Page 44 of Baran
Darien navigated his sleek black sedan through the city streets, the faint hum of the engine blending with the early morning bustle. He glanced over at Baran, tense in the passenger seat, before turning into the driveway of an upscale café.
Darien parked and led Baran inside, the two settling on a corner table by the window. The Turkish establishment had large glass windows reflecting the soft morning light. Inside, sleek marble tables and plush leather chairs created an atmosphere of understated luxury. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wafted through the air as the quiet clink of silverware and the murmur of conversations filled the space. “What are you going to order?”
“The turkey sausage skillet.”
“What’s in it?”
“Bell peppers, potatoes, and ground turkey sausage. It’s made with interesting spices in a skillet. It’s delicious.”
“Then I’ll have that too.”
A waiter approached swiftly, taking their orders of the turkey sausage breakfast skillet with Turkish tea.
As they waited for their food, Darien leaned back slightly in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on Baran. “Here’s the plan for today,” he began, his voice low but firm. “I need you to take care of something important at work. The shelter’s Christmas event iscoming up, and we need presents for the men. You’ll be in charge of buying them.”
“How will I shop without transportation?”
Darien pulled out his driver’s business card and handed it to Baran. “This is my driver, Eddy. Call him when you’re ready. He can also suggest stores to you.”
“Thanks.”
He pulled out a shiny black and gold credit card and slid it across the table. “Take this. Buy thoughtful gifts—things they’ll really appreciate. When you get back, Silas and Hawk will help you wrap them. But for the beginning of the day, I’ve got business to handle. You’re on your own until then.”
Baran nodded, his expression serious and distant as he pocketed the card. Their breakfast skillets arrived, golden and fragrant, with colorful peppers mixed in with the gold potatoes. Darien sipped his steaming tea, allowing a brief moment of quiet between them. He knew the task would keep Baran busy, and by the time he returned, the day would be well underway.
“Why don’t you have a limo drive you around the city?” Baran asked.
“I don’t waste my money on things I can do myself,” Darien said.
“But your home is enormous for just you and Miss Charlotte.”
“I inherited my home from my grandparents, and I’ll never sell it, so I live there.” Baran’s questions worried him. He acted like his stay was temporary. Changing the subject, he asked, “Would you like to come with me to Gingerbread Lane later?”
“What is it?”
“It’s the world’s largest gingerbread village, where everything is made of gingerbread. We can make a gingerbread house, decorate it together, then take it to the children at the placement center.”
“What is the placement center?”
“Children who have been removed from their home for various reasons. They’re awaiting placement for a group home, adoption, or a court hearing for a possible return to their parents.”
“That’s sad. I’ll go to help the kids.”
“There are over a thousand gingerbread structures to see there too.”
“How do you know about the place?”
“My grandparents took me there every year when I was a kid. I miss going.”
After they finished breakfast, Darien dropped him off at the shelter.
“If you run into any problems, call me. I’m never too busy for you.”
“I will.”
“Can I trust you’ll work today?”
“Yes, sir.”
