The Auctioned Bride
“If you insist on throwing me a party, at least let me be part of it.”
He smirked. “Fine. You can help.”
“Good,” I said, taking the paper from his hands. “Now show me the cake list.”
By noon, I was sitting at the long kitchen counter, surrounded by plates of cakes and frosting samples. There was red velvet, vanilla cream, caramel drizzle, lemon tart… and Valerio, hovering beside me like a very proud event planner.
“Alright,” he said, watching me cut another small piece. “This is cake number five. Do you remember the others?”
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