Page 5 of Maverick Mogul

I spot Bret in the middle of the room, across from his gorgeous date. Here we go.

“Finally,” he greets me with a scowl.

“One cake, as promised,” I announce proudly, opening the box and lifting out the gorgeous dessert. “Special delivery. And it wasn’t easy to get.”

“What, you want a medal?” Bret smirks, as I reach to hand it over.

And then my elbow is thunked from behind—hard.

I feel the weight leave my hands, and it’s like slow motion, the perfect white disk hurtling through the air. The edible flowers are a blur of violet and yellow. My hands fly out but grip nothing.

SPLAT.

Every gluten-free, dairy-free molecule of cake lands on Bret’s lap, icing side down on black wool pants.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, bolting upward. He pushes the cake off his lap, but it leaves smears of white icing down the crotch, looking exactly like…

Well, like Bret really,reallyloves this restaurant.

The crowd goes silent as everyone turns to stare, and I can’t help it: A strangled giggle escapes my throat.

“You IDIOT!” Bret screeches, turning red with fury. “Can you see what you’ve done?!”

We all can. He starts wiping at the frosting, but it only makes things look more…Enthusiastic.

My giggle turns into a full-on laugh, and even his po-faced date begins to smile.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” someone at my side is saying. Charlie Fox, teenage dream. The elbow bumper himself. He has a horrified look on his unfairly handsome face. “Totally my fault. I’m happy to pay for—”

“No way!” Bret yells, thrusting one finger at me. “She can pay for it, for being incompetent! She lives off my family’s money, but can’t even do her basic job?”

I flush, embarrassed. “That’s no true!” I protest uselessly. I’m very, very good at my job. Please see: That beautiful cake dripping down his front.

But then I see the faces of all the fancy diners surrounding us. They’re not laughing at Bret—they’re laughing atme. After all, I’m the clumsy one who just made a fool of myself. He’s the victim here—of my incompetence.

I wish the ground would open and swallow me up.

“Let’s take a breath here,” Charlie Fox says to Bret, trying to calm him. Sure,hecan be clear and firm. Why not? He’s Charlie Fox, prom king of Hayworth High and, apparently, all of Manhattan. “It’s not her fault that—”

“I’m fine,” I mutter to him, though I feel like I could physically burst from embarrassment. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” Bret’s face is beet red. “This cost you your job. Is that fine? The unemployment line’sfine?”

I want to say that it’ll be better than this, but there’s a lump in my throat. I’ve never felt so humiliated. Every gorgeous person in this gorgeous restaurant is smirking at me, like I’m the entertainment for the night.

A cautionary tale.

“Bret, let’s just go.” Letty says, clearly uncomfortable. Bret shoots me one last nasty look and flees after her, white-smeared crotch and all, going, “Babe. C’mon, babe!”

I watch them go, reality sinking in.

I’m fired. The job I’ve been swallowing my pride to keep these past months? It’s gone now. Which means all my bending over backwards and biting my lip to keep Bret happy has been in vain.

And I’m back where I started, all over again.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Charlie says, as I turn, dejected. His ridiculously handsome face is smiling at me, like this is no big deal. “This is probably a blessing in disguise, if you think about it. I mean, working for that asshole can’t have been fun.”

“Fun?” I echo in disbelief. I stare at him, my anger and humiliation stinging sharper in my veins. “You think I took this job forfun?!”

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