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He doesn’t release me once I’m standing on the sidewalk. Instead, he reels me in and kisses me sweetly. Sighing, he looks down at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
“Come on, I bet Nero will be here too.”
“Who’s Nero?” I ask.
“He’s our team’s second and the boss’s brother. He lives on our row, Tori is his fiancée, and she owns this store,” Oz explains.
“Oh,” I say, suddenly nervous.
“Come on, you’ll love her,” Oz says enthusiastically, tugging me to the door and then into the store.
The smell of butter and sugar hits me the moment I step across the threshold, and I inhale deeply. The store is small, with a handful of bistro tables sitting in the large glass storefront. The majority of the space is filled by the huge glass counter that’s packed with beautiful, delicious-looking cakes that I’ve never seen before. There are flaky pastries, colorful macarons, and tarts filled with fruit and cream and chocolate.
“Oh, my,” I gasp, spotting more the closer we get.
“Morning, Oz,” the young girl behind the counter says.
“Hey, is Tori in?” he asks.
“I’ll go call her,” the girl says.
“I don’t even know what most of these cakes are, but I want to try them all,” I murmur absently, my hand pressed against the glass like a child in a candy store.
“Those things are freaking amazing,” Oz says, pointing to a pastry case filled with some kind of cream or custard, then piled with shiny, glazed fruit. “And the macarons, especially the pistachio ones, if that’s what those green ones are, they’re my favorite.”
“I thought your favorite ones were the blackcurrant violet ones I made last week,” a stunning brunette woman says from the doorway behind the counter.
“Oh, I forgot about those, they were so fucking good,” Oz says, smiling widely at her.
A pang of unexpected jealousy tugs low in my stomach and has me assessing the woman more carefully as I try to decide if she’s competition. I have never, ever felt this way in my life before. I’m not the girl who competes with other girls. I’m the girl who turns and walks away. Not that the guys I’ve gone for in the past have had other women fighting to steal them away. In fact, most were so terrified of women that they found me intimidating.
“Etta, this is Tori. She owns this place, and she’s the reason I have to run twice as much as I had to before she started feeding the entire team sweets on a regular basis.”
I guess it should have been obvious that this is Tori. She’s dressed in a white chef’s jacket, with an apron around her waist and a cloth tucked into the strings.
“Nice to meet you, Tori, this all looks incredible,” I say, my voice small as embarrassment fills my cheeks.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too,” Tori says, looking at Oz like she’s waiting for him to introduce me.
“Tori, this is my wife, Etta,” Oz tells her without an ounce of build-up or preamble.
“I’m sorry.” Her brow wrinkles in confusion. “Did you just say she’s your wife?”
Chuckling softly, Oz, pulls me to him, wrapping his arm around me possessively. “Yes, you heard right, this is my wife.”
Blinking, Tori looks from Oz to me, then back to Oz again, before she turns on her heel and disappears into the back of the shop. “Nero. Nero, I need you now!” she yells.
“What’s happening?” I whisper to Oz. “Should we leave? Oh my god, did you have a girlfriend that you conveniently forgot to mention?” I gasp, trying to twist out of his arms.
“Stop,” he growls against my ear, his hold on me tightening.
“Oz?”
“Stop moving,” he snaps, and I comply, freezing.
“Now, settle down. She’s a little shocked, that’s all. I haven’t had a girlfriend since I was in high school, and I already told you that you’re my one, my fucking everything, so stop freaking out and behave.”
The undeniable order in his tone calms me instead of riling me like it should, and I feel myself settle, just like he told me to.
