7.

PENNY

Leaning against the counter, I watched Liam tighten the last screw on the bakery’s new doorbell chime.

“Try it now,” he said, stepping back and wiping his hands on a napkin.

Jess reached for the door handle, pushed it open slightly, and let it swing back.

A pleasant jingle echoed through the bakery, she gasped dramatically. “We’re officially fancy!”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “It’s a doorbell, Jess, not a Michelin star.”

Liam smirked. “At least now you’ll know when someone sneaks in.”

I nodded, appreciating his help more than I wanted to admit. He had done a lot—fixing up shelves, adjusting furniture, even helping unpack the last few boxes I had been dreading.

At some point, we had ordered takeout, and now the scent of soy sauce and fried rice lingered in the air. Jess leaned back in her chair, rubbing her stomach. “I can’t move. Someone carry me.”

“No one’s carrying you,” I said, amused. “But Liam can drop you home, seeing he's on his way out”

Liam, who had been sipping his drink, raised an eyebrow at me. “What about you?”

I sighed. “I still have to close up, make sure everything’s in place.”

Jess groaned. “Just leave it! No one’s robbing a bakery on the first night.” Gosh, she can be so dramatic. 

I gave her a look. “Go home, Jess.”

“Alright. I’ll drop her off. Lock the door when we leave.” Liam instructed, and I found it cute. Immediately brushing it off, what if his helping was a ploy to woo me into that marriage. Ah ha! Nice try.

I watched them head for the exit, Jess still grumbling about being abandoned. The doorbell jangled, then silence.

I turned back to the counter, exhaling slowly. This place finally felt real.

My dream. My mother’s worst nightmare.

But this was what I wanted.

I adjusted a stack of menus, smoothing my hands over the counter. Ten more minutes. Then I’d head home, I needed to bask in this success, no matter how little it was, I needed to bask in it, just a little more.

The doorbell rang again as I smiled, not turning around, because I knew who it was, she always had a habit of leaving something behind and coming back for it. “Jess, did you forget something?”

A deep, unfamiliar, yet familiar voice answered. “It appears you forgot your manners.” I spun around so fast my heart nearly stopped.

Christian Hilton stood just inside the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets, his gaze slow and deliberate as it took a look across my bakery.

I couldn't help but admire how his navy-blue suit was sexy, how it fitted his frame in a way that made it impossible not to admire. His dark hair slightly tousled like he had run his fingers through it on the way here and his expensive leather shoes, polished to perfection.

I was already swooning over this man, mother was right, if I wasn't careful, I might have to worry about cobwebs down there. 

He belonged in his large offices, not standing in this small bakery with lights that just happened to dim at his arrival. 

I swallowed, “How did you—” I stopped myself. Stupid question. “What are you doing here?”

He ignored me. His attention was elsewhere, his eyes analyzing the space, as if he were making silent calculations.

His first words weren’t about the wedding.

Or the inheritance.

Or even a veiled insult.

Instead, “What security have you installed in this place?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?” 

Fixing his gaze back at me, unimpressed. “You heard me.”

I stuttered, suddenly feeling underprepared. “I—I mean, I put in the doorbell.”

Christian exhaled sharply. “A doorbell.” His tone was so dismissive, I felt my spine stiffen.

“You can’t be a Hilton if you don’t have a proper security system,” he said, shaking his head like I was some sort of disappointment. “This is what you’re leaving your mother’s empire for?”

I clenched my fists. “I haven’t agreed to the marriage yet.”

That made him smirk.

And it wasn’t a nice one.

It was slow, dangerous, the kind that sent a shiver down my spine even as I tried not to let it show.

He took a step forward. Then another. Slow, predatory steps that suddenly made the room feel smaller.

I didn’t move.

I wouldn’t move.

I couldn't move.

He stopped just beside me, leaning in slightly, his fresh mint breath warm against my ear.

His voice was low, “You have no choice, Penelope. You’re mine. Unless, of course… you want me telling everyone what my Senator father and your dead bitch mother did for you.”

My blood ran cold, my fingers curled against the counter.

How did he-? It couldn't be why my mother insisted on this marriage right? 

I was fazed—but I refused to show it.

Instead, I turned my head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, as he was much taller than I was. 

“The least you can do is respect the dead, Christian,” I murmured. “Didn’t your mommy teach you manners?”

I saw it happen.

The instant flicker of rage in his eyes, the clenching of his jaw, and the way his entire body tensed.

And I smiled.

Two can play this game.

He let out a sharp laugh—low, unexpected.

I hadn't expected him to actually laugh.

And, God help me, I actually liked the sound.

If this was the first and last time I’d ever hear him laugh, I’d take it.

But just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

His expression hardened, the cold, emotionless man was back into place, straightening, he adjusted the cuffs of his suit.

It was a habit, I noticed. A smile finds its way to my face, if his hands are not in his pockets, they're adjusting his cufflinks every few minutes. 

“I’ll send someone 3$to install a proper security system,” he said, distracting me from my thoughts  “From locks down to surveillance.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he didn't even give room for a response from me, so I shut it, quickly.

“We meet in court on Friday. The wedding is on Saturday.”

He wasn’t asking me.

He was informing me.

Seeing the shock on my face, his lips twitched into something mocking.

"Seeing as you have no money, your only way out is me—to get your inheritance." His green eyes flashed over me, assessing, from head to toe. "So, I’ll pay for everything—the wedding, your dress, all of it."

Letting out a hollow laugh. "How generous of you."

"Oh, don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t for you. I’m not wasting my money on someone I intend to ruin” he took a deep breath in, letting it out shortly after. “Hold off on opening the bakery, it should open after the wedding.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

No goodbye. No final glance.

The doorbell jangled softly as the door swung shut behind him.

Letting out a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding as I slumped to the floor.

I was in trouble.