Page 6 of Twins with Daddy’s Bestie

“I'm sorry about what happened last night.” I set the tray back on the table, watching him carefully to see what he does. “I worked very hard to make a wide variety of things to impress you. I had no idea Rita would be with someone, and I definitely didn't know she would be with someone who didn't know her name.”

A smile crosses his lips for the first time, but there is no joy in it. It's smug as he raises his eyebrows. Damn it, he somehow looks even better like that, and my heart plummets to my stomach and swirls around. “Do you want to know what happened to me after last night?”

I nod and wait for him to elaborate. If he's going to be an asshole, I won’t hold my punches anymore, either. “You mean after Rhea—I mean Rita—called you a silver-spooned womanizing fuckboy prick?”

He pauses, almost as if his mind is rebooting after I repeated the insult during a job interview. “Precisely.” He takes a deep breath and leans forward while looking me deep in the eyes. “Every entertainment news outlet is sharing pictures of me climbing into an Uber in only a towel. I've lost investors because of that incident. You knocking on her door and getting me kicked out has cost my company millions of dollars.”

I raise my eyebrows as I listen. Does he expect me to feel sorry for him? I'm a little amused at his ability to blame anyone but himself. He doesn’t appear to be hurting for money, which makes the fact that he's as good-looking and muscular as he is even more obnoxious.

Instead of feeling guilty for dating so many women that he can't keep their names straight, he blames the person who inadvertently got him caught. I feel like I did Rita a favor. This man wasn't going to stick around, and I saved her a heartbreak. But to him, I'm the bad guy.

People like him are out of touch.

“I can tell you're hurting after all of this.” I look around at the obscenely large office space with a prime view of the city. Luxury furniture and expensive commissioned paintings that I'm sure cost more than the potential salary I would have earned in the position I'm being interviewed for fill every possible space. “You're obviously not going to hire me, so I'm going to get out of here. Thank you for the opportunity.”

He laughs and leans back again, but not before grabbing one of the butterscotch muffins off the tray. I roll my eyes and pick up the rest of the baked goods before he can try any of them. He doesn't get to be an asshole and enjoy the fruits of my labor.

I'm about to leave when he takes the first bite of his muffin, and his eyes widen as he moans. It takes everything in me not to laugh at his reaction. I know they're good, but come on.

Drake is obvious as he tries to hide the look on his face. He clears his throat and sets the muffin on the desk in front of him, looking at me with his eyebrows furrowed.

“They're good, aren't they?” I smirk and hold the tray in my hands, taunting him with the rest of the pastries.

“Leonard said you knew how to cook,” Drake finally says, gesturing for me to sit back down.

I hesitate, contemplating if I want this job even if he offers it to me. He's already treated me like dirt, and working under an employer like that sounds like a nightmare. But I'm also desperate.

“We got off on the wrong foot, and I'm genuinely sorry if my actions hurt you,” I say as I take a seat in front of him. “I graduated with two associates degrees from The Culinary Institute of America, and I’m trained in baking and traditional cooking. I've interned under Michelin Star chefs. Having me in your kitchen will be nothing but a benefit for you. I can bake fresh bagels and muffins for your staff every day, and any meal you want me to make, I can competently provide.”

I straighten my spine and make sure I don't come across as too needy. I'm confident I would be a good person for this position, and he’s a fool if he doesn't see that.

He stares at me for a few moments, contemplating whether to let bygones be bygones and hire somebody fitting for the position. Eventually, he takes a deep breath and leans forward, his light brown eyes glued to me.

“I'll give you one chance,” he says, and I'm shaking with excitement. “That was probably the best muffin I've ever eaten. Plus, if I don't do this, your dad is going to kill me. But I'm going to be watching you. Consider this a trial run.”

I hold my hand out to shake his, and he pauses before shaking it reluctantly.

“You won’t regret this,” I say before standing up and walking toward the door, leaving the pastries behind as a parting gift.

“I sincerely hope not,” Drake mutters as I walk out, feeling as light as the filling in my perfectly cooked muffins.

4

Drake

It took me three days to convince my father to come back and consider investing in my company. As I expected, the media stopped covering me and my towel within the 24-hour news cycle. I might have paparazzi following me from time to time, but I'm not a celebrity, and I definitely haven't been implicated in any scandals taking precedence in the news.

The day after the news broke about my love affair gone wrong, the rest of the world all but forgot about it. I hope my father can join them.

Walking into the office with the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air is welcoming. Olivia has been working here for two days, and she's already a favorite among my staff. No matter where I am in the office, someone is raving about her bagels and the meals she’s prepared for them.

I have been avoiding her. We got off on the wrong foot and she apologized, but it's in my best interest to stay away. Leonard is my best friend, and Olivia is his only child. The last thing I want is for the two of us to get into some kind of a tiff and have her complain to him. I work out a lot, but Leonard owns the gym I visit and can use his MMA training against me if he wants to.

“Good morning,” Olivia says as I walk by the open kitchen in front of the cafe I had built into the office. She smiles, and it's hard to stay annoyed. Her natural blonde hair is tied into a neat bun with a few wavy tendrils falling around her face, begging me to look into her baby blue eyes. Seeing her hair this morning, I'm reminded of my initial impression from a few nights ago. I thought she was gorgeous and funny. I still think that, but now she’s an employee. Even entertaining the idea of taking her out to dinner is an HR violation waiting to happen.

“Morning,” I say before turning away and heading to my office.

Of course, I have a clear view of everything in the office through the glass doors. The previous tenants preferred a more panopticon way of work, where the manager could surveil every employee to make sure they were working. I don't have to do that with my staff, but I enjoy the open atmosphere of the glass walls.