Page 29 of Knot Your Sugar

"And for your exceptional work," Chen continues, her smile widening, "Beaumont Patisserie is thrilled to award you both with an entire evening of pampering and relaxation at the exclusive Lakeview Hot Springs Spa! That includes a massage and access to the private hot spring pools. Congratulations!"

A massage? Will it be in the same room as James, like a couple's massage?My grin freezes slightly. Okay, the universedefinitely has a twisted sense of humor. Still… after the last few days, it sounds like actual heaven. Even if it involves being in close, semi-clothed proximity to my fake-'boyfriend'-blackmailer partner.

"Well, partner," James says, nudging me with his elbow, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of triumph and amusement. "Looks like our 'hardship' continues. Shall we?"

* * *

A sleek black car, part of Dorian's fleet (of course, he has one at his beck and call), pulls up just outside the festival grounds near the competition area, and a chauffeur opens the door for us.

As the car glides smoothly away from the bustling festival grounds, I lean back against the plush leather seats, a dazed smile on my face.

The drive takes us through the outskirts of Lakeview, past charming, historic Victorian homes with wraparound porches and vibrant flower gardens, then up a winding road that offers breathtaking glimpses of Lakeview itself, nestled like a jewel amidst the emerald green hills and the sapphire blue of the lake. The early evening sun casts a golden glow over everything, making the scenery look like something out of a postcard. It’s moments like these that remind me why, despite everything, I fell in love with this quirky little town.

As I glance over at James, who's gazing out his window with a pensive expression, I tell myself that maybe everything won't end in disaster after all.

Maybe this fake romance, this spa trip, this whole insane festival experience... won't be the catastrophe I've been bracing for.

Or maybe I'm just drunk on frosting and winning.

The jury's still out... but the spa session might provide some answers.

Chapter sixteen

Dorian

I watch from a distance as Elena and James whisk themselves away in one of my cars, practically hand in hand.

I'm still impressed by what they created today. Their cookie chests were whimsical, and you could see the heart in every detail.

I hadn't anticipated them making such a great team, however. The way they moved around each other in that cramped station, the unspoken communication... it was impressive. And now, watching them leave together for their well-deserved spa evening, that synergy takes on an entirely different meaning.

"They do make a pretty handsome couple, don't they?" Lisa Chen appears beside me, her gaze following the departing car.

I maintain a carefully neutral expression, a skill honed over years of boardroom negotiations and society galas. "Who might that be, Lisa?"

"James Reynolds and Elena Avery, of course," she says, a knowing little smile playing on her lips. "They met at a regional baking conference last spring. Started dating shortly after."

"Is that so?" I take a measured sip of the lukewarm coffee I'm nursing, using the mundane action to mask a flicker of surprise. "I wasn't aware."

"We learned about it yesterday," Lisa continues, oblivious to my internal monologue. "William was initially a bit concerned, but I reminded him there's nothing in the festival charter prohibiting romantic relationships between contestants. As long as it doesn't compromise the competition's integrity." She smiles. "And honestly, they're both incredibly talented. They've earned their spots here, relationship or not."

"Indeed." The single word feels woefully inadequate.

Lisa excuses herself, leaving me alone with my increasingly unruly thoughts. Elena and James. A couple. What is she talking about? That can't be true, so it shouldn't register as anything more than fake news. It certainly shouldn'taffectme.

And yet.

I've maintained scrupulous professionalism around Elena since our encounter in the woods. Limited our interactions to polite nods and formal exchanges, despite the vivid memory of how her body responded to mine: powerful, intense. The kind I never thought I'd ever experience… let alone with abeta.

But then, that's been Elena's effect since our first meeting. Unexpected, genuine, refreshing in ways my life rarely allows.

That first night at The Tipsy Whisk, and again last night during those stolen moments, I felt like simply Dorian. Not Dorian Beaumont, CEO of Beaumont Patisserie, multi-billionaire scion of a baking dynasty. Just a man utterlycaptivated by a fascinating woman who looked at me without the distorting lens of my family name, my fortune, my position.

I check my watch. Nearly six. The judges' dinner looms in an hour. Another obligation, another stark reminder of the chasm between my world and Elena's.

Elena and James, though... they make sense. Two ambitious, talented bakers navigating the same competitive landscape, sharing identical dreams, understanding identical sacrifices.

My world consists of boardrooms and quarterly reports, shareholder expectations and global supply chains. An empire that began humbly with my grandfather and now employs thousands while generating billions. It's a legacy I feel responsible to protect and expand.

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