Page 46 of Craving

FIFTEEN

They slept in their own rooms, and Camilla woke up feeling like a pit had opened in her stomach, an aching hunger that couldn’t be sated with food.

She still tried, though. She baked muffins and ate two of them piping-hot before hearing the first rush of water upstairs that told her that Marlon was awake.

They shuffled around each other as Camilla’s skin heated. A brush of his hand on her lower back was enough to make her pant, but all Marlon gave her was a curl of his lips and a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“See you tonight,” he said, and then he was gone before her brain could form words.

This was getting out of control. Shaking her head, Camilla finished getting ready and headed to the bakery. She was happy to see a bustling early crowd, with the espresso machine hissing and a line forming at the counter. Tying her apron on, Camilla painted a bright smile on her face and joined her staff behind the counter to help serve customers.

She’d let Frankie intimidate her on Friday, but she wasn’t broken. If he insisted on extorting ten thousand bucks from her, she’d pay him off then tell him to go to hell.

When the rush had died down, Camilla headed to the back and settled at one of the workstations at the cooler end of the kitchen, away from the ovens. She brought up a picture of Fred and Nadia’s cake topper and got to work crafting a placeholder out of modeling chocolate. Fred’s employee had sent over detailed photos and measurements for that exact purpose. Once she had the topper replica, she could get a sense of scale, and she could finalize the design of the rest of the cake.

She didn’t need to do this, but having a visual reference helped her plan the rest of the design. Also, she enjoyed it. Was it so bad to do things she enjoyed? What was the point of life otherwise? (Conveniently, this line of reasoning could be used for what had transpired the day before as well.)

Fred and Nadia’s cake was quite a bit more effort than a standard wedding cake, but Camilla knew that Fred Goodhew’s recommendation held weight in Stirling and beyond. This job was huge, not just for her money problems but for the future of her business. She wouldn’t mess it up.

After a couple of hours of detail work with the replica, Camilla stretched her back and wandered to the front of the bakery to see how things were going. The sounds of happy conversation filled the warm space, and Camilla felt a rush of pride.

She’d built this. She’d done it. On her own.

Frankie Smith couldn’t take that away from her, however much he tried. She’d find some way to end this; she had to.

“Hey, girl!” Amelia pushed the door open and smiled at Camilla. “You got time to have a coffee with me?”

Camilla smiled. “Of course.”

They settled at one of the bakery tables while Ben prepared their drinks, and Amelia gave Camilla an amused look. “So,” she started, and Camilla knew what was coming. “You and Marlon, huh.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Amelia cackled like a villain crowing over her evil plans. “Sure you don’t.”

“This is a bit hypocritical of you, isn’t it? You weren’t exactly forthcoming when you and Leo were circling each other.”

Amelia wiggled her left hand to make her ring glint. “And look at me now.”

Camilla pursed her lips, but it was mostly to hide her smile. Ben appeared with their drinks, bringing over a small plate with two cookies on it as well. “I’m going to take my lunch break,” he told Camilla. “You good with that?”

“Of course.” She smiled at him.

“Welcome back, Amelia,” Ben said, then padded out through the kitchen door with a wave. He and Amelia had become friendlier in the past few months, often having long conversations about computer- and data-related things Camilla didn’t have a hope of understanding.

Amelia sighed happily. “Look at this place, Camilla. You’re doing so well. I can’t believe it.”

Camilla felt her smile tighten. How would her friends react if they knew about the ten-thousand-dollar noose wrapped around her neck? Camilla was sure they’d be supportive—they might even offer to contribute—but shame held her tongue. Shame, and self-preservation. She was fiercely private about her finances ever since her ex had taken advantage of her. Even mentioning anything about money made her palms sweat.

Plus, if she told them, what if word got back to her family? She’d be fielding phone calls and criticisms for the rest of her life. Her father might even start openly opposing her bakery, and what if that affected her business?

It was easier to deal with her problems on her own and be done with it. She was so close.

She forced herself to relax. “It’s been going well. I think the broken window actually brought more people in. I’ve had so many people tell me they want to support local businesses.”

“That, and your food is amazing,” Amelia said, nabbing one of the cookies from the plate between them.

Camilla grinned. “That too.”

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