The Billionaire’s Burden(13)

She took in the bright and cheery paint job that the redhead had ordered, and the massive amount of mess in the kitchen.

With a dainty gasp she walked closer, staring at the flour explosion.

"We tried to make muffins..." I eventually mumbled, flinching in expectation of her ire.

Instead, the woman grabbed her cellphone out of her pocket, tittering at me slightly.

"Hello?" She sighed into the phone, "Yes we have a bit of a disaster here. We need you. Yes, it was Macy."

From the other end I could hear a familiar voice, though it wasn’t quite loud enough to place. She hung up the phone, sliding it back into her purse as she rest it carefully on the counter.

"Now then, what exactly are you hoping to accomplish here?" She pressed, lowering herself regally into one of the white chairs.

Her leg crossed at the knee, hands folding in her lap as she gazed between Lewis and I expectantly.

"Uh, accomplish?" Lewis interjected, cheeks going red, "N-nothing at all! I’m not looking for anything!" He said hastily, holding up his hands.

Karina Davis stared at him in confusion, finally glancing back towards me worriedly. Her eyebrow rose just a hair.

I cleared my throat, shooting him a warning look to keep his mouth shut. We definitely did not need to discuss what happened between us in front of my mother in law.

"He's right." I finally managed to say, "He doesn't want anything out of this, but I do. This was my parent's bakery and I want to see it set straight."

"Admirable." Karina replied, though her voice was bored and condescending, "But how do you think you'll manage that when you clearly don't have the necessary skills for it?"

I opened my mouth, hoping for another smart response. Instead, there was nothing.

She was right, after all. I didn't have the mind for business to keep things running smoothly and I certainly didn't have the baking talent to attract new clientele.

What did I have to offer? What did I even want to come of this?

Behind us, the door jingled once more as I turned to look over my shoulder.

Chef Harry Bircham stood there, waving an awkward hello and a slight bow towards Karina as though she were a queen.

"Hello, everyone." He said, British tone quiet with a slight shyness. He was never sure how to act around Karina, the woman was volatile and unpredictable.

"Look at what these two have done." The dark haired woman sighed, gesturing towards the extremely chaotic kitchen, "For muffins, of all things."

Harry arched a grey eyebrow, slowly walking forward towards the mess. He ran a finger over the counter, picking up one of the muffin bricks and tossing it into the trash.

"Ah," He said simply, "You were very...determined."

I laughed sheepishly, sitting down beside Karina as Lewis hurriedly began wiping off the counters.

"Why is Harry here?" I asked Karina interestedly, glancing over my shoulder as the chef flipped through my mother's recipes.

"I called him here." She shrugged, watching him as well, "He rather fits in, doesn't he?" She continued, "He loves baking you know."

"I'm not sure I understand." I said quietly, lowering my voice in the hopes Harry wouldn't here, "What are you trying to say?"

Since when did Karina take any interest in what Harry or any of her other staff was interested in?

"I'm trying to say, dear," She replied, scathing eyes narrowing on my own in that cold way that made my heart stop, "That you should consider offering Harry a job as your baker."

"He works for Sebastian." I said, surprised, "He already has a job."

"Sebastian doesn't care who cooks his meals." Karina shrugged, "But Harry cares where he works, and he's rather fond of you."

Frowning, I glanced back towards the grey haired man, watching as he rinsed out one of our mixing bowls and placed it back on the counter. Lewis hung around him, peering over his shoulder curiously as the chef began to dump ingredients in one by one.

"Did you mix the dry and wet ingredients separately?" Harry asked, glancing at me, "That’s very important, you know."

Lewis shot me a pointed stare, arms crossing over his chest.

"I'll take that as a no." The elderly man sighed, shaking his head.

It seemed like only minutes later that a set of my mother's raspberry muffins sat in front of us. Soft steam rose from the warm pastries, smell wafting over us like a sweet blanket.

The moment of truth, however, was only just beginning. Could Harry really replicate my mother's recipe? It was hard to imagine anyone being able to fill her shoes, but if it was someone, I wouldn't doubt Harry Bircham in the slightest.

I took a muffin, breaking it apart as I slowly munched off the edge. Crisp on top, buttery on the inside, it practically melted in my mouth. A surprised moan of sheer happiness left my lips as I took another bite. Even Karina, who I’d never seen eat more than a morsel, ate an entire one of Harry's amazing muffins.