Page 16 of The Billionaire's Cinderella

“Good point,” I say, laughing. “So how’d your night go?”

“It was amazing. Like I knew it would be.”

Poor Bellamy has had a crush on her boss Griffin since the second he hired her a year ago. I give her credit for keeping a lid on her feelings for as long as she has. I think the fact that she’s quitting soon and moving out west to go to law school gave her an unexpected dose of courage, leading to her uncharacteristic boldness with him the other night. She called and confessed everything to me on that phone call I was on when Ryker approached me Friday night. After Bellamy dropped off the documents to Griffin at Bemelmans, she impulsively got a room at the Carlyle, called Griffin, confessed her longstanding crush on him and told him that she wanted them to spend the night together. No questions asked. Griffin, being a man, naturally took her up on her kind offer.

“Well worth it?”

“So well worth it,” she says, her dreamy smile coming through loud and clear in her voice.

I’m thrilled for her. She deserves to have a little fun every now and then. God knows Griffin works her like a dog at the office. Hence, his nickname, the Beast.

“Have you seen him yet? I have a tough time imagining you’re going to sweep all this under some rug and keep working together without any issues.”

“I get a little reprieve today,” she says. “He’s not due for another forty-five minutes or so. Time enough for me to work on my acting skills and pretend I’m Nicole Kidman.”

“You can do it.”

“But get this. He paid for the room. I found out the next morning when I went to check out. He had the charges on my credit card reversed.”

“Nice. Classy gesture.”

“I sure appreciated it as a struggling singleton trying to make her way in the big city. And there’s more. He took my wrap.”

I freeze. The plot thickens.

“He what?”

“My expensive silk and cashmere shawl that I got myself from Nordstrom. He took it.”

“You sure it was him?” I say, startled by this information. I know some men like to keep trophies of their sexual conquests, like panties or something, but this seems different somehow. More significant. More like a memento than a trophy.

“We dropped it on the floor at the beginning of the night. No one else was ever in the room.”

“That’s an interesting development,” I say. “Maybe he’s sleeping with it under his pillow. Getting high off your perfume.”

“As if,” she says, scoffing. “I’d better go. He’ll be here soon.”

“Go with God, then,” I say. “I know you’ve got plenty to keep you busy.”

“So do you. Go bake those pastries. Don’t let the assholes bring you down. Oh, and don’t forget I’ll be in touch later about the desserts for the Hamptons event this weekend. We can finalize things.”

Bellamy selected Valentina’s to handle the dessert bar at the event, bless her. It never hurts for the bakery to get a little exposure among the wealthy set. I’ve been looking forward to it and to flexing my creative muscles with a new pastry or two, but now my heart gives a little pang. Ryker will be there, not that I’ll see him. He’ll be mingling with his guests, doing the rich-guy thing, probably with some sleek supermodel on his arm, and I’ll be in back making sure the pastries are appropriately flaky.

It’s all for the best. I need to remember that.

“You got it,” I say. “Dinner soon?”

“You got it. Love you.”

I hang up, grab what’s left of my tea and immerse myself in mixing a new batch of buttercream for the birthday cake orders. After that, I decide to head out front, thinking that I’ll start on the next batch of pastry dough if Aunt Gilda doesn’t need my help with any new customers. I’m just about to push my way through the swinging door when I hear it.

“…so I had to check the place out,” says a familiar male out in the dining room, prompting an eruption of goosebumps all over my skin. “That was the best ganache I’ve ever had in my life. I thought I’d see what else you’ve got.”

Oh my God. Ryker?

I peer through the door’s round window, making sure to stay out of his line of sight.

Yes! Ryker!

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