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Chapter 33: Sugar And Smoke
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2025-09-10 05:19:58
Skylar VandlerIf you’re enjoying Demetria & Marion’s story so far, please don’t forget to recommend this novel and show it some love 💕 Your support keeps me writing!
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The Baker's Billionaire Chapter 73: Saddles And Stolen Kisses
DEMETRIA“Come on, Wildfire. I promised to show you the stables.” Marion stood, hand stretched. I looked at him, glancing at his parents and back at him.“Go ahead, my dear. He wants you for himself. We’ll continue talking later.” Mrs. Whitfield said, smiling as she stared at her son and me.I hesitated for only a moment before slipping my hand into his. His grip was firm, steady, and the warmth of it sent a flutter through my chest. Marion’s mother’s smile lingered as if she already knew far more than I was ready to admit.“Thank you, Mrs. Whitfield,” I said politely, my cheeks warming.As Marion led me out of the living room, I could feel his father’s watchful gaze on our backs, like he was filing away every detail of how I moved beside his son. It was overwhelming, but in an odd way… comforting. They weren’t hostile. If anything, I sensed something dangerously close to acceptance.The hallway was quiet once we stepped away, and Marion leaned slightly closer, his voice low and teasi
The Baker's Billionaire Chapter 72: Her Seat At Their Table
MARION“I’m also here, Mother,” I teased as she turned to leave with Demetria.“You aren’t a guest, Marion. A little rejection won’t hurt. Right, Demetria?”“Of course, Mrs. Whitfield,” she replied smoothly, glancing back at me with a smirk that made my chest tighten.I shook my head, amused, and followed them into the living room.The room was the same as it always had been, polished oak shelves lined with books my mother insisted she would read one day, framed photographs of galas and family trips, and my father’s leather armchair planted like a throne by the window. The smell of roasted lamb drifted in from the kitchen, carried by the hum of conversation from the staff preparing the table.Mother moved with purpose, her hand lightly resting on Demetria’s back as if she had already claimed her as one of her own. “Darling, I’d like you to meet my husband, Maxwell Whitfield,” she said, her voice carrying that effortless warmth she reserved for people she approved of.My father stood,
The Baker's Billionaire Chapter 71: Wildfire Meets Royalty
DEMETRIAI let the hot water cascade down my body, steam filling the bathroom as I tried to calm my nerves. Marion’s deep voice carried faintly through the door, low and steady as he spoke to his brother about today’s lunch. The Whitfields.I pressed my palms against the tiled wall, exhaling. Damn. Lunch with his family? It wasn’t just any family. It was the Whitfields. Old money, power, influence dripping from their name like honey too rich to swallow.And me? A baker from Mexico who built her dream one cookie at a time.“God help me,” I muttered, rinsing the shampoo from my hair.The water didn’t wash away the knot twisting in my stomach. Because this wasn’t just lunch. This was a test. And I wasn’t about to fail.I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around me, the steam still clinging to my skin. My voice is a little hesitant. I turned to ask him about the outfit. “Should I go formal or…?”“Not too much,” he had replied, brushing it off with that easy confidence of his. “
The Baker's Billionaire Chapter 70: Interrupted By History
MARIONMy phone buzzed on the table. I ignored it at first; nothing was more important than the way Demetria licked the corner of her lip after finishing a bite of yellowtail sashimi. But the buzzing didn’t stop.With a sigh, I reached for it. One glance at the screen, and my jaw clenched so hard it hurt.Paula.Of all the people. Of all the moments.Demetria glanced at me, curiosity flickering across her face. I turned the phone face down, but the damage was done. The name had already burned itself into my mind, and maybe into hers, too.Fuck.Dinner had been perfect, not the way I’d planned it, but perfect nonetheless. She’d been tired, so instead of the full Nobu Malibu scene, I’d ordered everything to go. Now, in the comfort of my penthouse, we sat cross-legged on the rug like two teenagers, chopsticks in hand, her laughter filling the room louder than the jazz playlist I’d set.She looked beautiful even in her exhaustion, hair loose, eyes gleaming under the low light. When she te
The Baker's Billionaire Chapter 69: Wildfire Doesn't Wilt
DEMETRIAI looked back just as I heard the voice calling out to Marion. Oh, perfect! The same two women I’d run into at the grocery store, and again at the club. Paula’s so-called friends. Trouble in designer heels.“Marion Whitfield,” one of them crooned, the blonde. Her lips curved into a sly smile. The other with ginger hair, clutched a Dior bag like a trophy, eyes flicking to me and narrowing just slightly.“Ladies,” Marion said smoothly, voice calm, detached, as if he were addressing strangers on the street. His arm brushed mine lightly, the smallest gesture, but enough to remind me he wasn’t rattled.“Shopping for Paula today?” the first one asked, tilting her head. Her tone was sweet, but the sugar was poisoned. “She’ll love whatever you pick.”My stomach tightened. So this is how they played.Marion didn’t miss a beat. “Not Paula.” His voice was low, deliberate. “I don’t shop for the past.”The second woman gave a tinkling laugh, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Interesting.
The Baker's Billionaire Chapter 68: The Way She Wears My Money
MARIONThe sun in Los Angeles had a way of showing off, brash, golden, unapologetic. I had the top down on my Rolls-Royce Dawn, the wind teasing Demetria’s black waves as she leaned her head back, oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes. Music hummed low through the speakers, something smooth with bass, the kind of song that matched the lazy pulse of the city.She looked… free. Arms resting against the door, her face tilted toward the sky as if daring the sun to touch her more than I could.“Enjoying yourself, Wildfire?” I asked, my voice carrying over the breeze.She turned, her lips curving in that half-smile that set my blood running hotter than the afternoon heat. “For once, yes. You don’t drive like a man in a hurry.”I chuckled. “That’s because I’m not. Today’s your day.”We cut through West Hollywood traffic, heading toward Beverly Hills. The plan was simple: give her a taste of the life she deserved, a life most only ever pressed their noses against glass to glimpse.Rodeo Dri
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