Page 55 of Burn

“Yes, he’d like them here by midnight in his room.”

I swallow over the rising lump in my throat. Why couldn’t he be threatening to jump out his window instead of wanting cupcakes? What the fuck is wrong with this dude?

“I know the owner. Text me the order and let me see what I can do.” And then I hang up and stomp my foot. “Goddamn it.” Tucking my phone away, I run upstairs to my office, not an easy task to do in heels, grab my purse and plop down in my chair.

My phone dings and I see it’s Shade’s order.

A dozen coconut lime and a dozen dance party cupcakes.

I pick up my desk phone and dial Trevor’s number. I’m not expecting him to answer but he does, and I nearly choke on my breath at the luck. “Holy shit, you answered!”

He laughs. “Well, hello, Milena.” There are a few people who call me by my full name. Most call me Mila. My father and Trevor are the ones who call me Milena.

“Trevor, I have the biggest favor to ask of you . . .” And then I wait for him to say anything, Mila. Anything for you, my dear.

“Will you catch your kitchen on fire?”

No. I don’t really ask that, but you bet your ass I’m thinking it.

“So I have this VIP staying here, Shade Sawyer, and he wants cupcakes delivered to his room by midnight.” I blurt all that out in a single breath. Not easy to do I might add. It makes me light headed.

Quick, pass out!

Sadly, I do not, and Trevor’s gasp pulls me from thoughts of CPR being performed on me while I slip him my tongue. Not Trevor, Caleb.

“That’s like twenty minutes away. It will take me that long to get to the shop.”

And this is where I earn my pay and job status. “Trevor, I’m begging you. If this wasn’t important, I wouldn’t ask.”

He knows this. I’ve been friends with Trevor for ten years, and I’ve asked one favor of him. It was to make me red velvet cupcakes infused with tequila when I turned twenty-one. Best night ever.

He also knows, because he’s friends with my father, in the hotel industry, doing everything you can do for a VIP guest makes or breaks your hotel. If you can’t accommodate their needy requests, they will go somewhere that can and give their money to that hotel.

On average, Shade drops eighty grand every time he stays here. I’m not lying. It’s a shitload of money, and he has it coming out his ears.

How do you think my dad would react if I tell him Shade won’t be staying at our hotel anymore because I wouldn’t deliver him cupcakes?

He’d probably fire my ass. Family or not.

“Okay, meet me at the shop. I’m leaving now. What does he want? I might have them already made as the bakers have already started for tomorrow.”

I sigh in relief, my heart pounding in my chest. “He wants a dozen toasted coconut lime and a dozen dance party.”

“Okay. Meet me there.”

After hanging up, I run out of my office, down to the lobby where Tom is standing by the doors looking bored. He holds up the keys to Nixon’s Maserati. “Wanna take it for a spin?”

I’m tempted, believe me, I am, but the last thing I want is in Nixon’s car. It would probably eat me and or hold me hostage. Wait . . . shit, I’m thinking of that Stephan King movieChristine.

I wave Tom off. “I’m surprised you’re still employed here.”

I run up the street. In heels. Cupcake Royale is six blocks away and I consider twice throwing myself into oncoming traffic.

I’m sweating, out of breath and thinking seriously about looking for another job when I get to the shop about the same time Trevor is.

He gives me a weak smile and clicks the lock button on his Mercedes parked somewhat on the street and mostly on the sidewalk. He’s dressed in a robe and pajama bottoms. “You know I love you and your family, right?”

I hug his side. “I know you do and we love you so much!”

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