My Cookie (A Dirty Boss Romance Book 2) Page 5

  “None of you have a reason to be back here. Get the fuck out.” Julien pulls me behind him. “Mon amour, go into my office.”

  “Sara, are you well?” I hear George say as I move toward Julien’s office. Where did Julien’s brother come from? Why is Sara still here? I open the door and hide inside, feeling the embarrassment set in immediately.

  A minute later, the door flies open and Julien comes rushing in. I can’t hide the tears in my eyes. “Maybe it’s best that I go.”

  “The fuck it is. Nothing changes, Marilyn. Nothing. I made that damn clear from the start.”

  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.”

  “Oh shit. Okay.” I smirk as we slide into the back of the SUV. I had a feeling he liked her, but she was too young about six months ago.

  “I’m ready for a bath and to hit the hay.”

  “I’m starting to believe that’s how you stay so slender. When is the last time you’ve had a real meal, Marilyn?”

  “I believe you are the reason I haven’t had much of an appetite for anything but dick and sleep.”

  “Okay, I suppose you have a point. So no dick until you’ve had a good night’s rest and a hearty meal.”

  “Sounds good.” We pull up to my condo, and there’s at least two reporters out there because I happen to live near a fucking celebrity who gets enough attention for the both of us, although he hates it more than I do.

  “Chef Beaumont, isn’t this your lovely new pastry assistant?” I wonder if someone sent them here even though I threatened to sue the dean and the other reporters. I suppose it could have spread another way. Oliver had been arrested and released, but I have other people who hate me in the industry.

  “She’s soon to be my wife, but I’ll have you know she’s the best baker in this duo for sure. Everyone at the baking competition wanted to hire her, and I snagged her first. I assure you, hands down she beats me.”

  “So was it love at first sight?”

  “For me, it certainly was. We met the day before the bake-off. I was supposed to be reviewing the candidates’ credentials when I ran into Miss Shaw. One look, and I fell madly in love and had no idea that she was a baker. All I knew was I couldn’t let her get away, and I hadn’t bothered to open a single file.”

  “Is that true, Miss Shaw?”

  “Yes, I tried to cut and run, but he caught me and now I’m hooked.” She smiles with all her heart, and I can’t fight the true happiness in my own heart. Let those assholes say anything. Our feelings are there for everyone to see. All the bullshit they can make up is just lies, and the truth is crystal clear.

  The two reporters laugh.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse us. It’s been a very long day and we’re preparing for a wedding…we’re catering for, and we must be getting some rest.” I lead her past them and into the building off to the bank of elevators.

  “Thanks for grabbing their attention,” the handsome bastard says next to me.

  I growl a little louder than I planned. I didn’t know I could do that involuntarily, but apparently you can when someone with enough testosterone comes near your female. It must be some Animal Planet type shit. “No problem,” I grumble.

  “What’s wrong? I thought I did a good job out there,” Marilyn asks.

  “You did, doll. He’s snarling at me.” He has the nerve to wink at my woman.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a hot new actor, and you’re beautiful. He doesn’t want to lose you to me.” Does he not know how to turn off the charm? I’m about to deck his ass and give the reporters a new damn story on how I broke my hand on his chiseled pretty face.

  “Well, it ain’t gonna happen anyway.”

  He throws his hands up. “No offense to either of you, but I wasn’t interested anyway. I was just explaining his caveman behavior. If I ever get a girl I want like that, I wonder if I will stop using more than one syllable at a time? Who knows. Well, this is me. Have fun.” He waves us off. Marilyn turns to me and giggles.

  “You think it’s funny.”

  “Only a little bit because he’s right. I’ve never heard something so caveman-like before, and I have to say I find it super freaking sexy.

  “Then let me make sure we’re not using syllables all fucking night, baby.”

  I carry her out of the elevator and into my condo without letting her feet hit the ground because I need her in bed, taking my dick nice and deep to remind her that I’m her man and no sexy fucker can come between us.

  I’ve officially lost it, and somehow I don’t give a rat’s ass about it. I tear off her clothes and mine as well. “I need to shower,” she says, but I’m not listening because I want that pussy on my mouth. I know that it’s all hot and warm, like a sweet apple pie. I bend her over the bed, spreading her legs and lifting her onto her knees.

  I dip my tongue along her seam from behind. A growl comes from my throat as I lick the sweet, salty tang off her cunt. I want more. I drive my tongue as deep as it will go, hoping to pull out as much as I can. She squirms on the bed, getting closer and closer to coming, but she’s pulling her sopping wet slit away from my face and I just can’t have that. With a grunt, I grab her and flip her onto her back and slide her to the middle of the bed. Parting her legs, I wrap her knees around my elbows and I dive back into her pussy. I feast on her until she’s creaming all over my face.

  Lifting up onto the mattress, I press my knees onto the bed and then push the head of my cock into her tight little hole. We fuck hard and fast until I have her screaming my name and only my name and then I let go, coming in long streams of cum, letting all of my possessive urges out.

  We fall into a heap and let a much-needed sleep come.

  Morning comes, and I make sure her breakfast is an all-star one with sausage, bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and pancakes so she’s full. Then, I promise to give her a healthy dicking for lunch, which I do in my office so she’s stuffed.

  It’s near the end of the day when my phone rings, and I take the call in my office while Marilyn bakes in the kitchen.

  “Hello, Jack.”

  “I saw you two on TV.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She won’t talk to me.”

  “Honestly, she hasn’t really spoken to anyone. We’ve been busy, but she misses you. If you love her, I will say this.” I go on to explain my plan to him and then end the call just as Marilyn knocks on my office door.

  “Come in,” I call out. “Love, you don’t have to knock.” I stand up and walk around to greet her with a light kiss to her lips.

  “It’s your office.”

  “Consider it yours, too.”

  “No.”

  “Anyway. We have a problem. Myla’s husband’s here, and we need you in the kitchen.”

  “Okay. I’m coming.” I wink at her, and she gives me her usual response to my perverted innuendos: an eye roll.

  “So what is the problem?”

  “The designs for the wedding have been shared online,” he says. He watches his wife like a hawk, so he must know something I don’t.

  “What? That’s not possible.”

  “It is.” She pulls a camera out of the bench table near the door. We look at each other, and she shakes her head.

  “It’s off now, but it was working for the past week. It turned on when they were here with those reporters. Those weren’t reporters. They were here to steal recipes and ideas from us,” Marilyn sobs. “The wedding is next week.”

  “Calm down, mon amour. I’ll fix it.”

  “How did you find this?”

  “My husband stalks me…apparently. He found my likeness online and was pissed when I had no idea.”

  “We’ll destroy them.”

  “Good. I want them ruined. I’ll make this better. I have to call Elsa, okay? It might not be a big deal because the bride is a diva. She might want to be the talk of the town.”

  “Sounds like a good thing, yes, unless it’s in a negative light.”

  “We’ll work it out. I promise.” I kiss her lips and then head into my office to deal with the wedding planner and her entitled bride who makes every bridezilla look like a sweet sugarplum fairy.

  Chapter Nine

  Marilyn

  The flight to Paris is calm and quiet as we go over the plans for the wedding, which have been a freaking mess. We haven’t spoken about the supposed impromptu proposal or wedding that was thrown about like it was no big deal the other night in front of the reporters, but it hasn’t left my mind for one single minute. Maybe it’s because I’m a woman or because I’m madly in love with the man, but it flooded my brain.

  Our relationship is new and these feelings are completely irrational, yet I can’t chase them away.

  Still, I have a job to do, and that’s to get this wedding tasting the best and to deliver a cake the bride will be pleased with. Especially after my old dean managed to try and steal my ideas. We had to create new designs for the cake and desserts, working overtime while Myla’s husband went hardcore to work refitting the kitchen with enhanced security. We worked to the bone in the condo, the bakery, and in my apartment. Hell, we didn’t even have time to fuck like bunnies over the past week. Which is probably why I’m more unsure of us. It was my dean who violated Julien’s personal space, only to have the same thing happen to him again. Maybe he’s thought twice about us.

  “What’s wrong, Marilyn? You’ve been quiet since we arrived. I thought you would be excited to be here.”

  “I am.” Damn it, that didn’t sound convincing at all.

  “I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”

  “Chef Beaumont,” a woman calls out, and she’s a perfect beauty, instantly making me jealous. Another reason that maybe we should keep this thing as a fling. Only there’s just one problem, or maybe more than one. I don’t know if I could live without him now.

  I drop my head and walk on, pretending that I don’t see them talking, but then Julien reaches out and grabs me. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he growls in my ear. He turns to the woman and says, “Sorry, my fiancée is having a bit of jet lag.”

  “No problem. That’s what happened to me when I got roped into this event. It’s almost over, though. I’m the event planner, by the way.” She sticks her hand out for me to shake. I do, and she didn’t seem to be overtly flirtatious with Julien. In fact, Elsa’s nothing but professional, and he doesn’t act like she’s any different than anyone else.

  I meet her and realize that she’s not a threat, but there will be plenty of other women that will fall at Julien’s feet. He excuses us and leads us up to the hotel room where he takes my hand and pulls me into his arms. Gripping both sides of my face, he pleads, “Please tell me what’s wrong with you.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with us,” I state.

  “What do you mean, what’s going on with us?” He backs away, looking at me like he’s confused.

  “Never mind. I’m just being foolish. I’m in the city of love, and I guess that newspaper article and online post about our relationship has me on edge. I guess your comments were just to shut them up, weren’t they?” We haven’t known each other long enough to be talking about marriage and babies and yet here we are, and I feel overwhelmed by the need to make it a reality. Have I lost it and become an insane woman, attaching herself to the first man she sleeps with?

  He paces, thrusting his hands in his hair. Finally stopping in front of me, he says, “Woman, we have a job to do.” He brushes right past me and out of the hotel room. I follow right behind him and remember that we came here to bake for a wedding, not anything else.

  “Of course, you’re right, Mr. Beaumont. Let’s get to work,” I reply, stepping into the elevator without looking at him. I’m not mad at him, just at myself.

  “Cher, please.”

  “No. Whatever is between us can wait. We have to show off our talents in the kitchen.” He takes my hand and brings it to his lips, but I pull it away quickly after he kisses the back of my hand. “We should remain professional.”

  He gazes into my eyes, and I see that he’s wounded by my overreaction but I can’t take it back. “Very well.” We step off the elevator and walk side by side without touching.

  For the rest of the day, I keep my distance from him. I can’t, because my heart is breaking into pieces. This past week has been a test of how things get when work is tough, and apparently he pulls away and doesn’t want me anymore. I call the girls, needing someone to talk to, but neither of them answer. Hell, I even call Petra because I’m desperate, but she doesn’t answer and I wonder if the damn time zone has something to do with it.

  By the end of the night, I fall into a fitful sleep and Julien is nowhere to be found. I wake up in the middle of the night to his arms around me. “I love you, ma marguerite. Je t’aime, Marilyn.” Sleep comes to me easily.

  Chapter Ten

  Julien

  I want to surprise her, but she’s making it very difficult. Of course it wasn’t a fucking way to shut the press up. I have the ring in my pocket this very second and I’d marry her in a heartbeat, but I’m waiting for that asshole brother of hers to arrive with the wedding gown. It’s been a hard thing to pull off via email and text with the occasional phone call when I know she’s just in the other room, or hell, even sitting next to me on the plane, but I have every intention of making her my wife.

  We’ve only known each other a short time, but she’s my soul mate. I’ve never met a woman who could capture my heart or even attention. I get that she’s pissed at me, but I can’t do anything about it without spoiling the surprise. This woman has my heart and will be my wife before we leave Paris.

  Tomorrow was the wedding for Alexa and Philippe, who met on a cruise for singles after both having failing marriages. When I arrived, my buddy called me to inform me that the wedding had been called off because Philippe had found her in bed with the best man. So I made a quick change of plans. Instead of having the wedding the day after theirs, we’d have theirs with the special creations Marilyn and I had created at the last minute. Our family and friends were already on their way, so it was perfect. My friend let me have the venue and everything in exchange for the fees he would have paid for the cake and desserts, so it worked out.