Page 20 of King of Temptation

With a nod to the flirty older woman behind the counter who checked him out, he carried his purchases from the store and went in search of a better vantage point to keep an eye on his two naughty charges.

Goldie

* * *

“Thanks for coming. I was going a bit out of my mind in my apartment.”

Waving a hand, Aria O’Rourke let out a derisive sort of snort and rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re doing me a favor. Killian’s been even more overbearing than usual and that’s saying something. It’s a miracle I was able to get out of the house at all today, and I only managed that because he thinks I’m with Brody.”

“Oh. Do you… spend a lot of time with Brody?”

She’d been trying for nonchalance, but judging by the smug curve of Aria’s lips, she failed drastically. “Yes, but only because he babysits me whenever Killian isn’t available. But we can talk about Brody after we get some of these fabulous pastries. The baby is finally tolerating more than just muffins so I’ve got my eye on that strawberry roll.”

Reaching for the door, Aria pulled it open, letting out a delighted gasp as they stepped inside. “Oh, this place is adorable! Killian brings me stuff from here all the time but I’ve never actually been inside. Which is a shame since I used to live right down the street.”

It was, indeed, surprisingly adorable given that it was well known to be run by a motorcycle gang. No, not gang, club. Boone Winters, the president of said club and owner of the bakery was very strict on that point as Goldie had learned the couple of times she’d tried to wheedle information out of him.

Sleek black wood made up the counter that stretched from one end of the room to the other, and all of the seats were done in plush leather in the same color. Hints of chrome peeked out here and there, breaking up the midnight shade so it wasn’t as overwhelming, and the walls were decorated with local art for sale, adding plenty of color. The collection prominently featured a couple small pieces from Jasper Hale, which were still more than she could justify paying for an eight-by-ten canvas, though she was sorely tempted to do so pretty much every morning. Dominic’s older brother was a fucking genius, and the need to own some of his art was a pang in her chest that never faded.

Maybe she should talk to Dom, see if he could get her a family discount or something.

“Morning, ladies.” The gorgeous man behind the counter flashed his signature million-dollar smile. Lucien Vale—or Silk as he was known to the club and the bakery customers, a nod to his rather prestigious upbringing—looked more like a man who spent his days on Hollywood movie sets than on the back of a bike. But she’d seen him ride and even though she didn’t know a single thing about motorcycles he looked damn good on one. “You’re late today, Austen.”

The nickname was one she’d been given once the club members learned she was an author. It was a point of pride for them to have their very own bestselling author as a loyal customer, and she couldn’t deny the little thrill she got from having her own ‘call sign’ even if she wasn’t a member of the club. She was, she’d realized, something of a mascot for the bakery, which was part of the reason she was so loyal to them.

That, and the donuts.

Before she could answer Silk, a woman stepped up beside him, her piercing blue eyes raking over Goldie and then Aria. “She’s not. This is her second visit of the day. And she brought a… friend.”

Goldie swore she could feel everyone’s eyes on her, and she prayed her face wasn’t as hot as it felt. “You make it sound like I’m up to no good, Warden.”

One eyebrow raising in what Goldie was starting to consider ‘The Daddy Look’, Harlow Pierce—aka, Warden—leaned forward, bracing her arms on the glass counter between them. “You’re cozied up with an O’Rourke like you’re besties. Something’s going on.”

“I’m helping her research her next book,” Aria lied breezily, seemingly unbothered by the other woman’s clear distrust of the situation. “After all, who better to help a mafia author than a mafia princess?”

Harlow’s expression didn’t change in the slightest as she slid her gaze to Aria and then back to Goldie. “That true, Austen?”

“Yup.” Oh, thank god her voice sounded much more confident than she was feeling. “Can we get a dozen cupcakes to go? Just a mix of whatever. Oh, and Aria wanted to try that Redline Roll, the one with the strawberries.”

Silk, who as far as Goldie could tell was never bothered by anything, winked and grabbed a pink bakery box from the stack. “A dozen cupcakes coming up, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Silk.”

While Silk went to work boxing up their treats, Harlow lingered, her gaze as unnervingly watchful as ever. “You sure you know what you’re getting into here, Austen?”

Irritation ran up Goldie’s spine. Why was everyone so convinced she couldn’t take care of herself? “I’m sure that I’m going to enjoy these delicious cupcakes with my friend. But I appreciate your concern, Lo.”

The nickname Harlow only entrusted to certain people had her expression softening, ever so slightly. “All right. You know where to find me if you need me.”

Harlow moved down the counter to take care of the next customer, but Goldie was keenly aware of the way her gaze continued to drift over to Goldie and Aria while Silk checked them out with his usual cheerful chatter.

“Sorry about that,” she said to Aria as they stepped outside into the crisp, non-judgmental air. “I don’t know what the hell got into Harlow.”

“It’s fine.” Aria waved a hand, brushing off her apologies. “It comes with the territory.”

“But it shouldn’t. You’re not really…” Cheeks heating yet again with embarrassment, Goldie trailed off.

“Not really an O’Rourke?” Eyes dancing with amusement, Aria grinned. “I can assure you that while I may not have been born an O’Rourke, I am very much one of them.”