Page 55 of The Mogul: Leonard

Roxanne

I sit in my car for a long time, simmering with anger and disappointment. How could Leonard not say a thing when his dear friend started to rant against me? His bewildered expression can’t compensate for his lack of words. I don’t understand; he’s one of the most intelligent people I know, yet he’s easily influenced by his feelings for his friend. It doesn’t make sense. Nobody achieves so much without a ruthless mindset. No matter what, you have to sacrifice your personal life to reach that kind of success. Leonard has indeed shown me he cares about things other than his job, but blindly trusting a person who is clearly hostile towards both of us is a rookie mistake he shouldn’t be making.

There’s more to this story, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve been blindsided by the same man who shared so many secrets with me. Professional secrets, not personal ones, but this doesn’t change the reality that he trusted me with those. I take a deep breath, not sure if I’m angrier about what happened in his office or because I felt excluded from his world as soon as Oliver entered the room. Before Oliver showed up, we were a team, but afterward, I felt like an annoying spectator of their long-lasting friendship. I felt personally betrayed, and that thought scares me the most.

I start the car and drive into traffic without any specific destination in mind. After the turmoil of the past hour, I need a distraction to calm my anger and clear my thoughts. I take random turns, changing the scenery, which helps to ease my anger. As I begin to calm down, I start recognizing some of the buildings around me. The bakery where Leonard took me to eat is just a few yards away.

I park close to the entrance and walk down the sidewalk to reach the place. Compared to the luxury I’ve experienced recently, it’s a poor neighborhood, but it’s not as run-down as one would expect. It’s certainly not fancy but everything is well-kept, clean, and the overall vibe is that people enjoy living here.

I reach out to grab the door handle but hesitate, feeling like I’m somehow spying on Leonard’s personal life coming here alone. It’s a strange feeling, but I dismiss it along with my lingering anger. The baked goods are amazing here, so why shouldn’t I enjoy them? I shake my head, smiling at my silly thoughts, and walk in. It’s still quite early, and the place is not busy, just like the other time we came here for lunch. The doorbell rings, and the two people behind the counter look up with a smile. I recognize them from the previous time I was here.

“Welcome! We’ll be with you shortly,” the woman says cheerfully.

I nod and smile at her while peering from behind the customer she serves to decide what to eat. My mouth waters at the display case in front of me full of savory and sweet pastries to choose from. I can’t decide what to try first—because there will absolutely be more than one pastry on my plate today.

“What can I get you?” the woman asks me with a genuine smile.

“Difficult question. I want some of everything,” I giggle, and she chuckles.

“Do you trust me?” Her tone is almost conspiratorial.

I nod, intrigued. I take a moment to study the dark circles and fine lines around her eyes. She is not old, but she’s definitely tired.

“Do you have any allergies?” She tilts her head.

“Fortunately, not,” I shake my head.

“I’ll make something up for you.” She winks at me and fills a plate with way too many things to count. She doesn’t hesitate as she chooses sweet and savory delicacies for me.

“Jesus, I don’t know if I can handle all this,” I chuckle when she hands me the plate filled with everything I could possibly want.

“You can. Trust me. And if you don’t, we can give you a box to take it with you.” She chuckles.

“Okay,” I finally agree.

“You’re Leonard’s friend, right?” she asks before I have the chance to turn around and sit at one of the small tables.

I’m surprised she remembers me. It’s been a while since I was here, and it was the only time. Leonard must be very close to them if she pays so much attention to the people around him.

“Yes. Do you mind if I ask you how you met him?” I give in to my curiosity. I know I shouldn’t pry, but, to be fair, she started this conversation.

She smiles fondly like it’s a memory she is glad to relive, like the expression you see on a sister or even a mother.

“He came here because he wanted to buy our shop. But we said no and offered instead for him to try our pastries. He’s been coming here regularly since then.”

“Really? He was trying to talk you down in price, wasn’t he?” I prod, though I’m not proud of it. But this is my only chance to understand him a bit more without asking him or Raphael. He’s so closed off that I’m sure he wouldn’t tell me something like this, even if I insisted.

The woman laughs and shakes her head. “No! On the contrary. He was very generous.” She must notice my confused face because she continues with the explanation. “He offered way more than what this place is worth, but we explained we were just too attached to it. We wouldn’t sell it for any price, even if we were drowning in debt. It’s a matter of feelings, not money.”

“And he gave up just like that?” I can hear the incredulity in my voice.

She chuckles. “You don’t know him very well if you think he just gives up. He paid off our debt, became a regular customer, and always pays for the homeless peoples’ meals.”

“It sounds like his stubbornness hit you full force,” I say.

She barks out a laugh. “You got that right.”

“Tell me about it,” I murmur, but she hears it and winks at me.

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