He snaps his fingers, producing the agreement we both signed. His stubby fingers point to a spot where there’s the tiniest font ever created—it’s writing so small, you almost have to use a magnifying glass to read it. “See? It says so right here. As a renter of one of my buildings, if you use the residence to sell goods of any kind, twenty percent of all earnings go to the landlord. It’s right there in the fine print.”
“You mean tiny print. I can barely read that!” My nose scrunches in disbelief as he holds out his portly hand.
“Since you sold out of product, I’m assuming you have the money readily available.”
The money Krampus gave me sits heavy in my pocket. “I was going to use the money to buy more product since it will be a few days before I receive the money he paid with his card. I’ll be baking all night just to replenish half of what I sold today.”
“I’m sure you can figure it out, Ms. St. John. You’re a beautiful and resourceful woman.”
Chills run up my spine. Nothing about this feels right. “This doesn’t seem legal,” I argue, even though I don’t know if I can.
He shrugs, his shoulders lifting them in indifference. “Well, we can findotherways to compensate for your percentage. But that’s up to you… a contract is a contract, and you agreed to pay me a portion of all sales you receive within my building when you signed your lease agreement.”
Gross! Is the man really propositioning me for sex?Without any hesitation, I count out six hundred-dollar bills and place them in his grubby little hands. “Twenty percent of the three thousand is six hundred dollars. Here you go.”
He frowns, obviously wanting to make a deal for my body that I’m not willing to give. His hand curls around the bills as he slowly takes a step back. “I will see you tomorrow, Ms. St. John.”
Is this going to become an everyday thing? Is this man going to strong arm me for money every day, all because I rent his building?The thought sours my stomach as he exits, the stupid bell announcing his exit like a king’s precession.
“Fudge sticks,” I grumble, trying to figure out the best way to make enough product to fill my shelves in the morning. “This may be an all-nighter.” Had I planned better, I could’ve been baking the day away, creating fresh goods to sell tomorrow. Butit looks like I’m stuck with only four hundred dollars to buy more supplies, and only me to bake them.
It's going to take a cupcake miracle for me to pull this one off.
ChapterSix
Krampus
“You’ve lost your fucking mind!” Drac yells as Gremlin and the rest of the prospects march in with arms full of baked goods.
“Maybe,” I grump, grabbing a fresh donut out of one of the boxes as Wolfie passes by. It’s covered in thick chocolate icing, and the actual cake part of the donut is heavenly.
“What are we going to do with all this shit?”
“Eat it,” Gremlin answers for me. “You should try the cinnamon rolls; they’re fucking delicious.”
Drac folds his arms over his chest just as Amber and Giovanni appear in the kitchen. They don’t come around the club much, so seeing them both is a bit of a surprise.
“What’s all this?” Amber questions, her eyes darting from one pastry to the next.
“Apparently our breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next few weeks,” Drac grumbles. “Krampus has lost his fucking damn mind.”
“He was trying to impress a girl,” Gremlin pipes in. “Ended up buying out her whole shop. Well, except for the cinnamon rollI bought. Technically, I was her first customer.” He puffs out his chest, a look of pride skirting his eyes.
“Wait a minute! Are you saying that you went into a bakery and bought out all the stock inside?” Her tone is a bit off-putting. Amber never yells, but for some reason, she looks angry.
My hand scrubs the back of my neck, cowering under her heated gaze. She’s probably the only woman in the world capable of making me back down. “Well, yeah. She didn’t have any sales, and her shop was about to close. I didn’t want her to get discouraged.”
“Her?”
“Mindy. The shop owner.”
She gives me a pointed look, with a single brow raising in disapproval. “And exactly how many workers did she have there with her?” Amber questions, her eyes darting around the room, almost as if she’s counting each pastry in her head and checking them off.
“Just her, I guess.”
“Fuck, Rich, do you realize what you’ve done?”
“Helped a woman sell out on her first day?” Not sure why I’m questioning her, but I am.
