Chapter 5: Unwelcome Surprise

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 there are any changes or if you need anything ahead of the meeting.

Best regards,

Amanda.

With a sigh, I tossed the phone onto the bed beside me. The day doesn’t wait for anyone. Especially not bakers with high-profile contracts.

Dragging myself out of bed, I grabbed my towel and headed into the bathroom. Steam soon filled the space as warm water cascaded over my skin, washing away the remnants of sleep. My body loosened under the soothing spray. The sweet scent of strawberry body wash rose around me, filling the room like a comfort blanket. I worked the lather across my skin with slow, practiced movements, as though preparing not just for the day but for battle. My hair, thick, black, and endlessly stubborn, soaked under the water as I worked shampoo into my scalp, followed by conditioner that left my strands glossy and smooth.

By the time I stepped out, the mirror was fogged, droplets clinging to my skin. My cheeks glowed from the heat, my body energized. Wrapping myself in a towel, I padded back to my bedroom, ready to face the mirror and the reality of this meeting.

Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I studied myself critically. At 5’5, I wasn’t the tallest, but today I needed to look taller, sharper, more… professional. My crisp white silk blouse caught the golden morning light, its subtle sheen reflecting just enough to look polished without being ostentatious. I tucked it neatly into my high-waisted beige pants, the tailored cut hugging my waist and elongating my legs. Nude pointed-toe pumps waited at the foot of the bed, ready to add another six inches and that sleek, put-together effect I craved.

Accessories were simple but intentional. Small gold hoop earrings glinted softly, paired with a delicate bracelet and my trusty watch, the one I always wore to important meetings. As if its ticking somehow steadied my nerves. A thin chain necklace peeked from the collar of my blouse, subtle but present. Finally, my structured beige leather tote sat ready by my side, roomy enough for notes or documents for my client discussion.

I’ve parted my black hair cleanly down the middle, the glossy strands catching the soft golden light of morning. Loose, cascading waves frame my face, each curl defined yet natural, giving me an effortless elegance. The ends brush just past my shoulders, with a healthy shine that reflects every glimmer of sunlight coming through my windows. Yes, my products have done their magic.

I dab tinted moisturizer, light coverage, just enough to even my skin without feeling heavy. A touch of concealer brightened the shadows under my eyes, while a sweep of soft blush across my cheeks added warmth to my complexion. For my eyes, I kept it minimal: a hint of neutral shadow, a thin stroke of eyeliner close to my lash line, and two coats of mascara to make my lashes flutter naturally.

I uncapped my lip gloss, a soft rose shade with a subtle sheen, and smoothed it across my lips. The shine caught the morning light, giving me that effortless, polished glow I wanted without trying too hard.

Tucking a few strands neatly behind one ear, revealing my subtle gold hoop earring, while the rest falls freely, adding softness to my poised, professional look. I was ready to go, like now! Before I forget, the final touch. A light spritz of my favorite CHANEL perfume.

“Ready,” I told my reflection, though my heart whispered otherwise.

Already running late, I darted into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the counter. My stomach twisted with nerves. No way I could handle breakfast before the meeting. I’d eat later, if my appetite ever came back.

Sliding into my peach-colored Camry, I started the engine, the soft hum of the car blending with the lingering birdsong outside. Pulling out of my driveway, I reminded myself that before Pasadena, I needed to stop by the bakery. The samples were non-negotiable.

“Siri, call Amanda.”

After a few rings, her voice answered, warm and teasing as always. “Hello, Bosslady. How are you doing?”

“Feeling blessed and energetic this morning, no complaints here,” I replied smoothly, easing through a green light. “Yourself?”

“I’m good.” Her background was filled with the comforting chaos of the bakery; the chatter of customers, the ring of the register, and the clink of trays sliding onto counters. The sound made me smile internally. My bakery. My dream. Alive and breathing.

“I’m on my way,” I said. “Meet me outside with the plated samples; I’m running late for my meeting.”

“Okay, I’ll do that now.”

“Thank you. See you later.”

The drive was unusually smooth; the roads were kind to me today. In barely twenty minutes, I pulled up outside the bakery. Amanda was already waiting, balancing the plated samples with the precision of someone who knew how much was riding on them.

She opened the passenger door, carefully setting the plated samples onto the seat. “All set, Bosslady,” she said with a grin.

“Perfect, thank you. I’ll be back with good news. Pray hard.”

“Always. Good luck, Miss Hernandez!”

I flashed her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

With that, I pulled away, heart hammering faster than before.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered under my breath as I walked into Lido di Manhattan. The restaurant’s cool air greeted me, mingling with the faint scent of roasted coffee and baked bread.

At the front desk, a new face greeted me, an Indian woman, her smile professional.

“Hi, I’m meeting with Mrs. Whitfield,” I said, adjusting the strap of my tote.

“One moment.” She tapped briskly at the phone. “Hello, Madam, your guest has arrived.” A pause. “Okay, Madam.” She hung up, then gestured politely. “Please head to the elevator for the VIP floor. You’ve been here before, yes?”

“Yeah, I’ve been here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The elevator chimed.

Standing inside was the guy who came for the contract papers after I signed them on Monday, the same day I gave him some cookies to give to Mrs. Whitfield’s son. She said someone recommended me to her, and she sent her staff to buy some cookies so that she could taste them. That’s how I got this contract. She liked the cookies, and her son also loved them, especially my cinnamon cookies; that's why I gifted him some.

“Hello, Hulk,” I teased, waving awkwardly.

I stared at him — bulky, bald, dressed in an all-black three-piece suit. He had to be at least a foot taller than my 5'5, because I’d had to crane my neck to meet his eyes just like last time.

“My name is Stephen,” he corrected, voice flat.

“Okay, Stephen, but I’ll still call you Hulk,” I smirked.

He said nothing. The ride was quiet, but my nerves buzzed louder with each passing floor. Something felt… off. A prickling at the base of my neck, an unease I couldn’t shake.

At the end of the corridor, Stephen pushed open a heavy door for me. I stepped inside, balancing my tote and the samples.

“We meet again.”

The voice froze me where I stood. Low. Smooth. Familiar. A shudder raced through me as I turned, heart dropping into my stomach.

There he was.

The stranger from Friday night.

Smirking like he owned the room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I said through gritted teeth.