Page 11 of Between Love and Loathing

“What was that?”

I almost jumped seven feet when I felt his breath at the back of my neck, so close, in my personal space, and not at all professional. I whipped around, and there Dominic was, up close and personal, towering over me like a freaking CEO would. He was so tall, I had to peer up at him. Why did he have to look even better up close? I heard Paloma murmur a "Jesus” before I stepped back and muttered, “Oh, nothing.”

“You sure, Clara?” He narrowed his gaze on me.

I nodded quickly.

Rita then said loudly, “Clara, we’ll have the menu and hours soon to coordinate with Valentino and Justin, correct?”

Paloma’s lip curled, like she was about to stand up for me, but I laid a hand on her shoulder. I turned and replied to everyone, “I’m finalizing the morning menu for opening day. Hours have been solidified as 6 a.m. to 3 p.m. every day. The staff is prepared.”

That wasn’t exactly the truth. I didn’t really have a staff except for me and Matt right now who I’d given off until a week before opening day. I would get someone to work weekends hopefully soon. I just needed to iron out costs and everything in between. And I’d thrown out the last menu a week ago, furious that nothing felt right. Determined but also petrified, nothing seemed to be the perfect fit. How could it when everything I created here was shot down. My recipes were meant to be bold and vibrant with every bite.

This bakery wasn’t.

“Clara, I need to discuss a few details. Please keep moving, Rita. We’d like to finish this meeting in enough time for everyone to handle priorities before the party tonight,” Dominic commanded from behind the crowd, a lone wolf no one dared walk next to.

The man was an enigma. A larger-than-life loner here in California. In Florida, he was different. Approachable … at least with his family. I’d seen how he smiled at his brothers, at my stepsister, at her baby. He hadn’t smiled once today. Here, he was untouchable, and I didn’t want to be alone in a room with him, not after how many times he’d found a way to cut me down.

Even so, I wrung my hands together, and my heels clicked on the tile of the lobby toward my sleek bakery.

One step and then another.

Dominic was this untouchable god to most of us here.

Click. Click.

To me, though, he was the devil.

Click. Click.

And there I went, walking right into hell with him.

CLARA

He followed the track of my finger before he pulled his eyes up to meet mine. “How’s your welcome to the City of Angels been?”

The man had the audacity to ask me that now? “I’ve been here for a month, Dominic.”

“Right.” He wasn’t dumb, not by a long shot. And he wasn’t socially awkward either. So, that left me to believe he was just being rude.

How sad that my stepfather had handed over this resort to him. A man that couldn't even greet me when I got off my flight or ask me to lunch or give me a walk-through of the place we’d both be working at. “The city is fine and so is your resort.”

He hummed and leaned against the counter, swiping a hand over imaginary dust so that he didn’t have to look at me. “You really don’t like the resort or the bakery, do you? It resembles a hospital to you?”

I turned to look around me. The pink dishes I’d requested were white; the linens folded in the back were, I knew, white when I’d asked for red. Over and over, my desires had been rejected.

I was to blame, though, ultimately. I’d been compliant, merely requesting rather than demanding.

I pushed the tip of my stiletto into the rug in front of the register. That was black, too. “My taste in the resort doesn’t really matter.”

“If you say it doesn’t, then it really doesn’t,” he concluded, agreeing with me.

“Well then.” I shrugged. “Why even ask me then?”

“Because if you’re going to work here, we need you to at least attempt to keep a leash on your ridiculously illogical opinions.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re illogical. Other than the strip, this place is—”