“Babyccino for Lion?” she chimes in a cheery voice.
“Me!” Molly pipes up in my arms.
The redhead looks at her, tilting her head to one side and pressing her lips together.
“Hmm. Are you sure? You look far too friendly to be a lion to me.”
“Roar!” Molly cries again, louder than the first time.
The redhead’s eyes pop wide. “Wow! Please accept my humble apologies. That’s one impressive roar you’ve got there, Miss Lion. Very mighty indeed.”
Molly giggles in my arms as the woman slides the small cup across the counter to me with a smile. “Here you go.”
“Daddy!” Molly exclaims, pointing at the foam on her drink before I can put a lid on it. “A Bunny.”
The redhead grins at her. “Do you like her? She looks like my old pet, Bumper.”
“Shouldn’t that have been Thumper?” I ask without thinking, studying the brown ears.
“No. She only had one eye and was always hopping into things.”
I take in the redhead properly for the first time. Her light blue eyes are bright as she smiles at me, making her nose wrinkle a little and shifting the freckles around that are on her cheeks.
“She lived until she was thirteen,” she adds, like the information is of great significance.
“… Right,” I say.
My phone rings again. I pull it out and see the same name as earlier.
“What is it?” I snap, putting it to my ear.
“Sorry, it couldn’t wait. I know you’d want to hear this straight away.”
“Hear what?” I bark.
“One of the team got their hands on Fabienne’s new designs.”
My grip tightens on the phone. Fabienne is a jewelry brand with elevated opinions of themselves. No competition to Beaufort Diamonds, although they wish that weren’t the case. The quality of their pieces is not a scratch on ours. But whenever we release a new line, they predictably push the boundaries on what they can get away with, by ripping off our designs with some gawdy low quality alternative. It takes the shine off our new launches, which are of outstanding quality. It’s like getting a cab and the driver proudly showing off a Canal Street Patek Philippe timepiece on his wrist, telling you it’s identical to yours, which set you back a quarter mill, but his only cost him ninety bucks.
Absolutely no comparison.
“Send them to me. And get Legal on it,” I hiss, grinding my teeth as my phone chimes in my ear, indicating a new email.
“Already done. These are the boldest ones yet.”
“Great,” I mutter, biting back the alternative word I’d use if Molly weren’t in my arms.
I end the call and walk to a small unoccupied table near the counter, depositing Molly into a chair.
“Let’s have your drink here, Sweetheart. Daddy needs to look at something for work.”
The tension in my neck’s only going to get worse if I wait until we’re back in my office to look at whatever fresh shit they’re trying to pull.
Molly nods at me, swinging her legs in the chair.
I move back to the counter, grab our drinks, and return to her. She beams at the cocoa bunny as I take a seat and pull up the email.
Motherfuckers.
