Chapter 1: Sweet Poison
The smell of burnt sugar and cheap cologne is a terrible combination, but at 3:00 AM, it’s my whole world.
I slide another sheet of vanilla tart shells out of the commercial deck oven, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my flour-covered arm. The kitchen of Vance & Co. Artisanal Bakery is freezing, but my chest feels like it’s on fire.
My knuckles are raw. My feet are throbbing. And right under the strap of my faded apron, hidden against my collarbone, is a faint purple mark that didn’t come from a baking sheet.
It came from Leo.
I close my eyes, leaning my head against the cool stainless-steel prep table. I am twenty-one years old, but most nights, I feel eighty. Six months ago, my parents died in a sudden car crash, leaving me two things: a broken heart and a mountain of unpaid bakery debts. Ever since, my life has been a non-stop nightmare of late-night shifts and threatening bank notices.
I’m drowning. And to keep from sinking completely, I’ve turned into a monster who uses men as lifelines.
The heavy back door of the kitchen clicks open. A gust of cold night air sweeps through, carrying the scent of fresh rain and motor oil.
Leo Croft steps inside, shaking wet, dark curls out of his eyes. He’s twenty-two, a messy tattoo artist who lives in the loft apartment right above the bakery. He’s wearing a faded leather jacket, his fingers stained with dark ink.
"You're working too hard, little baker," Leo purrs, stepping close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. He reaches out, his ink-stained fingers catching my chin and tilting my head up. "You promised you'd come upstairs an hour ago."
"I have two hundred croissants to roll, Leo," I whisper, my pulse doing a stupid, fluttery jump.
"The croissants can wait. You can't," he murmurs, stepping right into my personal space. His mouth finds the sensitive spot right beneath my ear, making me gasp.
Leo is pure chaos. He doesn't ask me about my debt. He doesn't ask me about my dead parents. He gives me a distraction when my mind feels like an exploding building. I lean into his kiss, letting the wild heat sweep me away from reality for just ten seconds.
Clack.
The front door key turns in the lock.
I freeze, pushing Leo back so fast I almost knock over a bag of powdered sugar.
"Relax," Leo smirks, wiping a smudge of flour off his lip with his thumb. "It's just your loyal golden retriever."
Julian Reid walks through the swinging kitchen doors, holding a heavy cardboard box of accounting ledgers and two giant iced coffees.
Julian is twenty-four. He’s got messy brown hair, soft amber eyes that look like home, and permanent dark circles under his eyes because he spends every night trying to figure out how to save my business. He’s been my best friend since we were kids. He held me while I screamed at my parents' funeral. He loves me with a quiet, unconditional devotion that makes my stomach turn with guilt.
Because I know I don't deserve him.
"I brought the audited tax files," Julian says softly, setting the coffee on the counter. Then he stops, his eyes darting from me to Leo, who is leaning casually against my dough mixer like he owns the place.
The air in the kitchen instantly goes heavy, thick as unrisen dough.
"Croft," Julian says, his voice flat, devoid of warmth.
"Reid," Leo replies with a lazy, dangerous smirk. "Just making sure the boss lady doesn't pass out from exhaustion."
"She won't. I'm here now," Julian says coolly.
Leo gives me a slow, lingering look that makes my face burn before giving a mock salute. "See you later, Maya. Don't work too hard." He slides out the back door, letting it slam shut.
Silence falls over the room. Julian doesn't yell. He never yells. He just walks over to the prep counter and starts opening the tax folders. But as he reaches for a pencil, his eyes drop to my neck.
The strap of my apron slipped when Leo kissed me. The purple bruise on my collarbone is sitting right there in the bright fluorescent light.
Julian’s hand freezes mid-air. I watch the color drain completely from his face. His jaw clenches so hard a tiny muscle twitches near his ear.
"Julian..." My voice trembles, tears instantly stinging the backs of my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm just... my head is everywhere right now."
Julian slowly pulls his hand back. He looks at me with an expression so filled with quiet, devastating heartbreak that I feel like I've been stabbed in the chest.
"Is your head everywhere, Maya?" Julian whispers, his voice cracking just a tiny bit. "Or are you just everywhere?"
He doesn't wait for an answer. He grabs an apron from the wall hook, ties it around his waist, and starts prepping dough for the morning rush—working in complete, suffocating silence beside me.
I stand there, unable to breathe. I am holding Julian’s heart in my hands, and I keep dropping it on the floor.
Suddenly, my personal phone vibrates on the counter. A text from an unknown number lights up the screen:
‘The lease on your bakery expires at midnight. If you want a renewal, my car is waiting downstairs. — Gabriel Vance.’
