The Baker's Billionaire

DEMETRIA “THAT'S AWESOME! CONGRATULATIONS!” Anastasia shrieked, her voice bursting through the phone like a firecracker. “We need to open your red wine and celebrate. I’m not taking no for an answer.” I just told her about my contract with Mrs. Whitfield. I didn't mention her name to Anastasia yet. I'll wait until she comes over and go into details about everything. I laughed, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. Her enthusiasm had that effect-it was impossible to stay calm around her. “Yeah, we'll do that,” I said, my voice bubbling with excitement. “Sure, I'll come over to your house when I get off work,” she said quickly, lowering her voice. I could hear faint chatter in the background-clients, no doubt. “I'll be waiting,” I replied, biting down on my lip to keep from giggling like a teenager. “Okay, see you later, a client just walked in,” she whispered hurriedly before the line went dead. My best friend, Anastasia whose job as an art curator kept her busy, always on the

MARION The boardroom at The Whitfield Diamonds Corporation LLC always smelled faintly of polished mahogany and tension. A dozen men in suits leaned forward around the long table, their eyes darting between the financial projections I’d put up on the screen and the silent figure of my father at the head of the table, with the new CEO at his side. My father only attends important meetings here. I cleared my throat, tapping the clicker in my hand. “As you can see, operating costs in South Africa have risen eight percent this quarter, largely due to increased security measures and labor adjustments. If we don’t reallocate from the underperforming European branches, we’ll cut into margins faster than we can recover them.” A murmur ran through the room. One of the older directors adjusted his cufflinks before speaking. “But shifting the budget from Antwerp? That branch has been in our family portfolio for fifty years—” I cut him off, firm but calm. “Tradition doesn’t pay the bills, g

DEMETRIA “UGHHH,” I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow as sunlight forced its way through my curtains, spilling across my room like it owned the place. No amount of turning or tugging the sheets over my head could block it out. The world had already decided it was a new day, and no amount of protest would change that. Reluctantly, I peeked from beneath the covers. The sun blazed bright, too bright, the kind of morning that promised heat stretching to sunset. Birds chirped merrily outside my two-bedroom apartment, their cheerful chorus only reminding me that I had no excuse to stay in bed. Ding! My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Groaning again, I stretched my hand toward it and squinted at the screen. Subject: Reminder: Breakfast Meeting Today Hi Demetria, This is a friendly reminder about the meeting scheduled for today at 11:00 AM with the client for the first tasting. The meeting will take place at Lido di Manhattan, Pasadena, CA. Please let me know if t

DEMETRIA “Do you know each other?” Mrs. Whitfield asks curiously. “No -” I started. He intervenes before I can finish my statement. “Yes, mother, we had a little talk. We met at Nobu, isn’t it, Demetria?” He asks with a glint sparkling in his eyes. His piercing greenish eyes stare at me as though they were searching for something in my soul. I narrowed my eyes at him briefly and gave my attention to Mrs. Whitfield. “No, Madam, I don’t know your son. It was just a few seconds of talking. Nothing much.” “Well I thought to bring my son with me. He'll pay for your service. He's the company's CFO, plus he loves your cookies.” “No problem.” “Okay, dear, come… come. Have a seat”. Mrs. Whitfield called out to me. “Thank you for having me today,” I said to her, ignoring her son, who was staring at me so wildly. I refused to be timid. I need to prove my wit, my business is on a thin line. Contract or not, I still need to win his approval, too. Shit! “Okay, I can see you came wi

DEMETRIASitting in my car, parked at the bakery lot, I pondered on what had just happened at the restaurant with Marion Whitfield.We’ll see each other again after the gala is over, Demetria. It’s a promise. His last words before I left. We’ll see.Let me text Anastasia to see if she’s busy. It’s 1:38 pm now. Are you busy? I text and hit send. A few seconds later, she calls.“Hey girl! How are you? I’ve missed you,” She starts, asking questions all at once.“I’m fine. I’ve missed you, too. How are you?”“I’m also fine. What’s up?”“Guess who I met today?”.“Mark?”“Nope”“Hmmm… hot stranger?”“Yes”“Eerrrr!” she shrieks. “Where?”“Well… he happens to be Mrs. Whitfield’s son”.“WHAT!” She exclaims in shock. “We need to meet in person, girl, like… right now. I didn’t go for lunch break; I was attending to clients. I’m free now. Let’s meet at Simonette. It’s close to my workplace and not far from your bakery.”“Okay, I’m on my way.”“Hurry, girl! But before we end the call, which one of