“I could go to prison,” she said quietly. “I broke the law by marrying him. If Cole finds out I’ve committed a crime, he’ll be forced to act on the information. It’s his job, Maya. I could never put him in the position of having to lie for me, even if it’s a lie of omission.” She turned away and started rearranging the pastries in the display, making sure there were no gaps where some had been sold.
“Besides,” she said, setting her tongs down, “even if I wasn’t worried about going to prison, I can’t tell anyone.”
“Why not?”
“Because Diego has threatened to hurt my mom if I do.”
“The rat bastard!” Maya said.
Aria’s eyes widened. She’d never heard her boss curse before.
“But if we just—”
“Please, Maya, I’m begging you. Don’t say anything to Cole about this. It’s my mess. I’ll deal with it myself, okay?”
Maya opened her mouth to reply when the door to the bakery opened and a tall, dark-haired man walked in. He smiled at them pleasantly.
“Good morning,” he greeted them.
Aria would have recognized that accent anywhere. A shudder ran through her. Mexican. She swallowed hard, irritated with herself. Just because Diego was a bad penny didn’t mean anyone who shared his accent was the same.
“Good morning,” she said brightly. “How can I help you?”
He peered into the glass counter that held a myriad of sweet pastries. “I don’t know, what would you recommend?”
“Everything is good here,” Aria said. “The cinnamon buns are to die for. Oh! The cinnamon buns! I was going to check on them!”
“I’ll go,” Maya said with a grin.
When her boss disappeared into the kitchen, Aria turned expectantly back to the man.
“Decided what you’d like?”
“I see one thing I like,” he said cryptically.
A blush spread across Aria’s cheeks. Was he flirting with her?
“I’ll take one of those sticky pastries,” he said, pointing to a honeyed bun.
“Okay, sure.” Aria grabbed the bun with the tongs, then slid it into a paper bag.
“Anything else?”
He grinned. “How about a date?”
“Oh, um, thanks for asking, but I’m married.”
She held up her hand to show him her wedding ring. She hated telling people that when she knew her marriage was a sham. It felt dishonest, somehow. She had known when she married Diego that it would be the end of her dating life for the foreseeable future, but there was no price she wouldn’t have paid to raise the money for her mom’s treatment. Even now that she knew what type of man Diego was, she was convinced that she’d done the right thing. But every day she wondered if there had been some other way to get the money she needed for her mom without having to take such drastic measures.
“That’s a shame,” the customer said. “Your husband is a very lucky man.”
Aria smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment as she handed him the pastry and took payment. He turned to leave, but swung around at the last moment.
“You be sure to tell your husband to cherish every moment he has with you—because we never know when our time is up.”
It was a strange thing to say, but before she had even formulated a reply, the man was already walking out onto the street.
“See you soon, beautiful!” he said over his shoulder.
