All Chapters of The Baker's Billionaire : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

DEMETRIAWednesday…“I don’t know, Demetria, maybe a weekend away is what you need—with a new man by your side,” Anastasia pressed, her voice too chipper for my mood.I had just finished telling her that all I needed was rest. But in my line of business, rest didn’t exist. Saturdays weren’t for brunch dates or spa trips—they were for orders, deliveries, and ovens that never seemed to cool down.I rolled my eyes, pushing open my car door. “If I were going to take a vacation, it wouldn’t be with a new man—a stranger at that.”“Why not?” she challenged.A short laugh slipped out of me as I crossed the parking lot. “Girl! What if I’m being kidnapped?”“Fair enough,” she said with mock seriousness, before quickly adding, “Maybe you’re waiting for your handsome devil to come and snatch you up.”This time, I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. Some hot billionaire to come and steal me away.”“Damn right!” she shrieked happily in my ear.Her laughter still

MARION“Fuck!” I exclaimed, stretching my arms above me before dragging my hands down my face. This week has been nothing short of a clusterfuck. Between visiting the site to oversee the casino’s construction and reviewing the latest budget reports from Whitfield Diamonds, my days have been swallowed whole. Neither of them made things easier.Being the CEO of my empire and the CFO of my family’s was more than just a balancing act—it was a constant test of endurance.But my father insisted. He trusted no one else to handle the family’s financial reins but me, and so I carried the weight. The reason I’d gone through Yale, burning my twenties away in accounting and finance while my friends coasted.Standing at the far-right corner of my office, I stared out through the floor-to-ceiling window. The Los Angeles skyline stretched before me, sharp and glittering in the late morning sun. I doubted anyone could see in, but I still liked the privacy this vantage gave me. A fortress above the no

MARION“We meet again.” After saying that, and my mother curiously asking if we knew each other, I wasn't paying attention to her. I was just admiring the stranger, also known to be the mysterious baker behind this deal.She looked… composed. That’s the first word that came to mind when she walked in. A crisp white silk blouse tucked neatly into tailored beige pants, hugging her figure in all the right ways, polished but not flashy. It gave her a quiet kind of authority, one that didn’t need sequins or diamonds to demand attention. She wasn’t dressed to provoke. Yet, somehow, she did. And I hated how much I noticed.Her voice was steady when she answered my mother’s questions, but I noticed the slight tremor in her fingers as she set the samples down. Pretending. She wanted control, wanted me to believe she was unaffected. But the flush creeping up her neck gave her away.Then she said it—cinnamon cookies. My favorite. That was bold. Smart. And damn if it didn’t make my blood heat kn

DEMETRIAThe next morning, I stood in the middle of the bakery’s kitchen, apron tied neatly around my waist, my tote bag still hanging off one shoulder. The air was warm with the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon rolls cooling on the racks. My team, Amanda, and two of our junior bakers looked up from their stations as I clapped my hands lightly for attention.“Okay, everyone, quick meeting,” I began, my tone calm but carrying the weight of what I was about to say. “I met with Mrs. Whitfield and her son yesterday.”Amanda perked up, eyes bright with curiosity. “So? How did it go? Did they like the samples?”“They did,” I replied, exhaling slowly. “Mrs. Whitfield was pleased. She even praised the shortbread cookies and tartlets.” I paused, glancing down at the countertop before meeting their eyes again. “But… Marion Whitfield, her son, insisted on a second tasting before giving final approval. He said it was to make sure nothing goes wrong on the day of the gala.”A murmur ran through t

DEMETRIA “THE CLUB?” I asked Anastasia. She just told me that we're going to the club.“Yes, girl. It's called THE ACE. It's here in West Hollywood. You'll love it.”“How far is it from my apartment?”“Five to ten minutes. Maximum. We'll not get too wasted. If it happens, I'll call my man to pick us up.” She winks at me.She gives me full attention. “Now let's get you dressed.”“Mhmmm. Nothing too revealing.”“Girl, your body is banging. We need to show you off. You'll come home with a man, trust me.”“Of course”. I scoffed.“Okay, let's see what you have”.Anastasia flung open my wardrobe like she owned it, fingers skimming through hangers until she let out a triumphant gasp.“This. This is the one.” She pulled out my Sawyer Mini Dress, a black outfit I’d bought on a whim but never dared to wear. The fabric was simple yet sleek, hugging in all the right places without screaming for attention.“Hmmm”.“Yep, this is the one. You’ll thank me later.” She smirked, already digging throug