Page 36 of The Mogul: Leonard

When we’re in the elevator I can’t stop a laugh from bubbling up in my chest. “I think we shocked your secretary,” I say.

“Probably. She’s not used to this familiarity.” He smiles.

“Always playing the boss card with her?” I roll my eyes.

“No, she’s just not comfortable mixing her professional and private life, and I respect that,” he explains simply and I feel a pang of guilt in my chest.

I assumed he was the one keeping his distance.

“So, where are we going?” I ask when I step out of the elevator toward his car. The driver is already waiting for us by the back door. I wonder if he lives in this car. Sometimes he looks like part of the amenities this luxury vehicle offers. He never talks either, like he is not human at all.

“You’ll see.” A smug smile appears on his face.

I’m guessing today I’ll get to eat at a fancy restaurant I couldn’t afford unless I go out with my sister and Raphael.

I couldn’t be more wrong. When the car drives into a neighborhood that doesn’t scream super rich, I start to suspect I’m not getting a fancy experience.

When it stops in front of what looks like a family diner, I’m relieved. I won’t be ashamed to wear shorts and sneakers while eating my meal.

“What is this place?” I ask when he helps me out of the car.

“Something I discovered a while ago,” he says cryptically.

It’s typical Leonard. He never gives you a straight answer, and I’ve learned not to push him. He likes to be mysterious, but in the end, he’ll answer your question.

We enter the place, and I was mistaken. It’s not a diner. It’s a bakery. My mouth hangs open in front of shelves loaded with at least ten different kinds of bread, pastries, but also sandwiches. A small fridge on the left contains bottles of water and sodas.

“This is a paradise,” I say while deeply inhaling the smell of freshly baked bread.

Leonard chuckles. “I know. It smells so good, and it tastes even better.”

I turn toward him and encounter a genuine smile on his face. He looks almost younger with that dreamy, nostalgic gaze. I don’t know what this place reminds him of, but I am sure it’s a good memory.

“Leonard!” A black-haired, olive-skinned woman hollers from behind the counter.

She is in her mid-sixties, maybe older, with a smile that takes over her whole face. She walks around the counter and hugs him. And he hugs her back. Leonard willingly hugs someone. I’m astounded.

“How are you doing?” he asks as she walks back around the counter.

There is no one besides us in this place, and it’s a bit surprising, considering how good those things look.

“Good! How are you doing?” she asks, but Leonard stays silent for a long moment, studying her.

“How are you really doing?” he asks again, and this time, the woman looks almost shy.

“Business is a bit slow lately, but we’ll be fine.” She smiles as though she’s almost convinced of her statement, but it doesn’t lessen Leonard’s worried look. His eyebrows are still knitted in concern.

“What can I get you?” she asks me, clearly wanting to change the subject.

For a moment, I think he won’t drop the subject, prying information from her, but then he puts a hand on my back and guides me to the counter.

“Their burrata and sun-dried tomato sandwich is the best,” he suggests.

“I’ll go with his suggestion,” I tell the woman.

“Do you want a bit of pesto in it?” she asks.

“Yes, please!” It comes out more needy than I intended.

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