Page 47 of Twisted Violet (Lovesick Villains #4)

VIOLET

I used to think survival was the best I could hope for.

Turns out, it’s this.

A glass case filled with handmade sweet and savory pastries. A line of hungry customers out the door. And the three gorgeous men willing to spend mornings slinging baked goods with me.

I wipe my hands on my apron and glance around the cafe.

In the front window, Dallas flexes as he flips the “Grand Opening” sign. A group of teenage girls giggle as he waves like he’s on a damn parade float.

“Stop flirting with minors,” I call out.

He turns around with a grin. “I’m boosting brand visibility.”

“You’re gonna boost your way into a prison cell,” Rome mumbles, cleaning the glass in front of the pastry case for the third time this hour.

“Should we be concerned,” I whisper to Niko. “I swear I saw him wiped it down ten minutes ago.”

Niko smirks and slides another tray of crème br?lée donuts onto the baker’s rack. He’s wearing black, of course, like this is a funeral and not the most exciting day of my life. But he scorched the tops of those donuts himself and I saw the way his mouth twitched when I said they looked perfect.

Even if he won’t admit it, he’s proud.

I am too.

Ollie trots across the tile, tail wagging like he owns the place. He’s got a “Head of Security” bandana around his neck. He stops at a table with two older ladies and flops dramatically at their feet, earning immediate coos and crumbs.

Sugar & Snout is a dog-friendly cafe. That was nonnegotiable. I even put up a little sign at the front that says, Well-behaved dogs welcome. Humans too, I guess.

Rome called it excessive. Dallas called it brilliant. Niko just smirked and said Ollie’s the one who brings in most of the business, anyway.

***

Two hours into our grand opening, the bell above the door jingles, and chaos walks in.

Stevie and her guys: Atlas, Ezra, Tristan, and Cyrus, make a beeline for the front counter like they’ve been fasting for weeks.

Cyrus stops dead in front of the display case, eyes locked on the full line of ham and Gruyère croissants.

I swear I see him tear up.

“It looks great, baby sis,” Stevie says, her eyes sweeping across the café, slow and proud. “You really freaking did it.”

I swallow, still not used to hearing things like that.

“Thanks. It still scares me, you know? Having something good. I keep thinking I’m going to mess it all up,” I admit quietly.

“You won’t.” She leans across the counter and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You were made for this.”

My throat tightens, and I nod.

Behind her, Ezra is already reaching over a stranger’s shoulder to steal a tart off their plate.

“S… seriously?” Tristan swats his hand away with a scowl.

Cyrus lets out a wheezing laugh. Atlas just sighs like he’s accepted this is his life now.

“Sorry,” Stevie says with a groan, massaging her temples. “They’re animals.”

She turns back to me. “Could we just get one of everything?”

I laugh and reach for a pastry box, the warmth settling back into my chest as I load it up for them.

“Do you ever get used to wrangling that many guys all at once?” I ask, sliding her the filled box.

“No,” she deadpans, shaking her head. “Not at all. But at the same time… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I glance across the café at my own little family.

Dallas is now behind the register, telling a customer their coffee comes with a smile, then flashing his dimples like it’s a legally binding promise.

Rome is refolding napkins that are already perfectly aligned, muttering under his breath like they’re refusing to fall in line.

Niko is leaning against the back wall, sipping his coffee and pretending like he’s not sneaking treats to the golden retriever puppy waiting at his feet.

And right in the middle of it all, Ollie is hopping up onto a chair with his snout creeping toward an unattended croissant like he wasn’t just fed twenty minutes ago.

I look at them, at my mess, my peace, my people, and I feel something settle in my chest.

“I know exactly what you mean.” I say, smiling at her.

A soft breeze slips in through the open front door, carrying the smell of sugar, espresso, and something warm I can’t quite name.

Customers laugh. Stevie rolls her eyes at Ezra. Ollie finally steals the croissant. And for the first time in my life, I don’t brace for the crash.

I just let myself enjoy it.

Because I didn’t just survive,

I built something worth living for.

And I’m never letting it go.