Chapter 4 - The Bakery on King StreetI didn't tell Nora what Daniel had discovered.
Not yet.
That decision bothered me for exactly seven minutes.
Then I remembered the photograph of Miles standing inside a Port Meridian warehouse and decided her temporary anger would be easier to handle than her permanent funeral.
After lunch, Nora escaped Magnolia House through the garden.
I followed.
She walked fast.
I said nothing until we reached the sidewalk.
Then she spun around.
“You.”
“Me.”
“You were supposed to be quiet.”
“I was quiet several times.”
“You challenged my mother at her birthday lunch.”
“Your grandmother's birthday lunch.”
“That distinction isn't helping.”
“You're welcome.”
She stared at me.
Then something unexpected happened.
She laughed.
Not politely.
Not nervously.
Really laughed.
She pressed one hand to her forehead.
“This is insane.”
“Correct.”
“I hired a stranger in a hotel café.”
“Also correct.”
“My grandmother loves you.”
“She's intelligent.”
“My mother might never speak to me again.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“And Miles looked like he wanted to throw you off the terrace.”
“He should improve his poker face.”
Her laughter faded when she heard his name.
I noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Nora.”
She looked away.
“You know that thing you said during lunch?”
“I said many brilliant things.”
“The thing about Miles explaining me instead of talking to me.”
I waited.
“No one has ever said that before.”
She folded her arms.
“But that's exactly what he does.”
I said nothing.
“My mother does it too,” she continued. “They tell me what I am until defending myself feels childish.”
“Then stop defending yourself.”
Her eyes returned to mine.
“What?”
“Don't convince people who benefit from misunderstanding you.”
“That sounds easy when you say it.”
“It isn't.”
“Do you do it?”
“No.”
“What do you do?”
“I remove the problem.”
She stared at me.
I smiled.
“Metaphorically.”
“That smile made it worse.”
My Mercedes waited at the curb.
Nora looked toward it.
“I don't need a ride.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Lie.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“What?”
“You looked left before answering.”
“So?”
“Your apartment is north.”
She stared at me.
“How do you know where I live?”
I realized my mistake.
Daniel had already pulled the basic background file while we were eating.
“Nora—”
Her eyes widened.
“You investigated me?”
“Briefly.”
“What does briefly mean?”
“Four pages.”
“Evan.”
“Five if you count employment history.”
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Then pointed a finger at my chest.
“You are clinically insane.”
“Probably.”
“You cannot investigate people you're fake dating.”
“There's no established etiquette.”
She walked away.
I followed.
“Where are you actually going?”
She kept walking.
“None of your business.”
“That usually makes things my business.”
She spun.
“Why?”
I stopped.
That was harder to answer.
Because Miles Harper had apparently connected her family company to dangerous people.
Because I had seen the way he watched her.
Because something about Nora Bennett made every protective instinct I had spent years converting into violence suddenly feel personal.
None of those answers were appropriate.
So I used another.
“You still owe me the rest of today.”
Her expression shifted.
The deal.
She sighed.
“Fine.”
She pointed down King Street.
“I'm going to show Grandma the bakery location.”
“You have a location?”
“Potential location.”
We walked six blocks.
The storefront sat between an independent bookstore and an old florist.
It was narrow.
Dusty.
Empty.
The faded green paint around the windows was peeling.
A FOR LEASE sign hung crookedly against the glass.
Nora unlocked the front door.
“You have a key?”
“The landlord let me keep one until Monday.”
Inside smelled like old wood and plaster.
Sunlight poured through the front windows.
There was a cracked tile floor, exposed brick along one wall and a kitchen space in the back that currently contained nothing except pipes and an ancient stainless-steel sink.
Nora stepped inside.
Everything about her changed.
She stopped looking nervous.
“This wall comes down.”
She pointed.
“Counter goes there.”
Another direction.
“Four small tables, maybe five. Display case near the register. Open pastry kitchen in back so people can see us working.”
I leaned against the wall.
She kept going.
“Coffee machine here. Shelves there. I want morning light through the front windows, so no heavy curtains.”
She moved deeper into the room.
“Grandma says I need one table that never gets reserved. Just whoever walks in first gets it.”
“Why?”
“She hates places where everything good is reserved for important people.”
I smiled.
Definitely liked Rose.
Nora stood in the center of the empty storefront.
“And this…”
Her voice softened.
“This is where Rose & Rye could exist.”
Not might.
Could.
The distinction mattered.
“How much?”
She turned.
“What?”
“The lease.”
Her expression closed immediately.
“No.”
“I asked a question.”
“And I recognize that tone.”
“What tone?”
“The billionaire-who-thinks-he-can-fix-things-with-money tone.”
I almost laughed.
“You don't know many billionaires.”
“One is currently standing in my bakery.”
“Potential bakery.”
“Exactly.”
She folded her arms.
“I don't want your money.”
“I didn't offer it.”
“You were about to.”
“No.”
That was almost true.
“I was about to ask whether the lease makes financial sense.”
Her suspicion remained.
“It does.”
“Then why haven't you signed?”
Her jaw tightened.
“I need loan approval.”
“When?”
“Next week.”
“And if they say no?”
“I find another lender.”
“Good.”
She looked surprised.
“You're not going to offer?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you told me not to.”
Something softened in her expression.
The silence became strange.
The storefront suddenly felt smaller.
Nora looked away first.
“Thank you.”
“For not buying your building?”
“Yes.”
“Low standards.”
She smiled.
The front door opened.
We both turned.
Miles walked inside.
Every instinct in my body became cold.
“Nora.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Miles?”
He looked around.
“You shouldn't be here alone.”
“She isn't.”
His gaze moved toward me.
“I noticed.”
Nora frowned.
“How did you know where I was?”
Miles hesitated.
“Your mother mentioned it.”
I watched Nora.
She believed him.
I didn't.
Diane had spent lunch furious about the bakery.
Why would she tell Miles where Nora was going immediately afterward?
Miles approached.
“I wanted to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For lunch.”
He gave her the smile.
Warm.
Reasonable.
“You know I support you.”
“No, you don't.”
The answer surprised him.
It surprised Nora too.
She straightened.
“You think I'm impulsive.”
“I worry.”
“Those aren't the same thing.”
Miles glanced at me.
Now I understood.
He hated my presence not because I was competition.
Because Nora behaved differently when someone stood beside her and refused to let him define the conversation.
“I've known you fifteen years,” Miles said.
Nora's face tightened.
“You've known my family fifteen years.”
“I know you better than some stranger.”
He looked at me.
“Who showed up this morning.”
Silence.
Nora froze.
I did not move.
Miles realized he had made a mistake.
“What did you say?” Nora whispered.
He tried to recover.
“I meant—”
“You said he showed up this morning.”
Her face lost color.
“How do you know that?”
“I assumed.”
“No.”
Nora stepped back.
“You said it like you knew.”
Miles laughed.
Too casually.
“Come on, Nora.”
“How?”
He looked at me.
That was another mistake.
I moved between them.
“Answer her.”
Miles' jaw tightened.
“You don't order me around.”
“I just did.”
“Evan,” Nora whispered.
Miles looked toward the door.
Then back at us.
“I saw you leave Magnolia House together and guessed. That's all.”
“That isn't what you said.”
Nora's voice shook.
He moved toward her.
“I don't want you getting manipulated.”
I blocked him.
“Don't.”
His eyes went flat.
For half a second, the polished Charleston businessman disappeared.
Something else appeared underneath.
Then it vanished.
“I'll call you later,” he told Nora.
“Don't.”
He paused.
Nora swallowed.
“I need space.”
Miles smiled without warmth.
“Of course.”
He walked out.
I watched until he crossed the street.
Then took out my phone.
“What are you doing?” Nora asked.
“Changing your locks.”
Her eyes widened.
“No.”
“He knew where you were.”
“He could have guessed.”
“He didn't.”
“You don't know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
I looked at her.
There was no clean way around it anymore.
“Because Miles Harper is involved with people you don't want knowing your name.”
She went completely still.
“What does that mean?”
“It means today's arrangement ends now.”
Her expression changed.
“Excuse me?”
“You don't owe me the rest of the day.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
“I know.”
I walked toward the window.
Across the street, Miles entered a gray sedan.
The passenger was a man I recognized.
Victor Salerno.
Port Meridian.
Very bad.
Nora moved beside me.
“Who is he?”
“You're going home.”
“Stop ordering me around.”
My jaw tightened.
“Nora.”
“No.”
She stepped directly in front of me.
“You don't get to walk into my life for four hours, investigate me, insult my family, terrify Miles and then decide what information I'm allowed to have.”
Fair.
Inconvenient.
But fair.
I looked through the window again.
The sedan pulled away.
I made a decision.
“Your family's company has been used to move money.”
Her face went blank.
“What?”
“I don't know whether anyone in your family knows.”
“Move money how?”
“Illegally.”
She whispered, “Miles?”
“Possibly.”
Nora sat down hard on the dusty windowsill.
“No.”
“I have proof he has met with the men involved.”
“My mother trusts him.”
“That may be why they chose him.”
She looked up.
“What does any of this have to do with Bennett Events?”
“I intend to find out.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
There it was again.
The question I couldn't answer.
Why did I care?
I barely knew her.
Except that wasn't completely true anymore.
I knew she wanted open windows in her bakery.
I knew she made lists when frightened.
I knew she returned money people gave her because independence mattered more than comfort.
I knew she laughed when she forgot to be nervous.
And I knew Miles Harper had followed her to an empty storefront.
That was enough.
“Because you paid me.”
She stared.
“One hundred dollars.”
“I provide excellent customer service.”
She laughed despite herself.
Then her eyes filled with tears.
Not crying.
Just overwhelmed.
I crouched in front of her.
“Listen to me.”
She did.
“No one gets near you while I figure this out.”
“You can't promise that.”
“Yes, I can.”
Her breath caught.
The air shifted between us.
“You're not really a hotel developer, are you?” she whispered.
“I am.”
“That's not what I asked.”
For the first time, I considered telling her everything.
Then my phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered.
“What?”
His voice came fast.
“Boss, get Nora out of there.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“We found a tracking device on her car.”
I looked at Nora.
She saw my expression change.
“What?”
Daniel continued.
“And Evan?”
“Yes?”
“It isn't GPS from a jealous boyfriend.”
May you like
A pause.
“Military-grade transmitter. Someone has been tracking her for weeks.”
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