Page 27 of Claimed By My Exiled Alphas
I set the box in her trunk, arranging it carefully so the files wouldn’t spill. “So, bistro. What kind of food are you planning?”
“Farm-to-table seasonal menu, focused on local ingredients and traditional preparation methods.” Her voice changed when she talked about food, gaining confidence and warmth. “Comfort food elevated through technique and quality ingredients. The kind of place where people come for special occasions but don’t need a second mortgage to afford.”
“Hollow Haven could use something like that,” I said, and meant it.
“Exactly my thinking. There’s a gap in the market for approachable fine dining.” She pulled out her keys, then seemedto reconsider whatever she’d been about to say. “Do you have time now? To look at the space?”
The question sent unexpected heat through my chest. “Absolutely.”
She led me back to the front entrance, fumbling slightly with the sticky lock before pushing the door open. The interior was dim, afternoon light filtering through dusty windows to reveal a space that was actually in far better condition than the exterior had suggested.
“This was Micah’s original bakery,” Talia explained, flipping on the overhead lights. “Before he expanded into the bigger location last year. He’s been renting it out for storage, but most of the commercial kitchen equipment is still here.”
I moved deeper into the space, my assessment shifting rapidly as I took in the details. The front area was modest but well-proportioned, with original hardwood floors that needed refinishing but were structurally sound. Through an archway, I could see into the commercial kitchen, where stainless steel work surfaces and what looked like professional-grade appliances sat waiting under a layer of dust.
“This is much better than I expected,” I said, running my hand along one of the prep counters. The equipment was dated but maintained, the kind of setup that would cost tens of thousands to install from scratch. “The exterior made it look like the place was falling apart.”
“The building owner hasn’t kept up with maintenance,” Talia said, hovering near the kitchen entrance. “But Micah took good care of the interior when he was here. Most of the equipment still works, or at least it did when he moved out.”
I opened the industrial refrigerator, checking the seals and interior condition. “When was the last time this was serviced?”
“About six months ago, according to the records Micah left me.” She pulled out her phone, scrolling through what looked like maintenance logs. “He kept everything documented.”
“Smart.” I moved to examine the range and ovens, noting the commercial ventilation system overhead. “This hood and vent setup alone would cost twenty thousand to install new. If it’s still functional and passes inspection, you’ve just saved a fortune.”
Her face lit up with cautious hope. “So the contractor estimates might be too high?”
“Let me see them.”
She retrieved a folder from her car and handed it over. I flipped through the quotes, my irritation growing with each page. “These contractors are treating this like a complete gut renovation. They’re quoting you for all new kitchen equipment, full electrical upgrades, structural reinforcement you definitely don’t need.”
“But the building inspector said I needed permits for renovations.”
“You need permits for modifications and to bring certain systems up to current code for commercial food service,” I clarified, pulling out my phone to make notes. “But that’s very different from starting from scratch. This equipment just needs inspection and certification, not replacement. The electrical might need some upgrades to handle additional load, but the infrastructure is already commercial-grade.”
She moved closer, studying the estimates with new understanding. “So they were trying to overcharge me?”
“I’d say they were pricing for the project they wanted rather than the project you need.” I gestured around the kitchen. “This space was a functioning commercial bakery less than a year ago. Your primary expenses should be inspection fees, minor upgrades to meet health department requirements for your specific food service type, and cosmetic work in the dining area.”
“How minor are we talking?”
I walked through the kitchen systematically, cataloging what I saw. “The plumbing looks solid. You’ll want a licensed plumber to inspect and certify it, but I’m not seeing any obvious issues. Electrical should get a load analysis to make sure it can handle your equipment needs, might need a few additional circuits. The ventilation system needs professional cleaning and inspection, but the infrastructure is there.”
“And the dining area?”
We moved back into the front space. The walls needed fresh paint, the floors needed refinishing, and the front windows could use some attention, but these were cosmetic issues rather than structural problems.
“Paint, flooring, maybe some new light fixtures to brighten the space. You’ll need tables and chairs, obviously, but those are furnishings rather than construction costs.” I pulled up a calculator app. “Based on what I’m seeing, I’d estimate thirty to forty percent of what these contractors quoted. Maybe less if you’re willing to do some of the cosmetic work yourself.”
“Thirty percent?” Her voice had gone breathless. “That’s the difference between opening in six months and opening next month.”
The timeline surprised me. “You could be ready that quickly?”
“If the equipment is already here and functional, if I only need inspections and minor upgrades instead of full renovations.” She was looking around the space with new eyes, and I could see her mental calculations shifting from impossible to achievable. “I’d still need to hire licensed contractors for anything that requires permits, but the cosmetic work I could handle. I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty and doing some of the work myself.”
I found myself smiling at her enthusiasm. “Then let’s make sure we do this right. I can help you find inspectors who’ll give you honest assessments rather than trying to upsell youon unnecessary work. We’ll get the equipment certified, identify any real code compliance issues, and create a realistic timeline for opening.”
“Cassian.” She waited until I looked at her, and the intensity in her hazel eyes made my breath catch. “Why are you really doing this?”
