“And now, to announce the award for Best Pastry Chef, I give you… the heiress to the Starr Hotels, Mal Starr,” a voice across the speakers announces.
“This is my category,” I admit.
Sora cringes. “Mal’s giving outyouraward? That’s what she’s presenting?”
“I didn’t know she was.” But I get how ridiculous I sound. Even to myself. And how did I not see this coming? Of course she’d pull strings to present my award category.
“How could you not know?” Pain and accusation flash in her eyes.
Mal’s already on stage. I’ve got one eye on her, and one on Sora, and I’ve never felt so divided. Sora stalks to the gilded elevator doors and jabs the button.
“Sora, please. Just wait. Five minutes.”
“I can’t, Jack. I just…” Sora’s eyes are filling with tears.
“Fine. Then let’s go somewhere. Let’s talk. I’ll come with you.” I’d do anything to make her stop crying. Anything.
“As the sole heir to the Starr family fortune,” Mal begins, “I’ve been very fortunate to eat at some of the finest restaurants in the world. My family owns some of them, and it was my late father’s favorite pastime to talk to the pastry chefs in our kitchens. He used to say if a hotel couldn’t serve good desserts to its guests, then it might as well just be a roadside motel.”
A murmur of chuckles ripples politely through the audience.
“Please, Sora.”
“Jack, I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” Sora jabs the elevator button again.
“I’m so very honored to present tonight’s award for Best Pastry Chef,” Mal continues. She’s calling out the nominees. “And the Golden Chef goes to…” She cracks open the white envelope. “Jack Mann.”
Sora looks at me, eyes sad. “Go on,” she tells me. The elevators ding, announcing the arrival of an elevator.
“No, Sora, wait. Just…” The spotlight is on me. Everyone is applauding. But I’m not moving. The elevator doors slide open.
“While we wait for the winner to make it to the podium,” Mal says, “I just want to take this opportunity to announce Jack’s new endeavor. With his prize money,weare going to open a bakerytogether. Coming next month!”
The applause kicks up a notch. But Sora’s eyes have turned coal black.
“She’s backing your bakery?” Her voice is weak and defeated. The elevator doors begin to close, but I stop them with a hand.
“No.” I shake my head. “Absolutely not. She’s been threatening to get involved, but I told her no.”
But Mal is still talking.
“We’re so very excited to be announcing the opening of Jack Mann’s—the new Golden Chef winner—casual new bakery, complete with the full backing of Starr Incorporated. Starr now owns the property and will be working hand-in-hand to launch Jack’s new bakery.”
I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck. The license plate reads “Mal Starr.” Everything in my field of vision goes wonky, and I barely hear the applause of the audience.
This cannot be happening.
“Go on and accept your award, Jack.” Sora pushes my hand from the elevator, just as Mal appears by my side.
“He’s a little shy!” she jokes as she loops her arm through mine and tugs me hard. I’m just… shell-shocked. The elevator doors slide shut on Sora, her eyes shining with tears. I recover too late. I jab uselessly at the elevator button, but the car is already gone.
“Come on, Jack-a-boo. Your public awaits,” Mal whispers, holding the microphone against her hip. “I told you I’d buy your bakery if you didn’t bring me as your plus-one.” Her voice is barely an audible hiss.
I take the microphone from her. My ears ring. I suddenly feel nauseous.
“Thank you so much for the award. I’m so grateful.” Another elevator slides open. “But I have to go.”
The elevator doors open and I step in. In thirty-eight seconds, I’m back on the ground floor. I run out, looking for Sora. Where is she? Not in the lobby. Not near the modern reflecting pool. Nowhere. I run through the revolving glass doors and find myself in the frigid February night, frantically searching one way and then another. I see Sora, sans coat, walking away to the corner.
