Chapter 3 - An Unexpected Proposition
A week passed, and the story of the "Plus-Size Baker and the Silver Dress" began to circulate through Chicago's elite circles. While some high-society clients canceled their consultations out of fear of being associated with "drama," a new wave of customers flooded Golden Hearth, drawn by Maggie’s sudden notoriety and the undeniable beauty of her portfolio.
But the real shift happened on a rainy Tuesday evening.
Maggie was closing up, sweeping the floor, when a black town car pulled up outside. This time, Elias didn't come in. Instead, his driver stepped out, holding an umbrella, and knocked on the glass door. He handed Maggie a handwritten note.
Ms. Hayes, I am hosting a private dinner tonight at my residence. The guests are individuals who value discretion, quality, and power. I require a dessert that tells a story. My car is outside. — E.H.
Noah looked over her shoulder. "Are you going to go? Maggie, this could be a trap. Or an audition."
"Or an opportunity," Maggie said, looking down at her flour-stained jeans. She thought of Ruth Ellis, who had believed in her when no one else did. Ruth would have told her to pack her knives and go.
An hour later, Maggie was standing in the kitchen of a massive penthouse overlooking Lake Michigan. The kitchen was a chef’s dream—all stainless steel, sub-zero appliances, and copper cookware.
Elias entered, wearing a casual cashmere sweater, his hair slightly damp from the rain. He looked younger without his armor, more human, but no less dominant.
"Thank you for coming on short notice," he said, leaning against the marble island.
"I brought a deconstructed spiced plum cake with smoked honey gelato," Maggie said, setting down her cooler. "It’s bold. It’s heavy. It doesn't apologize for its richness."
Elias watched her as she began to plate the dessert, her movements precise, confident, and beautiful. He stepped closer, his presence warm and overwhelming in the quiet kitchen.
"You don't apologize for anything, do you, Maggie?" he asked softly.
"I used to," she admitted, not looking up from her work as she drizzled the smoked honey. "Until I realized people only ask for an apology because they want to see you break. I don't break."
Elias reached out, his fingers brushing against hers as he took a small tasting spoon. The contact sent a jolt of electricity up her arm. He tasted the gelato, his eyes closing for a brief second as the flavors hit his palate.
May you like
When he opened them, they were dark with an intensity that made Maggie’s breath catch.
"Perfect," he whispered. "The dessert, and the woman who made it."
