DOMINICThe sound of her footsteps on the stairs echoed through the hall, each one sharper than the last.Every muscle in my body screamed to let her go.But I couldn’t.Not when every nerve in me was still wired from the image burned into my mind—her smile, his hand, that damned photo.By the time she reached the top of the stairs, reason had already snapped.I followed.“Brooklyn,” I called again, voice too low, too controlled to be sane.She didn’t stop.Didn’t even turn around.The sight of her walking away from me—again—ignited something raw and ugly in my chest.“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” I said, louder this time, each word clipped.I closed the distance in two long strides, my hand like a vise when it found her wrist. The stairs groaned under my weight; the hallway light threw hard angles across her face.She spun around halfway down the east wing corridor, eyes bright with fury. “Then stop giving me a reason to!”The words hit like a slap, and the rest of the world di
BROOKLYNThe ride home felt longer than usual.The city lights blurred through the tinted glass, each one smearing into the next like streaks of melted gold. My body was running on fumes, but my mind was wired — a tangled mess of frustration, guilt, and exhaustion that refused to settle.All I wanted was a shower, maybe a moment to breathe, to pretend I hadn’t spent the day pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.When the car finally slowed in front of the mansion gates, my stomach twisted. The guard nodded me through, and as the iron gates swung open, I felt like I was being swallowed whole.The mansion loomed in the dusk — glass and stone, beautiful and cold, just like the man who owned it.I tried to shake off the unease clawing at me, telling myself Dominic was probably at some late meeting or drowning himself in one of his endless reports. I could slip upstairs, check on Elliot, and let the day die quietly.But the moment I stepped through the front doors, I knew I wasn’t
BROOKLYNWhen he came back, his smile was gone.He slid behind the counter again, rolling his sleeves like nothing monumental had just happened. Like he hadn’t just swooped in and rescued me from the fallout of my own morning.I glared at the espresso machine just so I wouldn’t glare at him.“Don’t do that again,” I said finally, my voice clipped, each word precise enough to cut glass.He glanced up, brow arched. “Do what?”“Take over like that. In front of customers. It makes it look like I can’t handle my job.”Ethan leaned a hip against the counter, that maddeningly calm look in his eyes. “Brooklyn, half the city could’ve seen what happened yesterday. You think anyone here’s judging you for needing a second?”“That’s not the point.” I forced the next sentence out before my throat could close up. “You keep doing this thing where you play savior, and I’m not—”“Letting anyone help you,” he finished for me, voice low, knowing. “Yeah, I’ve heard that line before.”The air between us fe
BROOKLYN The mansion’s front doors shut behind me with a slam that rattled through my bones.I didn’t wait for Dominic. Didn’t even check if he’d followed. My heels clicked furiously across the driveway as I stormed toward the waiting car, and the driver startled so badly he nearly dropped his cap when I yanked the back door open myself.“Good morning, ma’am,” he stammered.“Just drive,” I snapped, sliding in and slamming the door hard enough to make the windows tremble.Silence pressed in around me the moment we pulled out of the gates. Normally, the car was a haven—quiet leather seats, tinted windows, a bubble where I could breathe between the chaos of the mansion and the pace of the bakery. But today… today, it felt like a cage.My reflection stared back at me from the dark glass. Eyes too bright, cheeks flushed, blouse buttoned wrong because my hands had been shaking when I left. God, I must have looked insane storming out like that.The driver kept his eyes on the road, but I ca
BROOKLYNThe morning light was cruel.It slipped between the curtains, golden and soft, like the world had no idea my life had been set on fire just hours ago. I rolled onto my side, eyes gritty, head pounding, and for a split second, I let myself imagine I could just… stay here. Hide under the covers. Forget the bakery, forget Dominic, forget the way Ethan’s words had landed like grenades.But then a familiar sound drifted in from the hallway—Elliot humming under his breath. Off-key, cheerful, the kind of sound that didn’t care about my catastrophes.The sound tugged me out of bed before I could talk myself into hiding under the covers.I forced myself upright. My body ached like I’d run a marathon, but I padded into the hall anyway.His door was half open, and I leaned against the frame for a second, watching him. He was standing in front of the mirror, tongue poking out as he tried to flatten the cowlick that never behaved, backpack already strapped on crookedly. He looked so deter
BROOKLYNThe rest of my shift dragged on like wet cement.Every time I looked up, someone was watching me. Pretending to clean, pretending to froth milk, pretending to wipe down counters—but always watching. Whispers slithered between orders, heads tilted toward me and snapped away the second I caught them.I wanted to scream.Instead, I kept my chin high, plastered on a fake smile for customers, and moved through the motions like nothing had happened. But inside? I was on fire. My pulse wouldn’t slow down, my stomach was tied in painful knots, and no matter how many times I tried to steady myself, my hands kept trembling when I reached for the register or the pastry tongs.Ethan, of course, didn’t help. He kept himself busy, but every so often, I’d feel his eyes on me. That infuriating calmness of his, like he hadn’t just stirred gasoline onto a blaze.By the time my shift ended, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.The car was already waiting outside, as usual. Dominic’s idea of