Page 39 of Royal Icing

She nodded, then her gaze snapped up to his. “I don’t know how I’m going to sneak this in tomorrow. Maya doesn’t exactly know that I’m coming in with my own idea.”

“I’ll take care of it. The maids will help. What’s the deal with you two, anyway?” he asked.

Emma bit her lip. “I realize this is all going to sound extremely ungrateful.”

He lowered his voice. “I promise you will never sound more ungrateful than the king-to-be.”

It was true. John was probably the only person to ever complain about receiving a Bentley on his birthday.

“Go on,” Leo encouraged.

“So when I was about to graduate from the Institute of Culinary Education, we had a senior showcase to show off our skills. I made entremets, and Maya attended the show. She wooed me and offered a job at Crumb and Get It, which was juststarting to make its mark on the map. I accepted and neglected to read the employment contract thoroughly.”

Leo frowned. He didn’t like where this was going.

“It turns out the head baker had left, presumably because Maya is a nightmare who does nothing. Maya went to the senior showcase to find someone with talent who she could criminally underpay and take credit for all their ideas. She also trapped me with an ironclad noncompete. So I’ve been saving every possible cent while running the whole business. I do the baking, the ordering, the marketing. I even do onboarding for new hires and meet with the accountant.”

She turned to look out the window. “In a way, I should probably thank her. I have all the tools and knowledge to start my own business now. That’s why this trip is so life-changing for me. It’ll put me two years ahead of my plan. If I wow your mom and take home the second half of the money, I can quit on New Year’s Eve, then ride out the noncompete period freelancing in social media before starting my own business. At least, that’s the plan.”

Leo considered this in silence. “You’ve been doing all this and taking care of your mom?”

She turned back to him. “Yeah. Her disability payments aren’t enough for groceries, let alone skilled care. I have to pay for a nurse while I’m at work, and then I take care of her at night. She’s my mom, you know? It’s hard, but she’s worth it.”

She might as well have thrust a five-kilo bag of flour directly into his gut.

This was insane. Good people didn’t deserve to struggle like this. Emma and her mother were exactly the kind of people they could be helping here in Lynoria.

What could he even say to soothe her? Empty platitudes?

“I can’t believe you’ve been shouldering this burden all on your own. You must be exhausted.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away.

“It’s fine. It’ll all work out eventually. But not if I don’t pull off this dessert.”

He took her hand. “I’ll help you. In any way I can.”

He meant it. If he had to fly to New York and hide envelopes full of cash in her bushes twice a month, he would do it. There was a very palpable sense that Emma hadn’t had anyone to take care of her in a very long time.

“Thank you.”

As they stared at one another, time seemed to stretch and flex, simultaneously moving at lightning speed yet as slow as January.

He took a step closer. They were practically toe-to-toe. She looked up at him. He towered over her.

He had a deep urge to kiss her, to take her in his arms and hold her until they found a way to solve all her problems.

But he barely knew her. She didn’t live here, and she would leave the country in a week. What was he thinking?

She was so remarkable. Funny, resilient, driven. Delightfully uncouth and relaxed around him. It was unlike any interaction he’d ever had with a woman. They were always on their best behavior around him, but Emma couldn’t be bothered with formalities. She didn’t care who his family was.

He lifted his free hand and gently touched her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm, her eyes clear and wide. Beckoning to him. Kindling something within him.

He leaned down and was a second away from kissing her when the door to the kitchen opened.

They sprang apart. Was it his mom? But no, it was just Flossie, one of the house managers.

“Oh,” Flossie said, stopping in her tracks. A swift curtsy followed. “Your Highness. Pardon the intrusion. I was just fetching a glass of sherry for Her Majesty.”