Page 17 of My Favorite Kidnapper

“Good,” Brianna stated, slipping from my embrace. She brushed under her eyes, her voice raspy from her tears. “I have two cakes to finish.”

He nodded, stealing glances at me as he rolled a cart of trays out front.

“Make sure to load the cups into the dishwasher,” she ordered.

“Yep.”

I leaned against the counter, lazily wiping at my lips, still tasting her.

“I’m surprised you let them get away with idling around,” I observed.

“When the owner is your mother, it’s amazing what you can get away with,” she replied. “I’m lucky to get any work out of them. Requests fall on deaf ears. Orders are laughed at. Complaining does nothing. Management only cares the money stays in the family.” She met my look. “I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

I nodded in understanding. I had met the woman, so the news she had her children working here and they chose not to do much wasn’t a surprise. They acted as entitled as she did.

Brianna was quiet for a moment, then turned to look at me. The end of her nose was pink, her eyes still watery, but she had recovered her spunk.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“How did you find me?”

“Carolina.”

“Carolina? How do you know Carolina?”

“I’m her godfather.”

“You’re Dante,” she breathed out.

I bowed with a flourish, and I saw her lips quirk at my over-the-top gesture. “At your service, madam.”

“When did she give you my information?” she demanded. “She never mentioned you asking.”

“The other day.”

“But…” she sputtered. “She’s on her honeymoon.”

“I called her.”

She gaped at me. “You what? You called her on her honeymoon to find me? Are you insane?”

“She had left before I could inquire about you. Her father didn’t know. And I dislike the word insane. I prefer determined.”

“I’d prefer you leave.”

“That’s not what your lips were saying moments ago.”

She tossed her hair, defiant. “I was overwhelmed. You can go now.”

“Not happening until we talk.”

She crossed her arms. “Talk, then.”

“Not here, with Kenneth walking in at any moment and no doubt reporting whatever he overhears to his mother. Somewhere private. I’ll pick you up at seven when you get off work.”

“How do you know I get off at seven?” she asked.