Mr. Black's Proposal (Part Two: A Billionaire Erotic Romance) (7 page)

It was Andy.

“I need your help.”

Now, Andy had a propensity toward being a drama queen. But this time, it was different. Today was Lucas’s party. And there was a strident nerve in his tone that scared me.

“What is it?”

“Keith got into a car accident.”

My vision went dark for a moment. I gripped the side of the kitchen counter. Keith was our driver for all of the coffee shops and parties.

“Is… is he okay?”

There was a pause.

“Andy!
Is he okay?
”

“He’s fine.”

“Thank God.”

“But the cupcakes aren’t.”

“Oh, shit.”

One worry replaced another, and I drew a deep breath in anticipation of what Andy was going to tell me. I’d spent all day yesterday agonizing over those cupcakes.

“It’s all over the local TV stations. He didn’t have the cases strapped down in the back and got T-boned by some idiot running a red light. Cupcakes everywhere. Bystanders were pelted with frosted red velvet cake. It looked so gruesome.”

There was a roaring in my ears.

“Shit.”

“Steph, I’m sorry. Do you want me to call Lucas?”

“I can’t fuck this up.”

My heart was pounding, and I was thinking quickly.

“Steph? Steph? It’s already fucked up.”

“I can’t fuck this up. I want to be professional. I
have
to be professional.”

“Steph?”

“We’ll do it at his apartment.”

“What?”

“He has a kitchen, it’ll work.” I was trying to convince myself it would work.

“There? In his kitchen? Aren’t you at the bakery right now?”

“The ovens are full of sheet cakes right now. We can’t afford to pull them out half-baked and lose them. We’ve already lost how much in cupcakes?” I tried to tally up how much I’d already spent on Lucas’s cupcakes. It was too much. Way too much.

“Fine,” Andy said. “So what do we do?”

“I’ll mix up some batter. The frosting—shit, we don’t have enough sugar. You go to the store and buy cream cheese and powdered sugar, okay?”

“Got it.”

“We’ll bake the cupcakes there. Quick-cool in the freezer, frost them up.” I looked at the clock. “It’ll be close, but I’ll try and get Lucas to stall.”

“Okay.”

“If you get there before me, start mixing up the frosting.”

“What if Lucas asks what’s going on?”

“Tell him… tell him we’re going to hand out the cupcakes freshly baked.”

“You think he’ll buy it?”

“I don’t care!”

I slammed the phone down. Oh, Jesus. I had to mix up three batches of cupcake batter with a single stand mixer. I didn’t give it another thought, because I knew that if I gave it another thought, I would freak myself out. For the next half hour, I was a human tornado of flour and sugar and eggs. I ran upstairs while the batter settled and grabbed a change of clothes. I stuffed it into a backpack and gathered up the mixing bowls in my arms.

Don’t fuck this up
, I told myself. Lucas was counting on me, and I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of making his mom’s birthday cupcakes.

If I thought Lucas’s apartment was going to be less stressful, I was wrong. Alex led me to the kitchen with a strange smile on his face. He offered to hold one of the mixing bowls full of batter, but I’d already had one delivery man lose my cupcakes today. Instead, I let him carry my bag with my dress in it. I snuck into the kitchen in my yoga pants without Lucas seeing me.

So far, so good.

It was when I got into the kitchen that I realized that things weren’t going to be that easy.

“Thank God you’re here,” Andy said. “I messed up the sugar ratio in the frosting. But we managed to save one of the red velvet sheet cakes, just in case everything goes to shit and we have to serve cake slices.”

“How the hell—”

“The measuring cups here are all these stupid minimalist plastic things,” Andy said. “Everything is in Swedish.”

I dragged my finger through the frosting. It dripped off like watered down glue.

“Really?” I said. “What’s Swedish for ‘dead little brother’?”

“Hey, I tried!”

“Sure. Okay. I’ll redo it. Where are the cupcake tins?”

“Right behind you.”

I turned around to find Otis with both front paws on the kitchen table. He looked up at me and wagged his tail.

“Oh God. Otis. You can’t be in here.”

I shooed him out the door and closed it. I could hear ladies’ voices. Oh, God. They were already here.

Before I poured the batter, I realized something.

“Andy, the oven lights aren’t on.”

“What? Oven?”

“You didn’t preheat the ovens?”

“Oh. Oh Jesus, Steph. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies. Get the ovens to 350! Where’s that extra sheet cake?”

“Uh—”

“It doesn’t matter. Preheat. Now.”

I poured the batter into the cups quickly. My hands were trembling as I wiped off the excess batter from around the cups. Thank God I was wearing a tank top, because I was already sweating bullets.

“Steph!”

I yelped as I looked up to see Lucas’s face poking through the doorway.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing. We’ll be ready.”

“Can I help?”

“No. I’m fine.” I needed to redo the frosting, and none of the cupcakes were actually baked, but I was sure that it would end up fine. Right? Right.

“Come here and look at this, though.”

My heart sank. Another thing that had gone wrong? I motioned to Andy to keep working, but Lucas had me by the wrist already. Oh, God. I looked down as he pulled me out of the kitchen in batter-stained yoga pants and a tank top that was way too low-cut to be presentable.

“I can’t meet anyone like this, Lucas,” I said.

“Don’t worry.”

He pulled me through a doorway right next to the kitchen that turned out to be the pantry, and he shut the door behind us.

“Lucas, what—”

He kissed me hard. I was pinned back against the shelves, and I could feel cereal boxes poking into my lower back. But his kiss, God, his kiss…

Every inch of my skin tingled from the press of his lips against mine. Even as I squirmed in his arms, I could feel my body burning instantly white-hot. How could he do this to me? Every time he touched me, it was like the first kiss all over again.

Stupid. This was so, so stupid. Delicious, but stupid. When he gave me half a breath to speak, I pushed him back. In the dim light of the pantry, his eyes still shone blue.

“Lucas,” I said, “this is not the time. I don’t have time—”

“But if you did have time, you’d spend it with me?”

“Yes! Sure!” I would say anything if it would get him to let me get back to my cupcakes.

“Later, then?”

“Yes. Later.”

I nearly shoved him out the pantry door. I thought that if he knew what was going on behind the kitchen door, he wouldn’t be kissing me. I hoped that his mother wouldn’t be disappointed. Most of all, I hoped that I would actually have something to serve at this birthday party. I thought about what I needed to get done: bake the cupcakes, finish the frosting, put on my dress, cool the cupcakes, frost the cupcakes— “What can I do?”

Lucas’s face was bright and cheerful, but it wasn’t helping.

“Just stay out there and drink wine.”

“I can do that.”

“It’ll be another, uh, thirty-five minutes. Is that okay?”

Lucas quirked his eyebrow at me. He could tell something was up. Oh, God. Was he going to fire me right then and there? He would if he knew what was going on, I was sure of it.

“You’re sure you don’t need help—”

“No!”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

I was already halfway into the kitchen when his hand caught my arm. I turned back.

“
Yes
?” I said, not bothering to hide my exasperation.

“I love you, Stephanie Hart,” he said.

My face froze in an expression of surprise. He leaned forward and planted another kiss on my lips, and then disappeared through the door.

Chapter Eight

Lucas

So far, everything was going according to plan. Steph looked a little discombobulated in the kitchen, but that wasn’t any different than normal. She’d looked even more discombobulated when I’d kissed her and told her I loved her. But it was perfect. Soon, I’d be able to introduce her to my mom.

“Happy birthday, mom,” I said, raising a glass of wine. The living room was already filling up with her guests.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said. “This is a wonderful get together. Weren’t there supposed to be cupcakes?”

“They’re being freshly baked as we speak,” I said, echoing the excuse Steph’s brother had given me.

“Oh, how nice,” she said absently. “Do you remember when I said I was bringing a surprise?”

“Yes?”

“There they are.”

She raised her chin to the door way. Alex had just escorted in three women who were definitely not my mother’s friends. They were young, all in their early twenties, if that. One blonde, one brunette, and one redhead.

“Um,” I said.

“These are all lovely girls,” she whispered. “I’d be happy if you married any one of them.”

“Mom!”

“All from good families, all well-mannered.”

“You really didn’t have to—”

“And I thought you might want someone to talk to while the old biddies are having our fun. Think of it as a special treat.”

“Thanks, mom,” I said reluctantly.

“You can’t have all of them,” she said, waggling a finger in my face. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“You really don’t.” But I knew what she thought I was thinking. Two weeks ago, I would have been falling over myself to arrange a foursome with the three girls. Now, though, there was one girl that I had in mind for my bed, and only one.

“Cheers. To an old lady who wants to be a grandmother someday.”

“Cheers,” I said, clinking my glass against hers. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when I showed her
my
surprise.

All of the guests had arrived, and I was sick of making small talk with the three girls my mom had invited to the party. They were all trying to one-up each other with stories about their elaborate birthday parties, completely unaware that I didn’t care at all who had booked the coolest band or dressed in the most expensive outfit. I ducked back to the kitchen to see how Steph was coming along.

“Cupcakes?” I asked.

“They’re ready!”

There were six plates of beautiful black and white frosted cupcakes on the counter. I leaned forward, hoping to swipe one, but Steph swatted my hand away.

“Not yet!” she said. “I just need to change into my dress and I’ll bring them out on the roller cart.”

“Alright,” I said. “Can I watch you change?”

“No!”

She slammed the kitchen door in my face and I grinned. Everything was going perfectly.

Back out in the living room, I brushed right by the trio of girls, who were arguing about handbags. I clinked a fork against my wine glass and stepped up next to my mom.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, everyone!”

I was always making speeches. It was one of the dumbest parts of being a CEO. Now, though, I looked at my mom and I was happy that I could make her proud.

“Mom, I love you more than anything. You’re a wonderful mom, a wonderful friend, and you’re always the best-dressed woman in the room.”

All of the ladies chuckled, and my mom dipped down into a short curtsy. There was light applause from all her friends.

“And I’m so glad that you put up with me all these years. I want you to know that you’ve raised me well, and I’m very happy right now. And I think you’re going to like the surprise I have for you. But without further ado, I want to present to you your first birthday present… your cupcakes!”

I looked over to the kitchen door, where Steph was waiting. Steph rolled out the cupcakes. It was then that I saw what she was wearing. It was a short black dress. A
really
short black dress. I liked it a hell of a lot, but I wasn’t sure my mom would approve. Steph licked her lips nervously, taking short steps as she pushed the cart in.

As she got close, I saw there was a smudge of flour on her nose. When she walked by in front of me, I reached over and wiped it off quickly with my thumb.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “Okay! Here they are! Red velvet on the red plates, chocolate on the black plates, vanilla on the white plates.”