.” I crossed my arms. “Trust me, you’re not the center of my world.” And if I had known your sister owned this place, I wouldn’t have come here.
He scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
“Believe whatever you want to believe.”
Tyler glared at me. It was obvious he thought the reason I was here was because of him. Which was rich considering I wanted nothing to do with him. “Is that why you came so late?” he continued. “Or were you here the entire time?”
“You’ve taken crazy pills. All I did was walk into a bakery and order food!”
He glared at me. His jaw was ticking, assessing me as though he was deciding what to do with me.
I glanced at the door. It was farther away than where we were.
I could dash for the exit and leave this insane man alone.
But I had a feeling he would follow me and make an even more embarrassing scene if he blocked my exit.
Before I could decide on my next course of action, Ivy came carrying a tray with my order.
“A croiclair and a cappuccino to go.” She placed the tray on the table, startling Tyler, who had not seen his sister coming.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, expecting her to leave, but she remained standing, her glimmering expectant gaze on her brother.
Tyler seemed to have a delayed reaction to her presence, and after a while, he said, “What do you want?” Like a brother irritated by a little sister.
His caustic attitude did not bother her. In fact, she smiled brightly and said, “I’ve never seen one of your girlfriends before.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend; she’s a business partner.”
“Oh. I thought—oh. Well? Are you going to introduce me?”
Tyler gave her a tight smile. “Ivy, this is Saffron Channing, our interior decorator. Saffron, this is Ivy, my sister.” The words sounded as though they were being pulled from his teeth.
Ivy got the hint that he didn’t want her around and said her goodbyes. After she left, I said, “Business partner? Does anyone in your family know we’re married?”
“No,” he said curtly. “You’re a dirty little secret, and I intend to keep it that way.”
“Fine. Will you let me go? I don’t think you want your sister to suspect something going on between us. Who knows, I might go over to her and tell her we’re married.”
“Try that, and you can say goodbye to our business deal.”
He was serious. That was obvious. I raised my hands in surrender.
The rich and earthy smell of coffee wafted into my nostrils, inviting me to taste it.
The croiclair in the little windowed box looked delicious as well.
I picked up the coffee and took a sip. The hot drink went down my throat smooth and creamy.
Holy fuck. It’s going to suck not having to come here anymore.
I opened the croiclair box and pulled apart the pastry, flakes and cream dropping into the box.
The pastry broke down smoothly in my mouth; notes of custard, fresh cream, and croissant pastry danced on my palate.
Gosh, this was good. No wonder this place was full.
My eyes closed as I devoured the rest of the croiclair, and when I opened my eyes, Tyler’s gaze was on my mouth, his eyes cloudy with… desire?
No way. Obviously, I was misconstruing his emotions. If there was any desire in his eyes, it was a desire to kill me. It was unnerving still and made me feel exposed. I closed the box, grabbed the coffee, and stood up. Tyler got up as well.
“See you tomorrow, champ,” I said.
I thought he was going to follow me, drop a threat in my ear before I got out of the door, but he didn’t. Although I felt his gaze on me until I left the patisserie.
◆◆◆
The following week was a flurry of work, work, work, and nothing else.
After Tyler approved the changes, we got to recreating the design, contacting suppliers, and looking for the best material that would pass Tyler’s exacting standards.
Almost everything was done until we realized that the material needed for the sofas was only available in Italy.
“Can’t they ship it to us?” Malaya asked when I told her the representative of the factory that makes the leather wanted me to come to their factory.
“Apparently, a customer has to make an inspection of the leather in person, especially if they’re buying it for the first time.”
Malaya groaned. “Hawthorne demanded full-grain Italian leather for the sofas. We can’t skimp on that.”
“Yeah. One of us has to go.”
“One of us? Ha!” She shook her head. “The sofas are your thing. You have to go, my friend.”
I banged my head on the desk. Traveling was not my favorite thing. I didn’t mind going to places, but my God, airports and cheap hotels in foreign countries were frustrating, especially on a business trip.
I raised my head and pouted at Malaya. “I don’t want to,” I said. “Can you go instead? Pretty please?”
“Nope. Not even if you put a cherry on top. I need to work with our doors guy and make sure he’s not ruining the designs.
And then there’s the carpet shipment that’s arriving tomorrow.
I’ve got a lot on my plate, unless you want to do all of that.
And you can’t give this to Penny. She’s good, but she’s new. ”
At that moment, our newest employee knocked on the open door.
The blonde, plus-sized woman with an effervescent smile bounced in when I nodded for her to enter.
She had a laptop in hand. “I need your approval of the bathroom renderings that just came through,” she said to both of us.
Malaya shrugged as she waved Penny over to her desk.
“See? Now that Penny’s desk is officially full with the bathroom designs, it’s all on you. ”
“Ugh. I hate this.”
“What’s the issue?”
“Saffron over there doesn’t want to visit the beautiful country of Italy? Can you imagine the horror?”
“I’ll have to spend the entire trip in a crowded economy seat, and then sleep in a tiny hotel room, and then visit a factory that smells like a big fart. Hardly a romantic trip.”
“Get H&H to book the flight and hotel for you. They’ll probably put you in business class. They’ve got the money.”
That wasn’t a bad idea at all. I sent an email to the logistics manager at H&H telling her about the trip. She was a pleasant and efficient woman who responded promptly to emails, but she took longer this time. I went on with my work, and when it neared lunchtime, I got an email from her.
I meant to book a hotel and flight for you, but you’re in luck. Mr. Tyler Hawthorne is visiting Italy on a business trip and has agreed to accommodate you on his private jet and at the hotel where he will reside.