Page 70 of Craving

The Sweetest Thing was a successful business, and Camilla had built it on her own. Of course she hadn’t wanted to leave. Of course she’d wanted to re-make the cake after it had been destroyed.

Just as he’d wanted his security team to perform well today and for the event to go off without a hitch, Camilla had wanted to deliver on her promises. Her desires were no different. He’d let his need to protect her overshadow that when he could have found another solution. He could have stayed. He could have called another employee to watch over the space.

Instead, he’d been offended, and he’d snapped.

Today, when Camilla stood in front of him and asked if she could sleep at his house tonight, his anger had disappeared between one moment and the next. How could he pretend he was a good person when he was ready to throw Camilla out with nowhere to go? When she’d said she would move out, part of him had been relieved. And that relief made him ashamed.

Now, as the event dragged on and Marlon was alone with his thoughts, he realized he cared about her far too much to let his own ego get in the way. He was a sorry excuse for a protector when he couldn’t consider the needs of the person he was supposed to protect.

The next time he saw her, Marlon would hug her tight and tell her what she meant to him. She was everything. She was his love. His woman. His world.

He checked his phone; she hadn’t texted. She was probably asleep.

“Mr. St. James,” a voice murmured to his left.

Marlon turned to see Percival, the Goodhew butler, standing next to the ballroom doorway beside him. “Everything okay?”

“It’s time to place the cake topper on the cake. Could I borrow two of your men to oversee the transfer?”

Marlon nodded. “Of course.” He pressed the button on the side of his radio. “Cormac. Luke. Percival needs you at the service entrance. Got a hot cake topper comin’ in.”

“Copy,” Cormac’s voice crackled over Marlon’s earpiece.

He nodded to Percival. “They’ll meet you at the back entrance as discussed and supervise the transfer from your people’s car to the kitchen.”

“Excellent.” Percival gave a deep nod, then disappeared.

Marlon turned back to the event and straightened his tie. His collar felt tight, and it was a bit warmer than was comfortable in the ballroom. He glanced at the door that Percival had used…

And hesitated.

The cake topper transfer had been discussed at length with the Goodhews. The thing was a family heirloom, worth a mint. Apparently, it was covered in gold and diamonds and would be placed on the cake moments before the cutting. It would be arriving in a Goodhew vehicle, and the locked case would be guarded as the transfer was made from the car to the kitchen, then all the way to the ballroom.

After the cake was cut and the photos were taken, the same operation would happen in reverse.

The only reason Marlon wasn’t overseeing the operation himself was because he was in charge of the ballroom. Normally, both he and Cormac wouldn’t both work these types of events—their business had grown, and they weren’t so hands-on anymore—but the value and importance of this contract was huge. Getting Goodhew goodwill could catapult a business.

Marlon jerked. That’s exactly what Camilla had told him, and he’d ignored it. Once again, he realized that he’d criticized her for acting exactly as he would have. He needed to apologize to her. Needed to find her and make sure she knew he understood that he’d messed up. He needed to fix this.

As soon as the cake cutting was done, he’d leave.

“On the move,” Cormac said over the earpiece. “Two minutes to the kitchen.”

His thoughts turned back to the precious cake topper. A memory twigged, and Marlon’s pulse picked up. Something was wrong. He couldn’t quite place his finger on what, exactly, but the back of his neck prickled. He’d learned long ago to trust his instincts.

Stepping out of the room, Marlon pulled out his phone. It only took a few taps to find the footage of the break-in at The Sweetest Thing. He skipped forward until he found the clip of the perpetrator opening the refrigerator.

Marlon’s blood ran cold.

He’d watched this footage a thousand times since the break-in had happened, but he hadn’t seen what was right in front of him. Marlon had known the man was looking for something, but he’d missed the way he paused when he saw the model topper Camilla had made. He’d missed the way the perp ripped open the fridge, grabbed the topper, and crushed it in his hands.

The man didn’t destroy the wedding cake because he was trying to trash the bakery; he destroyed it in a fit of rage when he saw it was made of modeling chocolate. He was upset the Goodhews’ heirloom cake topper wasn’t in the bakery. For a moment the perp scanned the space, but then he must have heard the sirens, because a second later he bolted out the back door.

He’d been after the cake topper. Marlon was sure of it. But…who was he?

“Opening the case now,” Cormac narrated. “We’re live. Eyes open, people.”

Marlon was sprinting before he gave his feet the order to move. He nearly bowled two caterers out of the way, then slammed the swinging kitchen doors open with both hands. Breaths heaved in and out of his lungs while he took in the space at a glance.

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