Page 24 of Tasting Sin

I nodded curtly. “Thanks for helping,” I said, turning on my heel to go back for the next load.

“I’ve been trying to tell you I’ll help you.” He smirked, slightly cocking his head to the side like he was proud. I scoffed, earning a loud laugh from Ronan before he followed behind me back through the thick stares that didn’t seem to faze him. Why would they? “So how are you doing?” he asked when he grabbed another armful of containers.

“Oh, you mean since someone threw a brick through my window less than a week ago?” I asked, hoisting one of the remaining towers of sweets. I let them settle in my arms before I half-shrugged. “I’m doing okay.”

Ronan side-eyed me, narrowing his eyes slightly before he relaxed, but where there was amusement a moment before was now a cold shield. “I asked a friend of mine to keep an eye on the bakery for you,” he said, his tone matching the sudden drop.

I gaped at him, frozen in place when he took off toward the door with his arms full. “Ronan.” I hurried to catch up to him while keeping even steps so no cupcakes fell over and I didn’t trip. “I told you I don’t need help.”

“It’s for my peace of mind.” He stopped suddenly in front of the door, and I almost ran into him.

I stepped past him into the building, still looking over my shoulder like I was no longer worried I might trip over thin air and drop cupcakes all over the marble floors. “What does that mean?” I asked when he grunted and followed behind me.

“I just don’t like it,” he said, setting the stack down on the table next to the others. When he turned to face me, his stare was intense. I almost missed the table setting my own stack down when I didn’t look away from him. “It puts you in a vulnerable place, and the cops didn’t seem like they knew anything.”

“I mean, it sure seemed like they knew you,” I mumbled under my breath.

Ronan exhaled heavily and very slowly, and my stomach sank. “I’ve met Detective Stanton a few times.” He didn’t expand on it, but my curiosity piqued. I stopped caring so much about the cupcakes that might pay for me to keep my bakery.

“Why?” I leaned forward, not caring who was around us but lowering my voice anyways. “Are you an undercover cop or some sort of private investigator or something? Maybe you’re a suspect.” A roar of laughter burst from my chest when he lifted both brows, clearly amused by my brainstorming.

“Something like that,” he said.

“Something like what?” Ava asked, rushing up behind me short of breath. “Sorry I’m late,” she added when I spun around to face her.

“Nothing,” Ronan answered, and I whipped back around to face him. “I should let you ladies get set up. I’m going to go check on a couple things. Let me know if you need anything.”

I watched him walk away, noting the way he fixed both sleeves and adjusted his jacket on his shoulders. The picture from the book in my bedroom flashed across my mind, and I thought about the Ronan who had his arm around my brother versus the one who just walked away like he owned half of Boston.

“What in the world did I miss?” Ava asked, pulling me from my memory-induced haze.

I shrugged, moving quickly to start organizing cupcakes on the table. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I just got here.”

Ava tilted her head, looking between me and the direction Ronan had disappeared. “Don’t give me that. The two of you looked like you were either about to fight or something when I walked up.”

“It was nothing,” I said, gathering the empty-for-now containers. I could feel my best friend’s stare drilling through me while I moved, and I sighed. “He told me he asked one of his friends to keep an eye on the bakery.” I rolled my eyes.

“What, like a cop?” Ava seemed as confused as I was, and I thought again about his exchange with Detective Stanton. Something like that.

I shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ll deal with it later,” I added quickly when I saw Ronan coming back.

He wasn’t alone. Ronan crossed the ballroom with an older, elegant woman floating next to him. Her brunette hair sat perfectly styled on top of her head, and she wore a floor-length, cream-colored gown that made her look almost angelic. “Nellie,” Ronan said, approaching us. “This is my mother, Isabella.”

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” I said, half-curtseying before I stopped myself. Did I really try to curtsey like she was royalty? What the hell was I doing? “Congratulations. It’s a lovely party.”

She laughed, throwing her head back. Every curl stayed perfectly in place when she did. “Please, call me Isabella.” Her eyes dropped with sympathy, and my stomach filled with concrete. “I haven’t seen you since you were so young. Not since…” She paused the same way everyone did when they didn’t know what to say to someone who had experienced a sudden loss—let alone three. “I’m so sorry for everything you went through.”

I cringed. “Thank you, really.” It was my normal response, since it was nicer than telling someone I’d rather they just didn’t bring it up at all. Nobody wanted to sit with their own discomfort like that. “Would you like a cupcake?” I gestured to the display behind me, and Isabella smiled softly.

She shook her head. “Not right now,” she said, giggling. She brushed her hands over the front of her gown and winked. “But later, when all these guests stop looking at me? I’ll have two.”

With another laugh, she turned to walk away, but Ronan didn’t follow. Instead, he continued to stare at me. “Sorry about that,” he said with a sympathetic smile that told me he thought she’d be more interested in my desserts than in my headline-worthy past.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.” It wasn’t a lie. I was used to being a constant subject of sympathy. It was something I’d worked for a decade to get out from under. “I know why you hired me tonight.” I just want to help you.

A crooked smile tugged at his cheek. Before he could say whatever thought had caused the smile to become a grin, a man threw his arm over his shoulder. Ronan stiffened, grabbing his wrist and locking it in his grip to free himself. “You cocksucker,” he grunted when recognition crossed his face.

“Oh, relax. Who did you think it was?” The man elbowed Ronan, and when he saw the trays of macarons, he pointed with childlike excitement. “I’m Enzo. Ronan’s cousin,” he said, sticking his hand out to me.

---