Page 248 of A Taste of Vanilla

His eyes narrow. “Warren.”

“I was trying to gather information first.”

“Oh, Christ.”

“I want to be able to offer a solution before stressing her out.”

I stand up. “Her suppliers may be under pressure and I’m not even sure what’s going on with the lease at the moment. Grant’s family has development connections. If they can’t damage her business directly, they’re going to do whatever else they can.”

Oliver’s gaze flickers toward the closed door. “Tell her.”

“I will.”

“When?”

“When I know what to tell her.”

“You know enough to tell her now, Warren. She needs the truth.” His face is flat. “You’re not her crisis manager.”

I take a breath. “I know.”

Halston finds out that afternoon.

She’s behind the counter, boxing pastries for Mrs. Alvarez, who’s telling her that men who use the word volatile are usually the cause of illness in the city.

“Put that on a mug,” Halston says.

Her phone rings and she glances down at the screen.

I know who it is before she answers.

“Hi,” she says, pressing the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she folds the box.

She listens.

The box stops moving.

Her gaze finds mine, and my stomach drops.

“What do you mean, Warren already asked?”

Everything goes quiet.

“No,” she says. “I understand. Thank you for calling me directly.”

A pause.

“Yes. In the future, please call me first about my account.”

Her eyes stay glued to mine.

“No, Warren does not have authorization to make changes to Bitter Bloom’s account.”

She hangs up.

For half a second, no one moves. Then Marley, at the corner table, slowly closes her laptop.

Halston looks at me. “What did you do?”