Page 86 of Knot Your Sugar

"W-what?"

He leans in slightly, his voice soft but sure. "Let me invest in you, Elena. Call it a loan, if that makes it easier. Or a gift, if your pride allows. You deserve it."

"You’d make it the best damn bakery this side of the Atlantic," James adds.

Cole nods, eyes shining. "You have the talent. The fire. All you need now is the launchpad."

"Oh my god," I breathe, "my own bakery…"

"Which would mean you wouldn't be an employee anymore…" Dorian smiles, "but an entrepreneur."

My tears spill freely. After the humiliation, the certainty that my career was toast, I not only have a future, but it’s the future I’d barely dared to dream of. My own creative space. My own business…

"But I don’t… I don't deserve this," I whisper, my voice thick. "Not after how I pushed you all away."

"This isn't about what you did or didn't do," Dorian says, his voice steady and grounding. "It's about your talent. Your heart. What you've accomplished despite everything working against you." His gaze softens. "Besides, can any of us really claim we haven't screwed up at some point? I mean, I literally got caught with my pants down during a baking competition."

I snort-laugh despite the heat building in me. "That's one way to put it."

"What matters," he continues, a smile tugging at his lips, "is what we choose to do next. And I'm not just talking about a bakery anymore, Elena."

He swallows hard, his usual composure flickering. "What I'm trying to say is... I want you, Elena. I'm pretty sure we all do." He looks at James and Cole.

James grins, though there's something vulnerable in his eyes. "Damn right I do. You've got me wrapped around your little finger, Elena. Hope you're ready for that level of devotion."

Cole nods slowly, his usual stoic mask softening. "Couldn't have said it better myself. We all want you, Elena. Andhonestly?" He glances at the other two with something like fondness. "I think we work well together."

"I… I want you too," I say, my voice soft but clear, meeting each of their gazes. "All of you. As incredibly different and wonderful as you are. Even if we're all figuring this out as we go."

Another wave of heat pulses through me, making me shift restlessly against my silk robe. "Also…" I twist my fingers together, looking down shyly. "Just… just to be one hundred percent sure… Will you all… help me through this? My heat, I mean?"

The air shifts. Their expressions turn hungry. Primal. But they fight it, their eyes locking onto mine, filled with something deeper than just lust.

"Of course,chérie," Dorian says, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that makes my knees weak. "It would be my profound honor to take care of you."

"Sugar, I've been fantasizing about this since our first 'fake' kiss," James adds, his usual swagger replaced by something raw and honest. "I'm happy the script finally caught up."

Cole steps closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper meant just for me. "Nothing would mean more to me, Elena. I want to take care of you, to be there for you through every moment of this."

The moment shimmers. Then another rush of heat crashes through me. I gasp, arching.

Chapter forty-five

Elena

The cramps aren't just cramps anymore; they're full-blown construction projects, rolling through me in waves that leave me gasping and clinging to the bed's expensive Egyptian cotton sheets.

Sweat beads on my forehead despite the cool breeze wafting through the open terrace doors. But underneath the pain and the desperate, thrumming arousal, an equally powerful and entirelyunfamiliarurge is taking over.

"It's not right," I mutter, my hands twisting in the sheets, bunching them with a growing agitation I don't understand. "It's all wrong. Too… flat. Too…" I push myself up, my movements clumsy, my body buzzing like an espresso machine. My inner baker wants to laminate dough, my inner omega apparently wants to laminatebedding.

James, bless his concerned heart, hovers nearby, radiating alpha-level worry. His scent, that intoxicating bergamot and saffron, is driving me half-mad with need yet hispresencefeels… wrong right now.

"What's wrong, Elena? Talk to us," he asks, his voice carefully gentle, his blue eyes wide.

"Everything!" I snap, the word tearing from me, raw and hormonal. I immediately regret it, wincing as he flinches slightly.

"Sorry," I manage, my voice choked. "It’s just… I need…" My gaze sweeps the room, a frantic interior decorator on a deadline. WhatdoI need? Softer. Warmer.Them, but… not them? "I need… I need…" My gaze sweeps the room, searching.

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