“I assumed this was a family business,” he admitted.
“It is. Or it was,” I amended. “My grandparents ran it together before they both passed a few years ago. The business isn’t doing well,” I confessed, surprising myself. I hadn’t shared that with anyone. Then again, I didn’t typically have anyone to share with. “My nonna would be so disappointed. I’ve been trying different things to get the word out, and—” I cut myself off. “You don’t need to hear about my problems.”
“I want to.” His gaze locked on mine so intently I had to fight the urge to squirm. He was observant and unapologetically intense, that much was obvious. “Now, the bakery?” he prompted. “I assume nonna is grandma in Italian?”
I nodded. “My grandfather passed first, and for a little while I helped her keep it going. It was so important to her that I keep their dream alive.”
“That’s a hell of a lot of pressure,” he noted.
I looked around the space wistfully, lost in my thoughts. “Eventually she couldn’t keep up. I know that just about killed her.” I swallowed hard. “But she was never the same after my grandfather died and soon followed him. I’ve been trying to run things ever since but I don’t think I’m doing a very good job,” I shared, admitting my biggest fear.
His head cocked to the side. “Why would you say that?”
“Aside from the crowd today, business is down a lot. People want to go to the big chains or stay directly on the strip.” I shrugged, pulling at the edge of my bread.
“Don’t know how much you can do about the city changin’, baby.” He shook his head. “What I do know is that the coffee’s damn good, and I’m not much of a sweets guy, but from everything I heard today, there are no better pastries around. You’re great with the customers and the place is spotless. I’d say you’re doing a damn good job and making your nonna proud.”
I don’t know if it was my exhaustion or the pure sincerity in his words, but I suddenly found myself blinking back tears. “Thank you,” I said meaningfully.
“You’re welcome,” he replied before groaning around a mouthful of panini, the sound of pleasure going straight to my core. “Goddamn, that’s good.”
I grinned, pleased he liked it. I dug into my own sandwich as we stood around the counter eating in comfortable silence. “What brought you to Vegas?” I asked when he’d polished off his sandwich.
I saw a flash of indecision in his eyes. “Just some quick club business. Thought I’d be in and out.”
“Sorry you got held up.” I grimaced.
He looked at me intently. “Never been so fucking glad to have my bike break down, and that’s the goddamn truth.”
“Oh,” I replied lamely.
He grinned, flashing his dimple. “Yeah, oh. I’d like to see you again, sweets.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Because I have no doubt you taste as sweet as your pastries.” His low voice was full of delicious intent.
“You’re very forward,” I accused, despite his words sending a thrill down my spine.
He nodded, accepting my assessment with a confidence I assumed was core to the man he was. “When I see something I want,” he agreed.
I sucked in a surprised breath. I’d never had a man pursue me with such persistence before. Especially a man with as much ferocious beauty as Maddox Black exuded in spades.
The majority of my life, I’d aimed to blend in to my surroundings, never wanting to attract the attention of my uncle, or worse yet, Bruno. Now it was as though I was thrust into a spotlight under Maddox’s gaze. With my long dark hair, curves that came from sampling too many of the sweets, and ever-present glasses, I’d always thought of myself as middle of the road when it came to looks. With the way his eyes locked on me, it was clear he liked what he saw. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that.
Not that it mattered anyway.
“My uncle and the Knights don’t get along, do they?” I asked the question I already knew the answer to, knowing it was time to face reality.
At his nod I sighed. “I don’t think my uncle would be very… accommodating of us spending time together,” I shared in defeat.
His gaze narrowed, jaw clenched. “Has he hurt you?”
He had no idea how complex that question truly was. “Not physically,” I answered finally.
“You don’t like him,” he surmised.
“I hate the man,” I replied vehemently.
