I shuffle on my feet as the elevator doors slide open. I’m curious why they’re here and uncomfortable as fuck because I don’t know what to do with myself, so I shove my hands into the back pockets of my shorts and wait.
The first to step out is a curvy woman—arrestingly beautiful. Natural caramel highlights thread through her wavy brunette hair, which she styled half-up. Her floor-length sundress swishes between her legs as she saunters toward me, a protective hand thrown over her swollen belly. “Hey, I hope you don’t mind we’re ambushing you,” she tells me. A warm smile tilts her lips upward.
“Sheesh, you weren’t kidding when you said this place is swanky,” the other woman says after letting out a whistle, her mesmerizing citrine eyes sweeping over the first floor of the penthouse in awe. She follows close behind, and I recognize her as the gorgeous bartender from Sin. “I can’t believe Kaiden never invited all of us over. The uptight, broody bastard was probably concerned we would soil his pristine marble floor.”
I chuckle at that. If I wasn’t sure when I first saw her in the club, the overhead lights make her relationship to Loganeven clearer now. She has the same smooth amber skin—which is accentuated by the tangerine linen dress she’s wearing—and bouncy ash-brown curls, though hers reach her shoulders. She strides to the kitchen, holding two paper bags.
The curvy brunette stops in front of me. “Logan mentioned you were alone in the penthouse, and we thought you might want some company. I’m Ava, by the way. Logan’s wife.”
“I’m Iris. Um, nice to meet you,” I say, thrusting my right hand in her direction. She bypasses it to envelop me in a hug. After I pat her back awkwardly, she disentangles herself from me, and we both amble to the kitchen.
“I’m Emily,” the other woman chimes in. “Maybe you remember me from Sin.”
“Yeah, I do,” I tell her, then offer a toothless smile.
Emily takes out a bottle of liquor from one of the bags. “We were dying to meet the woman Kaiden is crazy about. I swear Logan keeps his lips sealed tighter than the Pentagon’s vault. He wouldn’t give us any details, so we took the matter into our own hands.”
“And we wanted to check up on you after what happened at Sin. How are you feeling?” Ava inquires, concern shining in her sea-foam green eyes as she sits down on a bar stool with the grace of a ballerina.
“My ribs still hurt, and I feel as though two giants used my head to play volleyball, but aside from that, I’m pretty much okay. My best friend made me a healing potion, and it’s working better than expected.” I clear my throat. “She’s a light witch.” Striding to where Emily is rummaging through the bag at the counter, I ask, “Do you need any help?”
She hands me two boxes that have the name Silver Moon Bakery written above a crescent moon in beautiful penmanship. “Just take these, and I’m going to start the cocktails,” Emily instructs as she fishes out all the bottles, a few utensils, and acocktail shaker. “Do you know where the glasses are?”
“Third cabinet to your right.” I place the boxes on top of the bar in front of Ava.
“It sucks that Malik isn’t here to heal you, but I heard he should be back soon. You look pretty good considering what you’ve been through,” Ava tells me.
“Yeah…”
Emily turns, facing us. Her forehead crinkles as her eyebrows knit, and when her gaze flicks to mine, it’s brimming with regret. “I’m sorry that piece of shit drugged you on my shift. I usually watch the bar like a hawk for creeps. But immediately after I gave you the water, I took my break, and when I came back, you weren’t there anymore—”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault,” I interrupt.
“At least he got what he deserved,” Ava cuts in after a few beats of awkward silence.
As I take a seat next to her at the bar, I notice the faded scar on her right cheek that goes from the corner of her lips all the way to her earlobe. The scar doesn’t deter from her beauty—it only makes it more striking.
Ava’s eyebrows furrow as she nervously brings her fingers to the raised skin before trying to cover it with her hair. However, she realizes she has tied up the front pieces. Sighing, she places her hand on her lap.
Fuck. I’m such an asshole. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stare,” I blurt out. Heat crawls on the back of my neck. “I have a lot of scars too, from fighting demons, and I was just thinking it enhances your beauty and makes you look badass.”
She flaps her hand in the air as if it’s a non-issue, then beams at me. “S’okay, don’t worry about it. For the first few months, it made me really self-conscious, and I would try everything to cover it, but eventually, I became used to it, and now it’s part of me. It’s proof that I survived,” Ava says while opening the boxes.
I’m curious how she got it, but she would have shared that if she wanted to, so I don’t ask. Two boxes overflow with mouth-watering pastries—mini round cakes and eclairs in a medley of flavors. If I were alone right now, I would stuff my face, but I’ve already shown how poor my people skills are, and I don’t want them to think I’m a Neanderthal.
“C’mon, take something,” Ava says, pushing the sweets-filled boxes toward me on the bar.
“I don’t know what to pick. Everything looks delicious.”
“Try this one. It’s my favorite.” She points to the biggest pastry in the box, roll-shaped and filled with white cream. She then takes one of her own and bites into it encouragingly.
I gingerly pick it up. As soon as my teeth sink into the buttery, flaky texture, my tastebuds start doing thecha, cha, cha. “Holy shit! This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.”
Ava radiates happiness at my remark while she takes another bite of her roll.
“Ava made it. She owns the bakery. Actually, it’s bakeries; she opened a second one a month ago,” Emily chimes in as she strides to the fridge.
My eyebrows shoot up. “I know you’re married to Logan, but I’m seriously thinking about proposing to you right now,” I say through a mouthful. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard of your bakery before. Prepare to get sick seeing my face almost every day from now on.”
