Chapter Eight
Julien
It took me a few minutes to calm Marilyn down after the damn press and her dean walked into my kitchen. Heads are going to roll. The story won’t air because I’ve already planned to sue for trespassing on private property. Breaking and entering is more like it. According to them, they were told there was a story there and that Marilyn had set me up to be trapped for sexual harassment.
Sara had received a text message to return to the office and unlock the shop and give a tour to the dean, by Oliver no less. She apologized to us, but it’s not her I’m pissed at. She’s not the one who did this.
I spend the evening at the bakery with a detective while George takes Marilyn to the condo for me where I know she’ll be safe.
It’s nearly one in the morning, and I’m beat. We have to be back at the bakery to get the day started in a few hours, so when I get in Marilyn, lets me hold her without a word. I cradle her in my arms and whisper my love even though I know it’s too soon for her. “Je t'aime.”
****
“I can’t believe we’ve only got a week until the wedding,” Myla says as she slips on her coat. It’s been one long day, but I’m ready to get my woman home and naked.
“I know. It’s insane,” Marilyn adds. “We have been working so hard to make all of these pieces, and they’re going to be fabulous.”
“The cake is the grand masterpiece, ma marguerite,” I say, loving the work she’s been doing on the bottom layer. We’re setting the layers one by one. Once we land and they set, we’ll stack them, but not a moment before.
“What does that mean?” Myla asks.
“Ma marguerite?” Mya nods. “It means my daisy.”
“Why do you call her that?”
“Well, the first picture I saw of Marilyn, she was standing next to her daisy cake.” Marilyn blushes, knowing that it was her daisy panties that inspired that little pet name for me.
“It’s so cute.”
“Your hubby doesn’t even call you Myla. He just calls you My-love. I think that’s perfect.”
“It is. He’s a good man,” I say, having met the man who practically snarls when anyone looks at her. She doesn’t know it, but he watches her like a hawk. I don’t blame the guy. If Marilyn was out of my sight, I’d feel the same way, but we get to be together all day, every day now.
“He is. I think I’ll keep him.”
“That’s good because I wasn’t going to let you leave anyway, baby girl.” A growl comes from the front door.
“These men have no damn respect for the laws.”
“None.”
“As long as you understand that, we’re good,” I loudly whisper to Marilyn. “Now it’s time to go home because I have to put something in the oven.”
“The man has the right idea. I’ll be the baker tonight, woman.” He grabs Myla and carries her out of the bakery.
Sara sighs behind us.
“Are you done? We can give you a ride home,” Marilyn offers. Sara is just eighteen and goes to online community college. She takes the bus to work all the time. I’ve offered to get her a company car at the very least when I realized it. I know what it’s like to be in her shoes and it fucking sucks, but she’s extremely embarrassed to take handouts.
“I’ve got her.” George pops through the front door.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I can take the bus.” There’s a tension between them that concerns me. My brother wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, but she is my employee. I move to step in, but Marilyn grabs my hand. “Let’s just leave that alone.” I look down at my woman, raising my brow.
“Leave it,” she insists, dragging me from the bakery.
“What’s going on?”
Marilyn and Sara talk while loading the display cases and when they get some free moments. “Let’s just say your brother’s an ass, and I’m not sure we want to see the fireworks go off.”