The Billionaire’s Burden(14)

"These are the best things I've ever tasted." Lewis sighed, breaching the satisfied hush that held the table.

Harry shook his head, eyes gleaming at the praise, "All I did was follow the recipe." He offered with a bashful shrug.

"Harry, you need to work here." I cried, before I realized what I was saying, "You belong in this bakery."

He stared at me, brow creasing slightly, eyes flickering towards Karina, "That’s sweet, Macy, but I'm already employed." He shifted clumsily, smoothing a hand over his head.

"Harry, I agree rather strongly with Lewis." Karina offered, hint of what I almost thought was a real smile on her red lips, "This is the best thing I have ever tasted. You should truly consider this opportunity."

The man's mouth opened slightly, then pressed closed, eyes lowering towards the plate of muffins.

"I suppose, then, if it was really alright to leave Sebastian. I would love to work here, Macy." He said quietly, as though he were afraid we would all turn on him and make this into a huge joke.

"There's nothing that would make me happier." I replied back, reaching over to pat his hand.





Chapter Eight





"You fired my chef?" Sebastian Davis stared at me, blinking those beautiful blues incredulously.

"Well, no, not really." I sputtered, glancing around for the support I knew I wouldn't find.

Karina had naturally chosen this single moment to not be lurking around our home for once and Harry was still at the bakery reviewing the recipes for the new opening tomorrow.

"I mean, he's not working here anymore but he's still working." I couldn't seem to find the words.

How was I going to tell Sebastian that I'd taken his chef and put him to work in my bakery? This, I was certain, was going to be his line in the sand regarding my shop. Everything had come back to it lately.

"What are you saying?" He groaned, crossing his arms over his strong, burly chest. It was hard to see his irritation past his brusque British accent.

"It was Karina!" I suddenly gasped, grasping best I could at any straw that would get me out of his spotlight, "It was all that mother of yours." I sighed, shaking my head and planting my hands on my hips, "She offered Harry a job at the bakery before I could even refuse. And then he looked so happy about it..."

Harry Bircham had definitely seemed at home in my bakery. That content little grin on his old face. It lifted my own spirits to see his happiness. It’d been a good call on Karina's part, I was pretty surprised she even had anything to do with it, honestly.

Just what was that woman’s goal?

"She offered him a job at your bakery?" Sebastian pressed, even more utterly confused than I was.

"You know how she is." I shrugged, clearing my throat as I struggled to come up with a change of topic, "Erratic."

"Even more so lately." Sebastian murmured, frowning, as he turned and walked into the dining room.

I trailed after him after a moment's hesitation, wondering if he'd even want me to follow him, and we sat down at the kitchen table.

For a long time he didn't say anything, and just when I was sure he’d rather be alone, he turned to me, reaching out to take my hand in his smooth grasp.

"We need to talk about some things that happened when I was in London, Macy." He murmured, not meeting my eyes.

He turned over the hand of mine that he held within his warm palm, running his fingers over the flesh in a way that made a shiver roll up my spine.

I almost reeled away from him just to stop this conversation mid breath. I was just a hair away from shooting up, practically with my hands over my ears saying 'la la la' at the top of my lungs, and ran away from the situation.

I didn't want to talk about what happened between himself and Alissa in London. I didn't want to talk about the feelings he had for her, I didn't want to talk about how little he felt for me.

Even though our relationship had no basis at all, it would just be too much to bear. We were married after all, in love or not, and to think of my husband consorting with someone - especially that someone being a beautiful, intelligent redhead - it would be heart breaking.

He squeezed my hand, drawing my gaze hesitantly back to him.

It was dark out, the coldness of the evening seeping in through the large glass windows that circled the dining room. The new moon left a gaping hole in the night sky and little light.

A single bulb was on in the foyer, half illuminating the strong face of my husband before me.

His gaze rested on me, peaceful but focused.

"I didn't go alone." He began, heaving a long, slow sigh that rolled from his lungs like a freight train.

Was he talking about Alissa? I was already completely aware that she'd gone with him. Had he thought that was hidden from me?