Control Games (Game for Cookies Book 2) Read online

  “If you hadn’t decided at the last minute that we needed three thousand samples of chocolate-chip cookies, it wouldn’t be an issue.” Julie matched her volume to his. “Oh, and there’s the massive fact we run a bakery that specializes in cookies.”

  Dante ignored voice in his head warning he was acting like a five-year-old with a crush. “Which is a brilliant idea, by the way. Who the fuck needs to diversify? Let’s build a business plan around selling a single product, and pretend the concept has a chance of making it past the planning stages.” The agony running down his forearm made it easy to keep up the tirade.

  “If you think it’s such a shitty idea—which it’s not; it’s brilliant, because Andi is the best fucking artist you’ll ever meet—why did you invest in the first place? You’re obviously miserable being here.” Julie stalked toward him and stopped when she was toe-to-toe with him. The tantalizing scent of sweet and floral drifted from her, drilling into his thoughts and telling him to back down.

  Pride wouldn’t let him. “That’s a really good question. Smartest thing I’ve heard you ask in days. I’m starting to wonder myself why I’m wasting my time here.” He stepped to the side, to move around Julie.

  She blocked his path. “You don’t get to walk away in the middle of this. You owe Andi an apology, for trashing the last few hours of work she put into that bouquet. Which, by the way, we’ll have to refund the customer for and apologize that we won’t make it tomorrow morning, for their anniversary. And you need to pull your head out of your ass at least long enough to see your ego is making everyone else’s lives difficult. I’m not pissed off because I’ll be up all night replacing this batch. You killed Andi’s evening, and you don’t care.”

  If Julie was attractive on good days. When she was in the middle of a passionate rant, she was terrifying and awe inspiring. And Dante wasn’t interested in sinking into that fascination. He was riding the high of irrational anger.

  *

  Christopher stood at the top of a step-stool, by the back door of the bakery, examining the security camera. It was the third shattered one this week.

  The first external camera this happened with, he’d chalked up to an accident. The recorded video showed something that looked like a rock flying at the glass, and then the feed splintered into a spider web of glass before going dark.

  This was the fourth external camera to suffer an identical fate since he installed them. He could guess why someone was screwing with the security layout. The same reasons it existed in the first place—Dante had some crazy fans. Christopher didn’t like that there was no evidence of the perpetrator, though. Psycho fans typically got careless sooner rather than later.

  He didn’t know if Chicago was actually more of a hassle than anyplace he’d set up before, or if it was because being back in the city he grew up in made him wish for simpler days. Either way, he needed to order more cameras and double down on surveillance.

  He replaced the device with a new one, covered it with a fresh protective dome, and hopped the two or so feet to the ground. As he was setting the short ladder back inside, something caught his attention. A scrap of paper fluttered at the edge of the dumpster.

  It shouldn’t be a big deal, except that Dante was hyper-anal about shredding or recycling everything. It was endearing to the point of irritation, and it meant whoever tossed a print-out into the food waste would catch hell if Dante was in a foul mood.

  Christopher plucked the page from where it was wedged between two garbage bags. The rancid smell of food threatened to make him gag, but the information on the sheet pushed the reflex aside. It was a travel itinerary, like those printed for Elisa so she could keep on track of things while she was following Dante around, rather than at her desk. She hated her phone reminders. This note said the camera crew needed to be flown out on February tenth.

  That explained why they were stranded and then holed up in hotels here two days before they were scheduled to arrive. Had someone given this to Elisa? Then who threw it away after? It would explain why Elisa made such a basic mistake, when she’d had an error-free career with Dante up to this point.

  Shouting rolled into the alley. Christopher crumbled the printout and shoved it in his pocket, before following the noise. It came from the kitchen. He stalled in the doorway at what he saw. Andi looked like she was on the verge of tears, and Dante and Julie stood nose to nose, both red faced.

  “If you weren’t a fucking control freak who doesn’t know how to let other people step up sometimes, this wouldn’t be such a disaster.” A raw note ran through Dante’s voice.

  Julie clenched her teeth. “This coming from an arrogant prima- donna with a fucking God complex.”

  The floor around them was littered with broken chocolate chip cookies, and a stack of Andi’s frosted designs were smeared on the tile behind Dante’s feet.

  “I’m done here. You’re so happy to take charge—you can deal with your own disaster.” Dante turned but paused when he met Christopher’s gaze. Dante’s eyes hardened, and he pursed his lips before brushing past Christopher.

  Christopher grabbed Dante by the arm and spun him back around. Dante stared at him, nostrils flared and jaw set. Christopher processed and discarded a million different responses in a millisecond, ranging from confrontational to sympathetic. He shook his head and let go of Dante, who hesitated for the slightest second before storming to his car.

  Loyalty insisted Christopher follow him and find out what was going on. Based on the brief snippet of shouting he’d heard, he couldn’t tell if Julie or Dante started the argument. He tried to force himself to follow Dante, but the tension filling the kitchen and flooding into the back alley froze his feet in place.

  Who the hell cared about disrupted security cameras if the investor and the baker killed each other before the place even opened?

  He glanced at Julie and Andi one last time, before sprinting after Dante. Christopher caught him in the parking lot. This time only one question popped into his head. “Are you okay?”

  Dante’s shoulders rose and fell before he turned around. “Fine.” The word was clipped.

  “Which isn’t true, but all right.” What Christopher witnessed inside was a-whole-nother world of venom from what he was used to between Dante and Julie. He noticed Dante was favoring his arm, and grasped his fingers. An angry red welt stared back at him, noticeably swollen compared to the rest of the arm. “Jesus. What happened?”

  Dante pulled away and dug out the first-aid kit he kept in the back of the car. “Long story. I need a favor or two.”

  “Here.” Christopher took the bottle of aloe and applied a generous amount to the burn on Dante’s arm. “Is the favor driving you to the emergency room?”

  “I’m fine. Really. Will you tell Julie not to cancel that bouquet order? And what’s your schedule like the rest of the afternoon?”

  Christopher wasn’t doing much, besides keeping an eye on the cameras until new ones got here. “I have to place an equipment order, and then I’m free.”

  “In that case, see if there’s anything you can do to help Julie make up for lost time? Clean up, damage control. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “Sure...” Christopher gave Dante a quick kiss, then headed back inside. Weird fucking afternoon.

  Chapter Six

  Christopher stepped back into the kitchen. “What happened? Dante wouldn’t tell me.”

  Julie wanted to be offended he was looking at Andi, rather than her, but the icy numbness floating through her veins kept her from being much of anything. Andi was more likely to give an objective answer, and Julie didn’t know if she could handle both men being furious at her for... What? She wasn’t sure how Dante justified the tear he went on.

  “I don’t know.” Andi’s voice was shaky. “Dante ran into Julie, there was a big mess, he started shouting about how investing in us was a mistake, and your boyfriend’s an asshole.”

  I told you so. Julie didn’t feel the smugness she should. �
�Are you all right?” she let concern filter into her question, despite the blankness inside.

  Andi nodded. “I think you took the brunt of it. Let me help you clean up.”

  “No.” Julie swallowed. “That is, I’ve got this.” She knelt in the middle of the chaos of broken cookies and resisted the urge to turn an accident into a meaningful metaphor. “Refund the client’s order, along with an apology and a promise they’ll have it a day late.”

  “Dante doesn’t want you to do that,” Christopher said.

  Julie bit the inside of her cheek, to hold back the irritation that flared inside. “I don’t remember asking his opinion.”

  “I think he feels bad about what he said.” Hesitation lined Christopher’s words.

  “I think he should drag his cruel, callous ass back in here and apologize, if that’s the case.” Julie kept a flood of emotion at bay. Focusing on nothing was the only way she’d make it through this. She didn’t want to take things out on Andi or Christopher, but—God help her—if he didn’t stop making excuses for Dante, she wouldn’t be able to help herself.

  Christopher pursed his lips. “What will it take to replace the bouquet and have it ready to go by the end of the night? You tell me—we’ll make it happen. Don’t worry about meeting a FedEx deadline. Give me a timeframe and a plan.”

  The realization that he knew she could do this, if she got herself under control, helped Julie climb back from the ledge her temper perched her on. She looked at Andi. “We don’t have enough dry goods on hand to remake both batches and still meet demands tomorrow.” Julie hoped to hold out an extra day. It shouldn’t have been an issue. “It will take me a couple of hours to get you a fresh dozen for your bouquet, that are cool enough to paint on, and clean up this mess. Can you pick up more flour and such?”

  “Of course. Do you want me to call the guys?” Andi’s kindness would be relaxing, but the offer to have Kane and Isaiah around cranked Julie’s tension.

  It wasn’t that she disliked Andi’s boyfriends. In fact, the three were fantastic together. But the relationship made her uneasy. Julie was always worried Andi was going to get her heart broken. If that happened, Julie didn’t want to have any kind of friendship with the men; she’d need to be there for Andi. “No. I appreciate it, but there’s only so much work to go around, and there’s barely enough room in here as it is. You’ll need to do the painting upstairs.”

  Andi headed toward the apartment. “Got it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Julie turned her attention back to the mess on the floor. She picked up crumbs and larger pieces, and added to the pile in her hand. Without conversation, her mind was free to replay Dante’s cruel words. Who the fuck needs diversity? I’m starting to wonder if I’m wasting my time here. He didn’t actually think this was a mistake, or he wouldn’t have given them a chance in the first place.

  Despite the logic, tears pricked the inside of her eyelids, and her throat felt raw. She forced back the surge of emotion, but it didn’t want to be suppressed.

  “Hey. Let me help.” Christopher’s soft voice shattered the rest of her hold on control, and the heat of his hand on her arm jolted through her, tempting and infuriating.

  She jerked away reflexively. “I’ve got it.” She looked up and saw his tight-lipped shock. Guilt flowed through her, stifling the chaos inside. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t pick up any more crumbs.” He left the room and returned seconds later with a trash bag. “Throw out what you’re holding, then give me your hand.”

  “Thank you.” It was easier for her to follow his command than come up with reasons to argue. Dante’s words rang in her head, gnawing at doubt and thought. She wiped her palm on her apron before clasping Christopher’s hand and letting him tug her to her feet. Why was this hitting her so hard?

  “You work on whatever you need to, in order to finish on time. I’ll take care of cleanup, and I promise to stay out of your way,” he said.

  She gave him a grateful smile and turned to her ingredients. Fortunately, she had enough fresh dough in the fridge to replace the frosted cookies for the client. She dove into work and let her hands and mind follow a pattern they knew and loved.

  She moved from one step to the next. Christopher was true to his word. He had a knack for moving aside at the right time and grabbing what she asked for without hesitation.

  Her phone rang and she jumped at the jarring shrill in the middle of the tentative calm. She fumbled for it, grimacing at the flour she smeared across the screen when she hit Answer. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Jules.”

  “Luke. Hi.” She tried to keep the stress from her voice. Now wasn’t a great time to chat, but she didn’t want to be rude. How many more ways could she tell him I’m really busy this week and next? “What’s up?”

  Christopher glanced at her, brows raised. Julie wasn’t in the mood to second-guess what his questioning gaze meant, so she turned away.

  “A friend just gave me two tickets to that special production of Phantom that’s playing in town next month. Your name popped into my head first, and I figured with your schedule, I should get on your calendar now.”

  The sentiment made her smile. Phantom of the Opera was one of her favorite stage productions. “I’m not sure.” It killed her to have to say that. “Send me the date, and I’ll pencil it in?”

  “When will you know?”

  “Let me make it through the grand opening and I can confirm.”

  “That’s fair,” Luke said brightly. “I’ll email the details in a little bit.”

  She disconnected. Ambivalence hummed inside. The gesture was sweet, but something about the phone call seemed off to her. Or, she was paranoid thanks to Dante and his inclination to overreact to everything.

  “Friends making plans.” She gave Christopher a half-smile and turned back to her work. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to explain anything, and at the same time wondered why she kept that information so generic. Dante definitely had her off her game.

  Minutes turned into an hour and then more, as Julie and Christopher worked in silence.

  “Do you think Andi is happy with Kane and Isaiah?” Christopher’s words startled Julie, and she jumped. It wasn’t the abrupt sound; it was the nature of his question. “Rather, do they have a good relationship?”

  “That’s the second time you’ve asked me that.” This wasn’t the right time, place, or person for Julie to get into her personal opinions about the situation. The impulse to tease Christopher about being tired of the view at home flashed inside, followed by surge of jealousy that he might be considering any one of them rather than—

  She bit off the thought before she could finish it.

  He turned to face her. “You keep deflecting.”

  “Why do you think I have an answer?”

  “Because I’m wondering what you think about the arrangement, and that’s the best way for me to find out.”

  “Then it’s not because you’ve realized you’re dating an asshole, and your eye is wandering?” She bit the inside of her cheek at his raised brows. “Apologies. That wasn’t appropriate.”

  “So much for distracting you. And no. I happen to love him, asshole or not.”

  Julie shrugged. “In that case, the three of them seem happy.” She’d keep the rest to herself. She hadn’t said anything to Andi. There was no reason to share her opinions with Christopher.

  “But...?”

  “There’s no but. A relationship like that isn’t for everyone, and as long as they don’t break her heart, it’s all fine.” Damn it. Why was she still talking?

  Christopher studied her. “In other words, if things go south, it’ll be one of the men who’s to blame.” His tone was curious and void of accusation.

  “It seems more likely. Kane and Isaiah were together before Andi. If it falls apart, odds are good it’ll be because the novelty wore off for one or both of them.” She hated
how callous she sounded, but personal experience reminded her it was true. Couples had a hard enough time making love last. Add a third to the mix, and that was just asking the gods to screw with things. “I don’t care that three people have sex, but it doesn’t seem like a long-term relationship plan.”

  “One of them doing the heartbreaking runs with the assumption she loves them both. Why wouldn’t the inverse apply?”

  Julie didn’t know how to make this clear. The concept seemed straightforward. “Relationships like that don’t work. It doesn’t matter if it’s Andi or one of the guys. Eventually, it’s going to fall apart.”

  A door swung shut behind Julie, bashing against its frame, and she whirled to see Andi standing near the staircase, scowling.

  “Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.” Andi’s tone was cold and flat.

  Shit. “I didn’t mean it like that, Andi. It’s context. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Are the cookies ready for me?” Andi wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “Yes. I’ll help you carry them upstairs.”

  “We’ve got it. Kane’s with me. Unless you don’t trust him to do it without letting me down.”

  If there was a way for this conversation to go more poorly than Julie imagined, this was it. “Please. I’m sorry.”

  “I know. You didn’t mean for me to hear.” Andi brushed past her and grabbed the tray waiting for her artwork. “Let me do this, so Dante doesn’t keep asking if we’re a mistake, and leave me alone for a little while.”

  A pit sat heavy in Julie’s gut, as she let Andi leave. Julie would grovel and explain, and things would be all right—she hoped—but letting Andi cool off first would make her more receptive to an apology.

  “I didn’t mean to start a fight.”

  Julie turned back to Christopher. She’d forgotten he was there. It would be easy to blame him; he started the conversation. This was her fault for hiding things from Andi. “Don’t worry about it. I need to finish up here, but you can go if you want. There’s not much more you can do.”