All Chapters of The Baker's Billionaire : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

MARION I stared at her, in just a black oversized T-shirt with the inscription ‘DON’T STARE AT MY BOOBS’, but I did. Her nipples protruded from the shirt, hard like diamonds. Hmmm… no bra. They were directed at me as if they needed me to touch them. “Let me in, Wildfire.” She was anticipating whether to close the door or open it wide, from the look in her eyes. “I came with food”. I added with a faint smirk, showing her the paper bag of food. “From where?” she queried, shifting lightly on her feet. “Nobu.” I chose there because the first time we met, it was there, so I knew she loved their meal. “Hmmm…”. With that sound, she opened her door for me to enter. Finally, the food did it then. Demetria’s apartment was a cozy blend of modern functionality and personal charm—a space that reflected someone who spent most of her life in the kitchen, yet craved comfort and a little bit of style. The living room was modest but inviting, with a soft gray sectional couch that had clearly

DEMETRIA I shifted and snuggled deeper into the bed. Opening my eyes, I peeped outside; the sun hadn't risen, but it was coming up. It's a new day. Rolling to my left, I checked the time on my phone: 5:44 am. After cumming so hard, I temporarily blacked out. Marion fucked so hard I couldn't even remember my name. He was animalistic and primal, almost as if he was taken over by a possessive beast that had to stake its claim on his territory. He's gone.Leaning my back against the headboard, my body was sore, my throat ached, and my eyes were still heavy with sleep, but I was content. I'm at peace; now my hormones feel settled. Now, what I needed most was a long, hot bath to soothe my aching body.As soon as I got up, I fell back on the bed. I chuckled. Damn, he really worked on my body. I saw a piece of paper on top of my drawer. He left a note.I have an urgent meeting. See you later - M.W.Reading his note gave me flashbacks of last night. I felt different. Marion had made me feel a

DEMETRIAMarion kept staring at me after my little jab. That look in his eyes… it should scare me, but instead, it stirred something deep inside me. I’m turned on. When he once joked about spilling another man’s blood if I dared go on a date, I laughed it off in my head. But now? With his jaw clenched, eyes dark and unyielding. He wasn’t joking anymore.And I couldn’t tell him my “date” was Anastasia. Where would be the fun in that?“Since you’re busy, I’ll leave now.” He finally stood and pulled me into his arms. His embrace sent tingles dancing through my body, and the cedarwood cologne clinging to him made my head spin. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, and damn it, I swooned.“Good,” I said defiantly, masking the warmth spreading through me.He chuckled lowly. “I need some of your cookies. Since you want me gone so badly, I’ll munch on them and remind myself of you.”I stretched out my hand. “Pay up then.”He grinned, sliding his wallet from his back pocket and peeling off five crisp

DEMETRIADriving to the Beverly Hills Hotel, Anastasia sat beside me, talking my ears off. We were already running late for the gala. Dressed in my black gown with my Saint Laurent black heels, I felt every inch the woman ready to face Los Angeles’ wealthiest crowd. The second gown I chose hugged my waistline and flowed down in a soft silk cascade that whispered elegance. My hair had been swept into a low, glossy bun, exposing my neckline, where my diamond drop earrings and the diamond necklace Marion gifted me with caught the soft glow of the passing streetlights. A silver clutch sat on my lap, my manicured nails tapping against it as I pretended to listen to Anastasia’s chatter.“…Are you even listening to me, Demetria?” she asked, raising a brow, her French-manicured nails snapping right in front of my face.I jolted slightly, realizing I’d been staring out the tinted window in traffic, watching the neon glow of Sunset Boulevard. Truthfully, my mind wasn’t with Anastasia. It wasn’t

DEMETRIA July. My month.The air was heavy with the kind of heat that clings to your skin and makes the city feel alive, buzzing. Los Angeles in July has its own rhythm—sunlight spilling like honey across palm-lined streets, the hum of car engines in traffic, and the faint sweetness of summer jasmine carried on the breeze. It was the kind of morning that begged you to slow down, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.I stepped out of my apartment, heels clicking against the pavement, a soft summer dress hugging my body, the fabric light enough to fight the heat. My sunglasses shielded my eyes, but not the small smile tugging at my lips. My birthday was in a few days, and though I hadn’t planned anything extravagant, something about this year felt different.Work was waiting. The bakery always was. By now, the place smelled like me, cinnamon, sugar, a hint of strawberry sweetness that clung to my uniform at work no matter how many times I washed it.My team would already be buzzing inside, prepping