All Chapters of The Baker's Billionaire : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

DEMETRIAMy eyes open because my damn phone would not stop ringing. I mumbled, feeling annoyed because it's the weekend, and my workers know not to call me this time. I rolled over and blindly fumbled my hands around, feeling for my phone. When I didn't feel it, I grunted, opened my eyes, and then saw the time on my wall clock, 5:46 am.“The hell?” I uttered as I eased up. When I did, I spotted my phone on my dresser. Thankfully, it stopped ringing, so I placed my hands on my back, elongated it, and stretched. “Mmm,” I moaned as my stiff body started to warm. My phone started ringing back. While shaking my head, I raised my covers, sat up, and snatched the phone from my dresser.Marion.“Marion,” I answered reluctantly.“Wildfire…” His voice was hoarse, strained, so unlike him.My heart skipped a beat. I instantly sat upright, back pressing hard against the headboard as fear slithered through me.“Marion? Baby? What’s going on?” My stomach clenched as I gripped the phone tighter.“Ca

DEMETRIA “Wildfire?” Marion quizzed, staring at me.“Mar—Marion.” I fumbled because I was still in a state of shock. He really named his newest establishment after my nickname.“Come here.” He commanded as he opened his legs wide. I shuffled my feet to where he sat and stood between his open legs. “You love me, right?” “Of course, Marion, I love you, but it's just too much.”“I always tell you to get used to it. You’re mine.” He declared. “And I want some desserts from your bakery served on the opening nights. It’s left with a week, make it happen.” He said with finality in his voice and kissed my neck.I smiled, tracing a finger along his jaw. “Bossy, aren’t you?” I teased softly. “Fine. I’ll make sure everything’s perfect. The best from my bakery, just for you.” I paused, eyes glinting with mischief. “But you better not take all the credit when everyone’s raving about my desserts.”“It’s all yours, but when it's time for the opening, just look pretty on my arms and support me.” He

DEMETRIA“Come on, Anas! Help me out here. You’re my fashionista. You’ve forgotten?” I asked, pouting and giving her my best puppy eyes expression on our FaceTime.Anastasia’s laughter rang through the phone. “Girl! Don’t give me those puppy eyes. Allow me to enjoy my honeymoon. Marion didn’t send his assistant to shop for you?”“I declined,” I said, smiling as I ran my fingers over a sleek black gown on the rack. “I want to do this on my own and make it a surprise too until he sees me tomorrow night.”“Oooh, someone’s planning to blow her man’s mind,” she teased.I chuckled softly. “Maybe. It’s his big night, Anas. The least I can do is look good standing next to him.”“You always look good next to him, Deme. But okay,” she said with a playful sigh. “Find that dress that’ll make Mr. Handsome Devil forget his own name.”I laughed. “That’s the plan, bestie.”I skimmed through the racks, my fingers brushing against soft fabrics and shimmering details. I was at Maxfield Los Angeles, in W

DEMETRIA“What a birthday surprise,” Marion smirked as he held the Polaroid pictures I left as a trail from the stairs to his bedroom, while staring at me lying on his bed. I came in early because he had to handle something last-minute at the party, allowing me to set up everything with Anastasia’s idea.“Happy birthday, Marion,” I said softly, my voice trembling just a little.He leaned against the doorframe, jaw tense, eyes running over me in a slow, deliberate drag. I was in a burgundy–colored lingerie set; delicate, barely-there straps, lace that shimmered faintly under the golden light. My hair spilled down my shoulders, and the soft glow kissed my skin in all the right places. I was surrounded by Polaroid pictures of myself, my version of a photoshoot, and I had red ropes laying over me.I’d never done anything like this before. The Polaroids scattered across the bed were my version of a private gallery, a gift of confidence, of love, of courage. But the truth was, this night fe

MARIONThe elevator chimed softly as it opened onto the executive floor of Whitfield Diamond Corporation. The faint hum of conversation, the rhythmic clicking of heels on marble, and the distant scent of coffee all mingled in the air.I adjusted the folder in my hand, a contract for final approval, and walked down the long hallway toward my father’s office. The receptionist smiled, greeting me politely.“Good morning, Mr. Whitfield. Your father’s expecting you.”“Thanks, Cynthia,” I replied, pushing the heavy glass door open.Inside, my father was seated behind his grand mahogany desk, reading glasses perched low on his nose. He looked up when I entered, his expression softening slightly.“Marion,” he said with a nod. “On time, as always.”I placed the file in front of him. “Final contract for the diamond trade agreement with the Russian partners. Everything’s in order; I just need your signature before it goes to legal.”He flipped through the pages, scanned the details, and signed w