THE BILLIONAIRE BRIDE

CHAPTER TWO

Sarah stepped into the bakery, feeling a mix of nerves and anxiety. For the first time in a while, she felt weak, and coupled with the fact that she was hungry, if Catherine hadn't been holding her hand, her knees might have given way. She had eaten just once in the last two days, and the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread wasn't helping at all. Although Catherine had assured her that she would get the job, she knew that the interview with Catherine's cousin would be what would decide her fate. She was also aware that if she didn't get this job, she might have to do something extremely desperate, like asking the homeless woman she had seen on the street, whom she had given her most treasured coat to, where the nearest soup kitchen was.

Thinking about it now, she realized that maybe it had not been such a great idea to give the woman her brother's coat, which she loved so much. But when she had noticed the woman shivering in the chilly weather from the car, she had asked Catherine to pull over. Now, her clothes weren't appropriate for an interview; dressed in a worn blue ripped jean that was almost faded, she knew she was far from looking professional. Although she had seen designer jeans in magazines that were sometimes ripped, the difference was that hers just happened to be a real tear.

"Wow, today happens to be a busy day," Catherine uttered, interrupting her from her reverie.

Sarah glanced around. They were inside the bakery already, and truly, it was a full house.

"Seems like a popular place to me," Sarah responded.

She had to respond or at least say something. The drive to the bakery from the bus station had Catherine doing most of the talking, if not all, because, well, Sarah couldn’t talk without wanting to break down or burst into tears, and she couldn’t afford to do that in front of her friend, who had been nothing but a good friend to her and a support system.

"I told you!" Catherine exclaimed. "People troop in daily. My cousin is good at what he does." She beamed with pride.

Holding her hand, Catherine ushered her to a chair by the window. "Let’s wait here until Johannes has a couple of minutes to see you."

Sarah doubted that he would get those couple of minutes anytime soon, given the crowd she saw in the bakery. Now, she had no choice but to sit and take in all those delicious aromas that made her stomach growl and made her feel nauseous. She didn’t want to throw up in the bakery, as she was certain that wouldn’t get her the job, but her stomach was so empty. She had spent every penny she had to take the bus coming to Chicago, and now she had barely anything left for good food and clothing. She knew she had to get this job. With the little money left, she could go a week if she was very careful, but nothing longer than that. But she was sure that if Catherine’s cousin didn’t come anytime soon, she might not even last that one week. She was shivering from the chilly weather; the wild storm that had met her on her way to the bus station had gotten her shoes all soaked. The soles were already worn out, so the water could get in easily. Not only was she cold, but her toes were also frozen.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the frightened gaze she saw on Catherine’s face. She followed the direction of her friend’s stare and noticed that everyone present inside the bakery had also turned pale, their eyes fixed in one direction. There was a bit of a cold air that swept through the bakery. Tracing the direction of their gazes, she froze. She had never in her life seen a man look more gorgeous and more dangerous all at the same time. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and artfully handsome. His hair was black, a bit messy, she was guessing that was due to the fresh air, but still laid back to perfection, as if it refused to disobey him.

He wore a three-piece blue striped suit that she would have sworn was customized just for him and might have cost a fortune. His tie, a darker shade of blue to match the blue striped suit and was worn over a lighter shade of blue shirt, topped off with a six-button overcoat, each button made from pearls that hinted at bespoke craftsmanship. Even his shoes looked like he had spent a million dollars on them. His gloves would have cost more than her entire outfit, and his watch…. oh! it looked as if what he spent to purchase it would have been able to buy a car. Who was he? His presence had made every conversation cease, and now all eyes were on him. No one so much as whispered, no one moved; it was as if they were all frozen to the spot. His eyes swept through the room, taking everything and everyone in before they finally came back to her. Settling on her. Narrowed.

The impact was undeniable. It was as if he could see through her, reading her mind and connecting with her emotions. Her breath caught in her lungs when his gaze drifted over her, taking in her appearance. She felt a chill run down her spine; she had to resist the urge to pull the hem of her sweater down to cover her waist, although her fingers automatically curled around it to do just that. His eyes traveled down her ripped jeans, her soaked shoes, and back to her face, and at that point, she felt as though the ground could swallow her up. He looked at her now as though he was angry. Tension filled the air, and not only she realized it; everyone present in the bakery also seemed to be aware of the change in his demeanor. The air in the room vibrated with his fury. She found herself trembling with fear; she didn’t know why he had singled her out, but he had, and now, with his gaze fixated on her, she had nowhere to run.

"Mr. Reginald!" Catherine’s cousin finally found his voice.

Johannesburg James had a scowl of concern on his face that matched his tone of respect, although he looked as if, given a chance, he would faint at any moment. Sarah didn’t understand what was going on, but it was clear everyone in the room was aware, including her best friend, whose hand began to tremble. There was one fact known to Sarah, everyone present in the bakery was afraid of him. But why? Who was he? She wished so much that he would stop staring at her.

At that point, Mr. Johannesburg had gone in front of him, setting himself as a prey right in front of a predator and shielding her from his scrutiny, which she was mostly thankful for. But his gaze didn’t waver, not even for a moment, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he didn’t blink either, not even once. Suddenly, the path to her cleared like the Red Sea, and she felt more vulnerable and exposed. At that moment, she couldn’t even ask Catherine who he was, why everyone seemed to be scared of him, or why she was the object of his scrutiny and his anger.

Everything in her stilled. Unless he knew. Oh God. How was that possible?