Page 14 of Killer Confections (Syndicate Killers #1)

Loxley

I should be excited, chipper even, to begin my day. The grand opening of Sweet Haven is something I’ve been looking forward to for years, but last night’s incident has me on edge.

Who am I kidding? That’s no incident. Some sick fuck is stalking me, and they’re damn good at it.

I shouldn’t be intrigued by whoever has full access to everything in my life, my home included. But I can’t seem to help it. How is any of this possible? How are they so good at getting past me without raising any suspicion?

Getting into the bakery with the door wide open was my fault, but I should have heard or seen them before they got to the second entrance. And now my home? I have a security system. Whoever this is, they’ve been very busy and observant.

I’m still terrified of this mystery person’s intentions, but if they were really trying to hurt me, they’ve had every opportunity. I mean, they left me flowers, for Christ’s sake!

My mind is a jumbled mess as I move around my room, pulling my uniform on.

When I spot my reflection in the body mirror next to my bed, I stop to appreciate my attire.

The pastel pink v-neck is adorable with the bakery’s white logo stamped over the breast. I paired it with some light colored jeans and a pair of worn-out shoes I can’t seem to part with.

I had matching aprons made for everyone last week, waiting at the shop for us. It all feels so official, and I smile for the first time since I dejectedly shuffled out of bed .

Once my teeth are brushed and my hair is clicked back into a bun, I go to my bedside table for my keys, but halt when I see a note sitting atop the mahogany.

My brow furrows as I grab it, unfolding it. My eyes skim the lines, anger sizzling hotter and hotter in my veins.

Call the police, and your ass will be so bruised you can’t sit for a fucking week, beautiful. See you at the grand opening.

Love,

Your Stalker

Oh, this asshole!

Who do they think they are? They can’t just come into my fucking apartment and get away with this. This isn’t some game!

“Oh, my god,” I speak out loud as my heart plummets. This note wasn’t here before I went to bed…

Bile rises in my throat.

They were here while I slept.

And now they’re going to be at the bakery’s opening.

“This is bad!” I breathe, my chest tightening and my adrenaline kicking in. Everything rushes around me, the world tunneling as the note flutters from my hand.

“Hey, I’m ready—” Addison stops in the doorway of my room, her face falling as she takes in my aghast appearance. Her eyes trail to the note on the floor and she steps forward, bending down to grab it.

She turns it over, her mouth falling open as she reads. Her eyes dart up to me. “What the fuck…”

“Yeah,” I mumble before lowering myself to the bed. I rest my elbows on my knees, burying my face in my hands.

“How…” she trails in disbelief. “How did they get past me? I didn’t even hear the front door!”

My head whips up to my friend, “Not helping! ”

She winces, “Sorry. You have to call the police after this.”

My eyes widen. “And risk the punishment? Whoever this is, they can get inside of my apartment, Addie. They did it after I changed the security code.”

She reads the note again, her brow lifting. “He sounds intense and freaky.”

I tilt my head to the side, my lips pressing into a thin line as I stare at my friend.

“What?” She throws her hands up. “This is clearly some guy who has the major hots for you. This is like a possessive book boyfriend threat. Besides, just look at the handwriting. No woman writes that poorly.”

I stand, ripping the note from her. “And I don’t know who he is. Or how he keeps getting into my house!”

She smiles, “So, you admit he’s a man?”

I groan, tossing the note onto my nightstand. “Drop it. We’ll revisit this later.”

“After you call the cops?” She asks, her tone hopeful. “I’ll even leave the apartment so you can have some privacy for your punishment—”

I slap a hand over her mouth. “Shut up.”

She smiles against my palm, nodding her head like an idiot.

***

Two hours into the opening, and I’m sweating from exertion.

The turn out was far greater than we expected.

It helps that I purposely chose the same day the farmer’s market would be open, the booths of fresh fruits and vegetables, paintings, and jewelry lining the sidewalks of downtown Columbus just outside Sweet Haven’s doors.

The roads are closed off to account for the mass of people out this morning. The lobby of my bakery is overwhelmed with men, women, and children alike trying to avoid the heat of the day and get a taste from the array of sweets my shop offers.

“We need more sugar cookies and lemon cupcakes!” Miranda, the more outspoken student hire, shouts into the kitchen. Her green streaked braids come into view and, despite her sweaty brow, she’s smiling like she’s having the most fun she’s ever had in her whole seventeen years of life.

“I have a batch of cookies,” Janette returns, dusting the flour from her face as she grabs a massive tray lined with sugar cookies that are coated in thick royal icing. The bakery’s logo is airbrushed in pink in the center and dusted with golden edible sparkles.

“Working on the cupcakes now,” Riley shouts from the back of the kitchen, where she’s been piping icing on cakes and cupcakes since we opened.

Scarlet takes out two more trays of brownies from the convection oven as I finish coating two racks loaded with Petit Fours. Addison is somewhere around here, snapping pictures for Sweet Haven’s social media pages and making lives to entice more people into the shop.

A head of short, sheared on the sides, black hair pops into the kitchen next to Miranda’s. Blair’s eyebrows and nose have shimmering silver piercings in them, giving her a more edgy look.

“There’s some guy out here asking for you, boss.” Blair pops her gum, wiggling her brows.

My hands stop and my head shoots up. My heart pounds as I swallow and wipe my hands on my apron. Another emotion circles my gut, one I’m choosing to ignore because I shouldn’t be excited at the prospect of finally seeing my stalker.

Could it be?

There’s no way he would show with so many people around…

The goth girl’s head rears back when she sees the look on my face. “Do you want me to tell him to come back later?”

“No,” I say quickly before giving her a tight smile. “I’ll be right out.”

She rolls her eyes before dipping back to the register.

“I got this,” Janette reassures me as she picks up one of the piping bags off the table. She nods to a set of swing doors. “Go and network.”

I pat her shoulder before walking to the front of the store. My nerves grow, crawling up my throat as I move to the register where Miranda rings up a family.

The son, who looks no older than five, holds up a cake pop in the shape of a fox. He smiles brightly, his dimples adorable on his chubby little cheeks.

The dads smile down at him, each holding a cookie with the shop’s logo on the front.

“Come again!” Miranda chirps, waving as the family leaves.

Blair is at the next register over, trying to hide her phone as she types out a quick message.

“Doing great,” I whisper to Miranda before moving to stand beside my other employee.

I look over Blair’s shoulder, my lips tugging up. “I don’t care if you text.”

Her head whips around and she gives me a smirk. “I’m not texting. I’m reading.”

I frown, my gaze shifting to her phone, and my eyes widen.

Tempted to Darkness: A Dark Romance Novel.

My mouth falls open, and I smack her shoulder lightly. “Put that away. You’re seventeen.”

She lifts a brow. “Eighteen next week. Do you even know what a dark romance is, grandma?”

“Grandma?!” I scoff. “I’m twenty-six and yes, I know what a dark romance is. Now, put it away.”

I know what it is because I read them regularly. It’s my favorite genre, but I would never admit that. Especially not to my seventeen-year-old employee.

She rolls her eyes before pocketing her phone. “ Whatever. I’ve read far worse on Wattpad and AO3.”

“Wat— what ?” I ask in bewilderment.

She smirks, patting my shoulder condescendingly.

“It’s okay, gram gram. Your mystery man is over there.

” She points to the far side of the room where a man, who looks to be in his early thirties, sits at a table by himself.

He has a half-eaten cupcake in front of him and his brown eyes peer around as if he’s searching for someone.

He’s conventionally attractive, with a sharp jaw and long nose. His hair is buzz-cut, and he sports khaki shorts and a black t-shirt with a bakery logo on it. I instantly recognize the logo as the long-standing establishment on Ridge Street.

Miller Family Sweets has been around for decades, passing from one generation to the next. The last I recall, Benson Miller’s son, Chance, inherited the business.

The striking resemblance this man has to the owner is a dead giveaway of who he is.

But is he my stalker?

His eyes survey the lobby, stopping when he spots me at the register. He stands, giving me a dashing smile as he walks over and offers his hand.

“Chance Miller,” he greets me when I outstretched my hand. His warm palm closes around mine as he gives a simple two shakes and releases me. “You must be Loxley Bennett?”

“I am,” I smile, reading his friendly posture in search of any clues.

He rubs a hand across the back of his neck, looking far more bashful than he should. “I’m sorry. I came over here to stake out the competition, but I didn’t expect you to be so…”

I lift a brow at the flustered man.

“Hot,” Addison chirps, popping up behind Chance with a smug expression. “The word you’re looking for is ‘hot.’”

He laughs awkwardly, lifting a shoulder. “I was going to say beautiful, but yeah.”

“She’s single too,” Addison adds, like she’s auctioning me off to any potential husbands. “Very single and business savvy.”

“No, she isn’t,” a chipper feminine voice calls from down the counter.

We all turn, and there’s a woman who looks a few years younger than me at the next register.

Miranda is ringing her up as she rests an elbow on the glass showcase.

Her chin settles in her palm as she watches us with intense blue eyes.

Her long, silky black hair is pulled into a thick braid that rests over her shoulder.

Her lips are a dusky shade of pink, the cupid’s bow as pronounced as her plump bottom lip.

She’s stunning and she reminds me of someone—someone I swore I would forget about.

“I mean,” she motions to me with a hand. “Just look at her. There’s no way she’s single.” She shoots me a wink as if to say, ‘Let me help you.’ “I’m Thalia, by the way.”

“Well, Thalia ,” Addison emphasizes smugly. “She is, in fact, single. And open to the dating scene.”

“Addie,” I warn, shooting her a scowl.

Chance chuckles, his cheeks becoming rosy.

“Well, if you’re interested, I know a great little cafe a few blocks away.

” He takes a card and a pen out of his pocket.

He scribbles out the information for Miller Family Sweets before writing out his personal number and handing it to me.

“Hit me up. I would love to take you out sometime.”

I take it, feeling my blush spread. He really isn’t a bad-looking guy. “Sure,” I smile shyly.

Thalia gives him an apathetic once over, one thick, black brow raised. Blair crosses her arms as her eyes size Chance up like she agrees with the woman on the other end of the counter. Addie bounces on her heels, looking far too giddy for my liking.

Chance leaves, and Thalia slaps the counter loudly. “Should have listened to me.” She mutters quietly before Miranda sets three large bakery boxes down on the counter.

I frown at the strange woman, unease prickling my neck at her words as she grabs the boxes and thanks Miranda.

“It was nice to meet you, Loxley.” She smirks before sauntering to the door with her order.

Addie shakes her head after the woman, pursing her lips. “She’s something else.” She looks at me, her brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” The words die as my head turns to the street. My eyes bounce around the crowd, trying to locate that familiar black hair and blue eyes, but she’s already disappeared into the crowd. “I didn’t tell her my name.”

My friend shrugs. “It could have been from my posts. I’m on a hot streak, and I’ve mentioned you countless times. Sweet Haven’s following has almost tripled today.”

“Oh, nice!” Miranda praises.

“Wonderful,” Blair deadpans.

I snap out of my daze, choosing to believe the obvious. “Great work. Can you keep it going?”

She laughs. “Does a stalker leave roses?”

I give her a detached look, my head turning. She giggles at her own joke before speed-walking from the store, her phone ready to snap some more pictures.

I feel my butt vibrate and sigh before fishing for my device.

I see a few messages from my mom, asking if her coworkers have been by yet.

I see a long message from my dad telling me good luck, and to make sure I check the oil in my car.

But the one that makes me pause is from a contact that wasn’t previously saved in my phone.

My heart thunders as I press a shaky thumb to the message, opening it.

My Stalker 3 : You look so fucking pretty in pink.

My head whips up to the glass storefront, eyes searching the crowds. I don’t know who I’m looking for, but this asshole is here— watching me .

My blood rushes and anger flares in my gut as my fingers fly across my phone’s screen .

Me : Who are you?

I bite my thumbnail, shifting from foot to foot as I wait for the next message. A bubble with three little dots pops up seconds later, showing that he’s typing. When the message appears, my hand flies away from my mouth as if I’ve been burned.

My Stalker 3 : Stop biting your nails. And I’m everything you’ve been dreaming of and more, baby.

I scoff out loud at the audacity of this man.

First, he breaks into my house to leave a note and go through my phone to plant his number, then he puts a fucking heart by his ‘name,’ which is another strike.

‘My Stalker?’ Is this a joke to him? And now he’s proclaiming he’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of?

My fingers fly furiously across the screen as I pace behind the counter.

I can feel Blair’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my head, but I’m at war with this unknown person.

When I’m happy with my message, I tap the send button, smiling smugly at my work before I shove my phone into my pocket and return to the kitchen.