Pure Lust: The Complete Series Box Set (43 page)

He popped it in his mouth and I watched as he started to chew and then stop. He paused as if thinking his taste buds were telling him wrong and then he continued, gamely swallowing.

“What do you think?” I asked him cheerfully.

“Ah…” With deliberate care, he placed the plate on a nearby table and used the designer napkin to wipe his lips. “What did you think?”

“I hate it.” I shrugged. My mother would have been appalled to even consider it food. But then again, Mama wouldn’t have been putting me through this ordeal like Claire was. We would’ve been going with a small, family-owned bakery. One who spent as much time on making things taste good as look good. “I’m ready to try the next place.”

“Gabriella,” Claire said, her voice low and furious. She came over to us and actually reached out to grab my arm.

I stepped back. “Don’t.” The word was flat.

“Mother,” Edward said soothingly. “Please.”

She opened and closed her mouth, no words coming out.

He looked from her to Madame Durant, an apologetic smile on his lips. “We’ve had a trying few days, Madame. My fiancée is still stressed over the incident at Hugo Towers—I was one of…well.”

He managed a deprecating smile.

Madame still looked livid, but I saw the moment she decided to save face. He was, after all, a Bouvier.

“Oh, my dear.” She gave me a look of sympathy. It wasn’t real, but she’d play her part and pretend to understand.

Managing not to roll my eyes, I let Edward wrap his arm around my shoulders and pull me against him. I could play nice. Sometimes.

A few minutes later, we were out on the sidewalk and I looked up at him. I needed to clarify something, but the others didn’t need to hear it. Only Edward did. “I want you to understand something. I am stressed, but that cake was awful.”

“It was,” Edward agreed with a half grin.

Claire wheeled on both of us, but it was me who received the brunt of her rant. “You are the rudest woman.”

“I am not ordering a cake that nobody wants to eat.” I was polite, but firm.

“Nobody
eats
at a wedding. They’re there to see the bride and groom!” She threw up her hands as if this bit of information was completely obvious.

I gaped at her and then looked at Estelle. “Is this a New York thing or just something that happens here in the north? Because I’ve been to weddings, and I have definitely eaten at them. I’ll damn well eat at mine, so I’ll want good that I can enjoy.”

“That’s it.” Edward stepped between us, looking from me to his mother. He took a deep, slow breath, held it a moment and then blew it out. Finally, he focused on Claire. “Mother, I understand you want to help—”

“Thank you,” she interrupted. “Now will you please talk some sense—?”

“Mom.” As he stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, she lapsed into silence, waiting to get her own way as always. “Mom, please. This is our wedding. The situation at the bank made me take a good, hard look at things. I’ve left most of this in Gabriella’s—and your—hands and I shouldn’t have. I appreciate how much you’ve been helping her, but it should have been me working with her, and from now on, it will be. Why don’t you have Paul take you home or to the club? We can take it from here.”

***

We were mostly quiet on the drive to the next bakery, an older place in Brooklyn. Estelle was busy with her smartphone, though I wasn’t entirely sure she was actually doing anything. I had a feeling she didn’t want to look like she had taken anyone’s side and I didn’t blame her. Crossing either Edward or Claire could make her business very difficult.

Finally, I couldn’t take the silence anymore. Looking over at Edward, I touched his hand. “Your mother has been driving me crazy, Edward, but I probably didn’t do anything to help.”

He studied me thoughtfully.

I continued my confession, “After we got back from Tennessee, she started saying thoughtless things about my family, so I started being snide.” I shrugged and turned towards the window. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her intentionally, but the one thing I can’t ignore is people being rude about my family. She doesn’t even know them.”

Edward sighed and patted the seat next to him. I slid as close as the seat belt would allow and rested my head against his shoulder as the hired town car wove in and out of traffic. “I can understand that, Gabriella. I feel the same way. I’d be angry because you have been rather rude, but I know how my mother is, and I should have considered that before I left her to help you with the wedding plans.”

He kissed the top of my head.

“So we’re good?”

“Yes.” He paused and then said, “That cake was awful.”

I smothered a laugh against his arm. “You only had the one bite. I had to try three.”

“Imagine going there every other week because some bride insists that having a cake from some ritzy French bakery is more important than having one she’d enjoy.”

Both of us looked over at Estelle who was nose deep in whatever she was dealing with.

She looked up and, for one brief moment, she smiled at us.

Then she was back to work.

Edward and I laughed.

***

The third time was the charm.

It came from a little hole in the wall somewhere near SoHo. It wasn’t much to look at, but the moment we went inside, I knew we’d found the place. The scents made my mouth water pretty much immediately and the cake on display in the window was every bit as beautiful as the ones we’d seen at Bonbon.

The place was simply called Honey’s and when we walked in, a tall, statuesque black woman came in from the back, smiling at us. “Gabriella?” she said. Her accent was pure, southern gold and I immediately felt at home.

“That’d be me.”

Her eyes brightened. “Well, I’ll be. Where you from, honey?”

I hadn’t realized I’d let my accent slip back in until she asked, but I didn’t bother hiding it again as I answered her question, “Tennessee. You sound like Georgia or Alabama.”

“Georgia. Spent the first thirty years of my life down near Gulf Shores.” She slid her amber eyes over toward Edward. Moving out from behind the counter, she said, “Hello. You must be Edward. I’m Honey.”

He nodded and shook her hand, looking around the small bakery. It was simple, but beautifully decorated, the design minimalist, keeping the focus on the cakes.

Within a few minutes, she had us seated, small plates in front of us and a pitcher of ice water next to small, plain cups.

She offered the standards, chocolate and yellow. Each one was better than the last. Then she brought out hazelnut and Edward and I both laughed. It made up for the travesty that had been offered earlier. Even Estelle cracked a smile at that one.

Then Honey really brought the game. Peach. Cinnamon apple. Peanut butter. Chocolate peanut butter. Raspberry lemon—

“I’m gonna die.” I moaned my way through the sweet-tart explosion on my tongue and looked up at her. “How out of place is raspberry lemon at a fall wedding?”

Her laugh was rich and full, filling the bakery. “Sweetheart, this is your wedding. You don’t worry about place. You worry about what you like.”

I felt tears pricking at my eyes. It was the first time someone had truly said that to me with sincerity. I pushed that aside.

Sliding Edward a look, I saw that he was still savoring the chocolate peanut butter, his eyes mostly closed. He caught me watching him and he shrugged. “She’s right. It’s our wedding. We’ll need several cakes.” He paused and studied Honey. “We’re seating about four hundred. You can handle that?”

“Absolutely.” She didn’t even look ruffled.

“Then we’ll order several varieties. Whatever you think would be appealing for fall, Gabriella. But our cake will be the one you like. The wedding cake we share.”

***

Later that night, I leaned against him as he sipped from a glass of bourbon. I had peach sweet tea. I’d been craving it ever since I talked to Honey and I’d made some as soon as we got back. It had made Edward chuckle, but then he’d kissed the top of my head and said that he was glad to see me smile.

Now, as the quiet of the night settled around us, I thought back over the day.

It had been the easiest one yet, as far as wedding planning had gone. Everything was falling into place, really. Edward was helping. His mother hadn’t sent me a single text or called even once, not after Edward had told her he’d be helping me now.

“Thank you,” I said softly, staring into the darkened hearth of the fire place.

“For what?” He toyed with the ends of my hair, wrapping them around his fingers over and over as he took another sip from his drink.

“For today. For helping. For being there.”

He made a low noise under his throat and leaned in, kissing my forehead.

It felt nice. It
was
nice.

Nice.

I was getting married soon and all I could think about planning my wedding with my fiancé, about curling up with him afterwards, was that it felt nice.

Why didn’t that feel right?

Why didn’t it feel like enough?

Chapter 4

Lips pursed, I stared between my bank balance and the money I owed, as if looking more than once would change anything.

The good news was that I actually had money left over in my checking account after I’d finished paying all my bills this month. The bad news was that I still owed money and that there was nothing coming in. If I’d still been living with Kendra and paying rent, I would’ve been completely screwed.

The luck I’d had in securing a job?

Nada
.

The luck I’d had in getting any interest in the projects I’d been working so hard on?

Less
than nada. If such a thing existed.

I couldn’t even get an agent to talk to me. I felt like a leper.

Maybe I was trying to make it in the wrong arena. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be writing for television. Honestly, I just wanted to write. I wanted to entertain people and give them a chance to escape into fiction for a while. There were a lot of ways to do that. I just needed to find the way that was best suited to me, right?

But so far, I hadn’t had any luck finding anything.

The only way I’d been able to make any money...

“Don’t.”

Chewing on the tip of my pen, I shoved the glimmer of an idea out of my head and focused on the budget I’d been crafting. If I kept to it, then I should have enough money to last me a couple more months of job searching without having to borrow from Edward, which I definitely didn’t want to do.

I ignored the little voice that said by then, Edward and I would be married and I wouldn’t need to worry about money. I was determined to contribute. I wasn’t going to give any ammunition to anyone who thought I was marrying Edward for his money.

“Gabriella?”

I jolted at my desk. Edward had set it up for me in his study just a few days ago so we could work together without intruding on each other’s space. It was a cute little thing that perfectly complimented his furniture. It almost looked like it belonged there. More than I did, anyway.

Clutching my pen, I looked up and forced a smile. “Hello.”

“Working on the new assignment?” He smiled at me from the other side of the desk. He never came around to my side and I’d figured out why. He believed I was working under that NDA. He didn’t want to jeopardize it. My little lie.

“A few odds and ends.” I shrugged. I hated lying to him, even if it was a lie of omission.

Edward nodded. “I won’t be late tonight.” He hesitated a moment and then let his gaze drop to my mouth. “I’m looking forward to spending the evening with you.”

Biting my lip, I nodded slowly. There was a time when that look would have filled me with such a rush of heat, I might have gone after him then and there. Now, I simply smiled. It would be a nice thing to look forward to.

Later.

And son of a bitch, how messed up was that?

***

It was desperation that drove me to it. I’d swear that in front of a court of law, my best friend, my fiancé, and my mother. That was what I insisted, even to myself as I walked up to the door of Flynn’s studio. I hadn’t called.

I’d just stared at that number in my checkbook. The balance with not nearly enough zeroes and I’d realized if I didn’t secure a job and soon, that balance would soon be zero.

I’d enjoyed working for Flynn when he kept his hands to himself.

I almost felt like me in front of the camera, in front of him.

And I’d enjoyed all the ways modeling didn’t make me feel like me. I loved knowing that people saw me in those images and found me attractive, even if they didn’t know it was me. I loved feeling sexy and powerful, and this was the only place I’d ever felt that way. Here, with him.

It wasn’t only about the way I felt about myself though. I was doing what I needed to do to provide for myself. I even understood where that base need came from.