Chapter 2

Two

T he first two weeks of Daphne’s Delights were a tremendous success.

Every day she sold out and went home with more requests for the next day. Plus, she was already getting special orders!

Was she exhausted? Yes.

Did she sleep most of the weekend? Yes.

Was she psyched to do it all again on Tuesday? Absolutely.

The only negative thing—if she had to find one—was her interaction with that jerk, Grinchy Grincherson.

“I should probably ask around and find out his name,” she murmured as she pulled a tray of blueberry muffins from the oven. She had spoken to Ann, Marcie, and Kaitlyn and none of them had anyone threaten them. Hell, everyone had been super nice to them, and they’d had zero drama.

Which left Daphne with a bit of a complex. Like she had an almost daily obsession over what she had done to offend this guy.

Although, to be fair, he just seemed like the kind of person who was majorly uptight and easily offended. She was curious as hell about where he worked and what he did for a living. But basically, the dislike was mutual.

“Hopefully he doesn’t work with the public,” she said, placing a tray of banana nut muffins in the oven. “That guy should definitely work alone.”

After his little tirade, she had considered calling Sara and seeing if she had any pull with the landlord—because two could play at this game—but ultimately she decided to be the bigger person. And it was a good thing she hadn’t been impulsive because she hadn’t seen the guy since.

Something for which she was eternally grateful.

When Tuesday morning arrived, she loaded up her van and arrived at the office building at six-thirty. Most of the employees didn’t start arriving until seven-thirty, so it gave Daphne an hour to get set up and just sort of ease into the day. The morning security guard greeted her with a smile, and she offered him his choice of muffins. It was the perfect way to start the day and as she set up her displays and got everything situated, she quietly hummed to herself. There were several orders for pies that she had stacked to the side, and she made a mental note to herself to look at adding a few more shelves before Thanksgiving.

There was a knock on the counter, and she turned to see a rather frazzled looking older woman standing there. She’d been purchasing from her almost daily, but they’d never formally introduced themselves and she had never looked this distraught. “Hello? I’m so sorry to bother you, but are you open yet?”

Adjusting her apron, Daphne nodded and stepped forward. “Hey, good morning! I’m Daphne and I am definitely open! What can I do for you?”

“I’m Faye, and hopefully you’re going to save my behind!” the woman said breathlessly.

“O-kay…”

“My boss has a meeting with some new clients this morning and he just let me know about it. He wanted me to stop and pick up refreshments, but I didn’t see that part of the text until I was walking into the building. Any chance you can bring up a variety of muffins at nine? I’ll pay extra. I know you don’t normally deliver, but I won’t be able to get back down here and…” She let out a long breath. “I can handle the coffee and tea part of it because we have a coffee bar in the office, but the food is just not something I can swing this morning.”

Holding up a hand to stop her, Daphne nodded. “It’s fine. I can totally do that. Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “Tell me what floor and office number and I’ll be up there at nine.”

“Oh, thank you so much! You’re literally saving my job. The boss hates when things don’t go exactly as he plans.” Pulling out her credit card, she handed it to Daphne. “And we’re not fussy about the flavors. I’m sure whatever you choose will be delicious.” Then she glanced at the display. “And can I possibly get one of the pumpkin cheesecake bars now and a piece of the crumb cake?”

“Of course.” Daphne quickly wrapped them up for her and rang them up, along with the muffin order. Handing Faye a sheet of paper, she said, “Just write down where I’m delivering to and we’ll be all set.”

“Thank you again. We have a few of these meetings over the next two weeks, so maybe we can make this a standing order?”

It was the kind of thing she had been hoping for—the more extra orders she got, the better. “We can talk about it when I bring things up later.”

“Perfect! And again, you’re a lifesaver!” Picking up her order, Faye smiled, looking far more relaxed than she did five minutes ago. “Twenty-eighth floor. Knight Architects. We’re the only ones on that floor.”

“Then finding you should be easy!” she joked. “See you at nine!”

As soon as Faye walked away, Daphne quickly pulled out her phone and texted her mom.

Daphne: Hey! Any chance you can come down and cover for me for a little while?

Mom: Sure! What time?

Mom: Is everything okay?

Daphne: Everything’s great! Have to deliver an order to the 28th floor and they might want to make it a weekly thing!

Mom: That’s wonderful!!

Daphne: I know! This is the kind of thing I’ve been hoping for, so I want to make a good impression and not just run in and run out.

Mom: Don’t worry. You always make a great impression.

Daphne: Thanks, Mom! Can you be here at 8:30?

Mom: Will do! See you then!

As soon as she put her phone down, people were starting to enter the building. She was the only vendor here that early—the others didn’t come in until after ten, but they stayed later than her as well. The line of customers was steady and before she knew it, her mother was stepping into the booth and putting her apron on.

“There’s my favorite baker girl!” she said before kissing Daphne on the cheek. “Okay, what do you need me to do?”

“Hey, Mom! If you could take over the counter for me, I’m going to pack up the order.”

“You got it!”

Daphne moved to the back of her space and considered her options as she assembled one of her bakery boxes. “Okay, let’s do two blueberry, two cranberry, two banana nut, two chocolate chip, and two apple cinnamon.” Looking at her inventory, she chose the “prettiest” muffins in each flavor because she wanted to make a good impression. Once they were boxed up, she decided to add a small box of cookies too, as a thank you to Faye for the opportunity. When everything was packed and she tied the baker’s string around the boxes, she pulled out her purse. “Mom? I’m going to make a quick run to the ladies’ room to freshen up. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Take your time, Daph!”

Quickly, she hustled across the lobby and dashed into the restroom. Checking her reflection, she smoothed her ponytail, adjusted her sparkly pink headband—the same hot pink as her apron—and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. Then she let out a long breath. “You’ve got this,” she whispered. “They’re going to love the muffins and even if this doesn’t become a weekly gig, they’re still going to enjoy what you baked.” Another long breath. “And bring some business cards in case the clients enjoy the food and want to order for themselves.”

When she walked back across the lobby five minutes later, she felt only slightly more confident. The line was gone from the front of her booth and her mother was wiping down the counter.

“Everything going okay?” she asked.

“All good! I just sold the last banana nut muffin. I marked your inventory sheet so you know that for later.”

“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.” Picking up a small stack of her business cards, she slid them into her apron pocket before grabbing the boxes. “Okay, wish me luck!”

“Good luck! And don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control here!”

Boxes in hand, Daphne carefully made her way out of the booth and started heading for the elevators. She pushed the up button and felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. If Knight Architects took up the entire top floor, they had to be impressive. Getting them as a client could be very good for her little business.

The doors opened and she stepped into the elevator. Turning, she hit the twenty-eight button and sighed happily as the doors slid closed.

Here we go…

Only…they slid back open, and an arm covered in navy blue wool wedged in.

No!

She had to stifle a growl of frustration when Grinchy Grincherson himself stepped in. He barely acknowledged her presence before hitting the twenty-eight button too.

Then he turned to her, looking mildly horrified. “You’re going up to twenty-eight?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“Um…” Holding up the boxes, she let them speak for themselves.

“I’ll just take them,” he said, reaching for them. “You don’t need to go up to the office.”

But Daphne took offense to that. “That’s okay. I promised Faye I’d deliver them, and, not for nothing, I don’t trust you.”

His eyes went almost comically wide. “Seriously? You don’t trust me ?”

Nodding, she held firm to the boxes. “That’s right, I don’t. You don’t like me or my business. Who’s to say you won’t throw these out before Faye gets them and make me look like I’m irresponsible? So…no thank you. I’m delivering them.”

“This is ridiculous,” he murmured before hitting the button for the tenth floor—which they were almost at. “It’s absurd for you to bring them up when that’s where I’m going. So…” he hit the button again and then the one for the lobby. “I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than delivering cake. After all, who’s watching the gingerbread house, Hansel and Gretel?”

Then, surprisingly, he laughed.

“My mother is watching the booth, so it’s fine.” The doors slid open, but she refused to move. He took a step toward her, and she contemplated screaming so someone would come and throw him off the elevator so she could ride up to the top floor in peace.

When the doors closed, he cursed. “Look, what is your deal, huh? Why are you making things so difficult?”

“I’m not making anything difficult. You are. I don’t see why you feel so strongly about my not going to the top floor,” she countered. “Although, I still believe it’s so you can sabotage this order and smear my reputation and get me thrown out of the building.”

“I knew I should have called the landlord…”

“But you didn’t, so…deal with it.” She paused. “All I’m trying to do is spread a little joy. That’s all. Every day that I’m here, I greet people with a smile, serve them some yummy food, and wish them a great day. It’s called being nice. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

And she hit the twenty-eight again for emphasis. Then he hit the fifteen. Daphne went to hit the button again at the same time he reached for the panel and it became a juvenile game of hitting too many buttons when…

The elevator came to a jarring halt.

“Oh!” The boxes nearly slid from her hands, but she held them tightly as she braced herself against the wall. “What happened?”

He didn’t look the least bit fazed. “You hit too many buttons. It’ll start again in a minute.”

“ I pushed too many buttons? I hit the same button,” she argued. “You’re the one who kept hitting random buttons. This is your fault.” Sure, she sounded fine, but her heart was racing, and she was starting to tremble. Small, enclosed spaces were not her favorite and she was beginning to panic that the elevator wasn’t going to start moving fast enough.

“Maybe you can use your joyful powers to get us out of here, Mary Poppins. I mean, according to you, yummy snacks and a smile are the answer to everything. Maybe whistle and some forest animals will come and save us.”

If she wasn’t internally freaking out, she’d be sorely tempted to seriously unleash on this guy, but that wasn’t who she was.

“Think what you want,” she said instead. “I may not be able to get this elevator moving, but I can guarantee that more people appreciate me treating them kindly than you being such a negative…jerk.”

Okay, so maybe she would unleash a little.

“Did you just call me a jerk? What are you, twelve?”

“Did you just mockingly call me Mary Poppins?” she asked sarcastically. Glancing at her smartwatch, she shook her head. “Why aren’t we moving yet? Can we call someone?”

Stepping in front of her, he pushed the help button on the panel.

“We see that you’re stuck between the twentieth and twenty-first floors,” someone said. “Are you okay?”

“This is Tristan Knight of Knight Architects,” he said calmly. “There are two of us in here and we’re fine, but do you know how long this will take?”

“It should only be a couple of minutes, Mr. Knight. Did someone lean against the panel?”

He gave her a challenging look, but ultimately replied, “There was some confusion on what floor to go to. We apologize.”

“No worries, sir. We should have you moving soon.”

“Thank you.” His smile was smug when he glanced at her. “Happy?”

As crazy as it seemed, his snarky attitude was a great distraction for her anxiety. “Soon is a little vague, but…” Shrugging casually, Daphne silently prayed that soon actually meant soon because not only did she hate being stuck in such a small space, but she also hated being stuck with Grinchy…um…Tristan Knight even more.

After that, he didn’t even try to engage in conversation with her. Pulling out his phone, he called his office. “Faye,” he began firmly. “I’m on my way up, but I’m stuck in the elevator.” He paused. “Somewhere around the twentieth floor.” Another pause that had him looking at her. “Yeah, she’s in here too, and believe me, you and I are going to have a discussion about it.”

Daphne didn’t even try to hide her eye roll.

But as she wiped the sweat from her forehead, she began to silently pray she didn’t embarrass herself in front of him or worse, beg him to talk to her just for the sake of her sanity.

Fortunately, she was saved from having to say anything when the elevator moved. She let out a slow sigh of relief and when the doors opened on the twenty-eighth floor, she stepped out with her head held high and walked directly over to Faye’s desk.

“Oh, Daphne! I’m so sorry about the elevator! Are you okay?”

Honestly? No, but she kept that to herself. “I’m fine. Really. It wasn’t that long.” Placing the boxes on the desk, she smiled. “I added a few extra goodies for you, and here are some of my business cards.”

“Thank you again and I’m sorry for all the trouble this obviously caused.” Faye shot a look at Tristan before smiling at Daphne. “I know everyone’s going to love the muffins, and I’m going to stop by later on and place an order for some stuff for the weekend. We’ll set up the standing order then too, if that’s okay.”

“That sounds perfect, and I’ll see you then! In the meantime, have a fabulous day and enjoy!”

Tristan was standing to the side doing his best to look intimidating, but neither woman paid him any attention.

At least, not until Daphne walked past him on her way back to the elevator. “And I hope you have a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious day!”

She giggled all the way down to the lobby.

For three days he’d had that damn Mary Poppins song in his head while fighting the urge to send Faye down to the lobby for more muffins.

But he refused to show weakness. The woman was a menace, and her perpetual cheeriness was annoying, so there was no way he was going to support keeping her in the building. Every morning, he walked by her ridiculous gingerbread house without looking at it and did the same when he left in the evening. Oh, he knew Faye was ordering stuff from her and so were half the people in his office, but Tristan refused to do the same.

No matter how much he craved a blueberry muffin.

On Saturday, his family was meeting for dinner at his parents’ house. It was something they did once a month, and he always looked forward to it. With the holidays right around the corner, he knew his mother was going to want to discuss all the parties she was planning on hosting and which events she expected everyone to be at. Most of the time, he didn’t mind honoring her requests. The parties were always fun and festive and were a great way for him to network, as well.

This year, however, he just wasn’t feeling the holiday spirit. Of course it all had to do with one project—one proposal—that was taking up far too much space in his head. If he could just stop obsessing about it and simply forget about it until January, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d get through the next six weeks just fine.

“But no, I just can’t let this one little thing go,” he murmured as he pulled up to his parents’ home in Chapel Hill. He’d grown up in this house and it always made him happy to come and visit, especially when his brothers and their families were there too. Tristan was the youngest and the only one who was single. Still, he enjoyed being the fun uncle and spending time with his nieces and nephews when he wasn’t discussing design ideas with his father and brothers.

Or complaining about how the city was messing with his proposals and timelines.

Knowing his mother would sense his foul mood immediately, he forced himself to relax, smile, and focus on an enjoyable family dinner.

Midway through the meal, his parents dropped a bombshell.

“Your grandmother needs to move into an assisted living facility,” his mother began, her voice trembling slightly. “Your father and I need to go and help her pack up the house and get it on the market.” She let out a soft sigh. “It’s going to be a major change for her, and I’m afraid that I’m going to require a lot of help from all of you throughout the holidays.”

Everyone was already offering to help in whatever way they could—Tristan included—but they thought they were offering to assist with their grandmother.

That wasn’t the case.

“I love your enthusiasm and your willingness to help,” she gushed excitedly. “I had already put our party plans in motion, so you’ll all be taking over hosting responsibilities.”

“Um…what?” Tristan asked. “Hosting?”

“Tristan, you live the closest, so there are four parties you’ll need to host. Some of them will need to be at your place,” she added before smiling at his brother, Alan. “Alan, I know you and Suzie always host at least one party, but I’d like to ask if you can handle two more? One of them will be here at the house, and the other will be at the country club.”

“Wait, why does Alan get to host here and the country club while I’m using my house?” Tristan asked in confusion.

“Tristan, sweetheart, they’re going to be coming all the way from Charlotte. It just makes sense. You live locally and your home is lovely. Besides, it’s only two parties at your home. The others will be in your office and your father’s.”

He felt his left eye begin to twitch.

“Um…”

“Tristan,” his father began. “You always have an office Christmas party. Usually your mother handles things, but this year you’ll have to take on a few more responsibilities. You’ll be co-hosting my office party as well. As for the other two parties, one is for our biggest clients…”

“Think of it as an intimate cocktail party,” his mother clarified.

“And the other,” his father went on, “will be for family. It’s actually the first party you’ll be hosting, but it’s really more like a kick off to the holidays. It’ll be fun!”

“Um, yeah. No. I don’t host parties,” he said slowly. “I’ve never been the one to host and now I’m supposed to host four of them? And why do we need a family party? Isn’t that what this is?”

“Oh, sweetie, no,” his mother said, reaching over and patting his hand. “You’re getting upset for no reason. I have all the dates scheduled for you, and no one’s asking you to throw some big, posh event. What I’m thinking is something like a dessert social!” She smiled. “Maybe you could ask the girl you’re dating to be your hostess!”

Girl I’m dating?

“I’m not…” Pausing, he cleared his throat. “I’m not dating anyone at the moment, and if I was, asking her to co-host with me would imply a level of commitment that I wouldn’t be comfortable with.”

But his mother wasn’t listening. “I was talking to Faye yesterday and she mentioned the baker who has that little holiday shop in the lobby of your building. Actually, she was gushing over her! So I told her to set up an appointment for you with…oh, what’s her name…Daphne! Yes, Daphne! Lovely name. Anyway, I believe Faye made arrangements for you to meet with Daphne on Tuesday.”

His head was ready to explode while his mother smiled serenely.

Rather than start an argument, he offered a potential—and different—solution.

“Okay, but…why don’t we just do fewer parties this year?” he asked. “People would understand. We’re a family-run business and there’s a delicate family situation we’re dealing with, so…”

“You worry too much, Tristan,” she said patiently. “And I’ve scaled back on how lavish the parties have to be. That’s why I want you to just do dessert cocktail parties. I think they are a great idea and easy to do, and with this fabulous little bake shop right in the building, it’s very convenient. I’m sure if you just sit down with the owner, she’ll be thrilled to work with you.”

That wasn’t going to happen, but he wasn’t going to get into it right now. Instead, he smiled and nodded as he grabbed his wineglass and drank every last drop.

And then poured himself more.

“What about us?” his middle brother, Jacob, asked. “You know you can count on me and Rachel to host whatever you need.”

Kiss ass.

Tuning everything out, Tristan sat back and tried to think of how he was supposed to make all of these events happen.

And how he was going to need a new assistant because clearly Faye was doing her best to aggravate him.

No, she’s trying to piss me off…

“Maybe we should wait to move Grandma until after the holidays,” he blurted out and was met with wide-eyed silence. “I’m just saying, no one’s buying houses during the months of November and December, and wouldn’t it be nice for her to have one last Christmas in her own home?”

“That’s incredibly sweet of you to think of that,” his mother said with a sad smile, “but this was actually her idea. Your grandmother doesn’t feel up to one more season of decorating and being in the house. We all know she’s always welcome here with us or with any of her children or grandchildren, but she’s made up her mind and all we can do is support her.”

And that effectively put an end to Tristan attempting to get out of hosting anything.

But that didn’t mean he had to hire Daphne. There were plenty of bakers in Raleigh; surely one of them could meet all the requirements.

Even if he didn’t know what exactly they were, except that they weren’t Daphne.

All he knew was that come Monday morning, he was going to call every bakery in a fifty-mile radius and find the perfect one to cater these parties.

How hard could it be?

By Monday afternoon, he had his answer.

Very.

It was impossible to find a bakery to meet all the criteria his mother had set.

Raking both hands through his dark hair, Tristan let out a long breath before turning his chair so he could look out the window. How was it possible that he couldn’t find one reputable baker in a city of a half a million people? It defied reason!

“Hey, boss!” Faye said as she came into his office and put the mail down on his desk. She hadn’t mentioned anything about an appointment with Daphne and, as much as he knew he should be thankful, his curiosity got the better of him.

“I hear you set up an appointment for me and the lobby baker,” he said, sounding just shy of being hostile.

Smiling, she shook her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that to Daphne. Your mother asked me to do it, but…” She shrugged. “I knew you’d freak out and, like I said, I just refuse to do that to such a sweet girl.”

“What does…?”

“These are the physical contracts for the Blackstone building,” she went on. “There’s a cover letter stating that they purchased the adjacent property and want to schedule a time to talk to you about designing a structure for it as well.” Smiling, she stepped back. “Can I get you anything?”

“Yeah, how about an explanation?”

“Meaning…?”

Tristan’s gaze narrowed. “You know exactly what I mean. What is it exactly that you won’t do to Daphne?”

“Ask her to work for you.” She paused. “Or to come up here for a meeting with you. After the way you behaved last week…” Making a tsking sound, she shook her head. “I’ve never seen you behave so poorly. Of course, I should have just been honest with your mother and told her it wouldn’t be possible to have you and Daphne work together, but…you know…that would have been awkward.”

“Okay, but…”

“And I knew you’d just call another bakery and have them do the parties, so no need to get Daphne’s hopes up. She already works so hard—she has another job beside the bakery. I just thought it would be wrong to make her think that maybe she wouldn’t have to work so hard.” Another shrug. “So? Who did you hire?”

For a moment, he didn’t want to respond.

“You did hire someone, didn’t you? I know you, Tristan, and I heard you on the phone all morning asking cake questions. Who did you end up going with?”

“Um…no one,” he murmured.

“Mm-hmm…”

“Oh, don’t do that,” he said wearily.

“Do what? All I said was mm-hmm. ”

“It was the tone,” he argued. “And you know exactly what that meant.”

And yet another shrug.

“Dammit, Faye!”

She moved in close to the desk and leaned down as if trying to intimidate him. “You need to go down to the lobby first thing tomorrow morning and apologize to Daphne and beg her to help you. If you let your poor mother down, it will devastate her. And with everything going on with your grandmother…”

“Wait, how do you know about that?”

“Your mother and I talk at least three times a week. I know all the family news.” Straightening, she smiled sweetly. “I think Alan and Suzie are going to do a wonderful job with the country club event, don’t you?”

“I’m not going to apologize to that woman,” he stated firmly. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I think those booths are an eyesore and she picked a fight with me for no reason. All I tried to do was help her by volunteering to bring the muffins up here so she wouldn’t have to be away from her gingerbread house.”

Faye didn’t even blink as she simply stared at him.

“It was the logical thing to do. I was already heading up here and the muffins were for my meeting.”

More staring.

“Okay, fine. I was going to get off on the twenty-seventh floor and throw them out and then come up here and remind you of how I didn’t want to support her business! She knew I was up to something, but she was still unreasonable, and I’m not hiring her!” He was breathless by the time he was done, but he didn’t care.

“That’s your prerogative, Tristan. I’m sure you can reach out to the local grocery stores and see if their bakery departments can help you.”

Dammit.

“Or maybe you can bake some cookies yourself? That would be fun!”

They each grew quiet until it got awkward.

“I just don’t understand what you have against the vendors,” Faye said with exasperation. “They’ve been doing this sort of thing for three years, Tristan! Everyone in the building enjoys having them here. No one’s asking you to gush over them or spend all your money on them, but you really need to grow up and stop acting like a brat.”

“Now I’m a brat? Seriously?”

“Yes, you are. If Daphne or any of those ladies were mean or unpleasant, I could understand. But they’re not. If anything, Daphne’s the friendliest person I’ve ever met.”

“And you don’t think that’s strange? I mean, why is she so damn happy? You say she works two jobs, so what’s she so happy about? Most people hate having one job, let alone two!”

“Tristan…”

“It has to be an act,” he concluded. “No one’s that happy all the time. It’s not possible.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Maybe she is a little overly cheery, but that’s the way it is in retail. Are you going to sit here and tell me you’ve never schmoozed with a client or praised them, hoping to gain an account?”

“I have, but…”

“Then you should know that it’s the same for everyone in business. It goes with the territory.” She studied him for another moment. “You and your whole family normally embrace the holidays. Why are you so grumpy this year?”

“Because nothing’s going right!” he snapped without thinking.

Faye’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, Tristan, that’s not true. Business is thriving. We’ve had our best year since you opened this office. Why would you even think that nothing’s going right?”

“Faye, you know better than anyone what I’m working toward.”

“A building here in downtown Raleigh. You want to design one that will be part of the skyline here.”

“Exactly. And the city isn’t going to look at any proposals until after the new year. That puts everything behind. Again. There’s no guarantee they’ll approve it or that the client won’t opt to build somewhere else. Again. And I just feel like…like it’s never going to happen.”

He hated to admit any of this. Hearing the words out loud just…they hit harder and made him realize just how much pressure he’d been putting on himself.

And how long he’d been working toward a goal that may never be achieved.

“Doesn’t it feel better to get that out instead of keeping it all bottled up? Maybe you’re being a little hard on these vendors because you’re angry with yourself?”

“Faye, please don’t psychoanalyze me.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tristan closed his eyes and silently counted to ten before looking at her again. “I’m allowed to think the booths are eyesores. I’m allowed to think they shouldn’t be in the building. And I’m allowed to not be friends with the vendors.”

“Fair enough. But you need one of them,” she said slowly. “Daphne, quite literally, is your only hope. I can almost guarantee that she’ll be available to cater these parties.” She paused. “As long as you apologize.”

“That’s never going to happen.”

With a dramatic sigh, she turned and walked out of the office. “Suit yourself. I hope your mother understands.”

As soon as the door shut, he knew he was screwed.

He also knew he was going to have to figure out how to make things right with Daphne, no matter how much he disliked her.

Unfortunately, he had a feeling the only way to get her to help him was to…

Grovel.

“Well, this sucks…”