Page 12 of Falling for the Billionaire Best Man

By mid-morning, the bakery had calmed down enough for me to take a quick breather. I leaned against the counter, sipping a much-needed coffee, when my phone buzzed. Eliza’s name flashed on the screen.

Eliza: Just a heads-up—Kaisen’s running late. Something about a meeting running over.

I rolled my eyes but typed back a reply. No problem. The cakes are ready whenever he decides to grace us with his presence.

She replied with a laughing emoji.

By the time the bakery sold out and Toby took off, I was knee deep in wedding-cake orders for the month. I was jotting down the list of supplies I would need for everything.

Eliza’s wedding was the crown jewel, of course—a massive seven-tier cake and a matching groom’s cake that would be the talk of the town. I was just sorting through the details when a sharp knock echoed from the front of the shop.

I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat. Kaisen was here.

I took a deep breath, smoothing my apron and running a hand over my hair before walking out to the front. He was standing there, looking as ornery as the first time we’d met. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, his designer shirt perfectly pressed, and his expression was one of pure annoyance. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and honestly, I felt the same way.

I wasn’t the one that was late. I had a feeling no one called him out when he was behaving badly. Spoiled jerk.

“Right on time,” I said with plenty of sarcasm. “Let’s get this over with.”

He didn’t respond, just followed me into the kitchen where the cake samples were waiting. I’d prepared a variety of flavors—vanilla bean, chocolate ganache, lemon raspberry, red velvet, and a few others—each one carefully crafted to perfection. I gestured to the table.

He said nothing. Absolutely nothing. I could not believe how obnoxious the man was.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s cake. What exactly do I need to be ready for?”

“Surgery maybe,” I muttered under my breath.

“Excuse me? Did you say sugary or surgery?”

He was giving me an out, but I wasn’t interested.

“Surgery. To remove that stick from your ass.”

He didn’t change his expression. “Let’s just do this.”

I delivered a couple of plates to the table. The tasting was exactly how I expected it to go. It was painful. Excruciating. Kaisen took the smallest bites possible, his face scrunching up like he was hating every second of it. I couldn’t help but tease him.

“Do you even eat carbs?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as he pushed aside the vanilla bean sample.

He shot me a glare. “Do you ever get tired of eating sugar?”

I smirked, licking a bit of icing off my finger. “Nope.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted it. Kaisen’s eyes locked onto the motion, his gaze following the movement of my finger with an intensity that made my cheeks burn. I felt a flicker of something—embarrassment, maybe, or something else entirely—and immediately reverted back to my usual self, pretending like nothing weird had just happened.

I wasn’t trying to be seductive. It was just habit. Not that I licked my fingers when I was baking for customers.

But the way he was looking at me… it was shocking. Intoxicating. And it made me feel like the Dorie I kept hidden—the not-so-sweet, opinionated, confident one—was clawing to the surface, desperate to break free.

She was the naughty one. She was the one that liked to flirt and play and seduce.

But that Dorie never, never came out to play.

Kaisen poked at the lemon raspberry sample with his fork, his expression unreadable. He took a minuscule bite, chewing slowly before setting the fork down.

“Too tart,” he said flatly, his tone dismissive. “The lemon overpowers the raspberry. It’s unbalanced.”