(Scarlett's POV)
Three days of whirlwind preparation later, I'm standing outside the glass storefront of what will be my first chain location, my hands shaking as I fumble with the keys.
"Nervous?" Dorian asks, appearing at my elbow with two cups of coffee.
"Terrified," I admit, accepting the cup gratefully. The warmth seeps through my palms, steadying me.
"That's normal. Andrew will be here any minute – he's the best baker I know outside of you. Twenty years of experience, worked at some of the finest establishments in the city."
I nod, though my stomach churns. Letting someone else handle my recipes, my techniques, my carefully crafted methods – it feels like handing over my child to a stranger.
"What if he doesn't get it right? What if the bread tastes different? What if—"
"Scarl
