Page 72 of Craving

But every time one of the servers passed by the cake trolley, they had to lift their tray to make enough room over the tiered cake and topper. Cormac had to move to the front of the trolley, so the side of the trolley was completely exposed.

Marlon hadn’t anticipated this.

And he also hadn’t anticipated one of the waiters dropping their tray, bumping into the person behind them, and causing them to drop their tray of cake too. A clatter of broken plates and shouts followed, and chaos broke out in the hallway.

It only took a second of distraction for the cake topper to disappear. One moment it was there, then there was a big tray blocking his view, and then the cake topper was gone. There were too many people in the hallway, too many trays of cake, too much noise, too much chaos.

Marlon tried to shout for calm, tried to tell everyone to stop where they were, but another tray of cake went flying, and plates crashed against the hallway wall. Smears of frosting dripped down the wallpaper as a server screamed and fell on the bed of broken plates.

Then Marlon saw one of the waiters move against the tide.

That thieving, bakery-robbing bastard was trying to get away. Marlon let out a roar. All attempts at subtlety gone, the man started sprinting down the hallway toward the service doors at the far end, cake topper glinting in his fist. Once he got out of the hotel, he’d be gone.

Marlon wasn’t going to let him get away with it. He wasn’t going to let this asshole ruin Camilla’s cake and get away with it.

Vaulting over the wheeled trolley that still held the smashed remnants of Camilla’s masterpiece, Marlon darted around a flailing Percival. “Out of the way,” he yelled, trying to gather speed. Adrenaline dumped into his veins as he began to sprint. “Stop!” His arms pumped as he dashed after the perp. “Get on the ground, now!”

The man glanced over his shoulder and redoubled his speed. Behind Marlon, the clamor increased. A side door in front of him opened as wedding guests came out of the ballroom’s second doorway to investigate the noise.

He pushed a tuxedo-clad man out of the way and caught Leo and Amelia’s wide-eyed stares on the way past, but there was no time to explain and no time to slow down. He hit a corner at top speed and bounced off the wall, gaining on the thief.

The door loomed ahead, a glowing red EXIT sign above it. The thief let out a gasp of relief, but it was short-lived.

Marlon lunged, wrapping the man in a bear hug and bringing him to the ground. Footsteps pounded behind him as the crowd caught up, but Marlon was busy wrestling the man to the ground. He pinned him on his stomach, then grabbed the man’s flailing wrists.

The cake topper gleamed in the man’s left hand. His fingers were white as he clenched it, unwilling to admit defeat.

“Let go of the cake topper or I’ll break your arm, dipshit,” Marlon growled, which was a threat he never imagined he’d utter.

Fingers uncurled, and the cake topper fell onto the ground. Percival hurried forward and scooped it up, inspecting it for damage, then let out a breath of relief. Cormac and Luke came jogging forward. Luke held the big black safety case in one hand. He dropped it on the ground and flipped it open, and a moment later, the topper was securely locked inside.

Relief flooded through Marlon’s body. At the same time, the thief slumped, all the fight going out of him.

Marlon turned the man onto his back to get a look at his face—and frowned. “You look familiar,” he said, looking at the man’s nose ring, studying his face. Now that he’d gotten a good look at his face, Marlon knew him. But from where? “Who are you?”

“That’s my neighbor’s grandson!” Amelia exclaimed, stomping forward with her jaw hanging open. “You—Mrs. Gordon—what—?”

“Get off me,” the man snarled.

Marlon did no such thing. He kept the man pinned as he tried to remember where he’d seen this guy before. It wasn’t at Amelia’s apartment, because he hadn’t even been there when everything went down six months prior. So where…

“You’re the creep trying to date teen girls,” he said, eyes widening. “Camilla kicked you out of her bakery.”

The crowd gasped and murmured behind him. Amelia let out a squeak of outrage.

By then, hotel security had arrived. They put the man’s wrists in thick zip ties and hauled him up to his feet.

“Wait,” Marlon said, not caring that he had an audience. He narrowed his eyes at the would-be thief. “You broke into Camilla’s bakery last night.”

The man snarled. “Yeah, so?”

Fred came barging through the crowded hallway, eyes like thunder. He stared at the thief, then at Marlon. “Did this asshole try to steal Grandmama’s cake topper?”

Marlon stared down the creep in front of him and nodded. “Yep.”

Fred approached, his body trembling with rage. Nostrils flaring, he looked down at the thief. “Today is my wedding day,” he said in a quiet, deadly voice, “so I’m not going to beat you to a pulp.”

The thief gulped.

---