In the heart of New York City, Sadira Kingston is the proud owner and head baker of "Sweets," a charming bakery renowned for its delectable treats and warm atmosphere. Her life takes an unexpected turn when Davis Maclean, a brooding lawyer with a re...
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Sadira sat at her desk in the back of the bakery, her fingers absently brushing the edge of the papers Davis had given her.
The usual hum of the shop filled the air—whispers of conversation, the clink of mugs, the rustling of pastry bags—but she couldn't focus on any of it. Her eyes traced the fine print in front of her, the words blurring into a jumbled mess.
It was supposed to be just another normal day, another round of customers asking for her famous chocolate mousse and delicate éclairs, but this wasn't normal. Nothing had been normal since Davis Maclean walked through her door.
She flipped the papers again, staring at the unfamiliar legal jargon. "Court appearance," "involvement," "incident." Her brow furrowed as she stopped on a name that sent a chill down her spine: Tariq St. Patrick.
It wasn't just that Davis had handed her papers linking her to a legal mess—this was the part that shook her.
Tariq. She knew that name. Everyone in the neighborhood did. He wasn't just any young man, but someone tied to a string of rumors, speculations, and whispers about drugs and death.
She'd heard about him from the streets, about how he was connected to a case involving a professor's murder, but she hadn't thought too much of it.
The streets had a way of making gossip sound more exciting than it was, but now here his name was, staring at her in black and white.
Her heart thudded in her chest, a sense of unease crawling up her spine.
Why the hell is my name tangled up with his? She couldn't figure it out, couldn't make sense of how her bakery—her safe space—had become the setting for something so dangerous.
The papers spoke of an incident outside her bakery just a few days ago, something she barely remembered. She hadn't paid much attention at the time. She was busy with customers, trying to make sure her shop ran smoothly while juggling her own personal life.
Now, as she sat there, the memory resurfaced—vague, but there.
Two men outside, talking in hushed voices, their hands moving quickly as if exchanging something. She hadn't thought anything of it at the time. The bakery sat on a busy street; people were always hanging around.
But now... now it seemed she should've been paying more attention.
She took a deep breath, the weight of the situation settling on her chest. It was an innocent mistake—just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the papers in her hands suggested otherwise.
There was mention of witnesses, of how the exchange that took place led to something bigger, more dangerous—a drug deal gone bad. And she, as the owner of the bakery, was somehow implicated.
She let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in her chair. This couldn't be happening. Her bakery was her life, the one thing she'd built from the ground up, a place that brought people joy and comfort.
Now, it was tainted by something out of her control. Her mind raced, trying to connect the dots. Why me? Why my shop?
And then there was Davis. Davis Maclean, the smooth-talking lawyer who had appeared out of nowhere, offering help when she didn't even realize she needed it.
He had handed her his card with that calm, assured look on his face, as if this was just another case for him, another day at work. But to her, it was everything. It was her livelihood, her reputation, and now it felt like her life was dangling by a thread. She was pulled into something she didn't understand, something bigger than her.
A part of her wondered why Davis was even here. Why was he so eager to help her? She wasn't anyone special—just a woman running a small bakery in the neighborhood.
And yet, he seemed... invested. It didn't make sense, and that's what unnerved her the most. There was something beneath the surface of his charm, something more complicated than what he was letting on.
Sadira tapped the papers on the edge of the desk, the sound sharp in the quiet room. She tried to keep her hands steady, but she couldn't shake the feeling that her world was about to implode.
What did this Tariq kid have to do with her? She hadn't been involved in any of this—hell, she didn't even know what had really happened outside her shop. But the papers said she had to appear in court, that her presence was necessary.
Her thoughts swirled with a mix of confusion and frustration. She felt like she was caught in a web she didn't even know existed, and now it was closing in on her. Her bakery, her safe haven, was at the center of it all.
The door chimed, snapping her back to the present. She looked up, trying to focus as another customer walked in.
Her heart was still racing, her mind still clouded by the paperwork, but she forced herself to push it all down. Just get through the day, deal with this later.
But how could she? The looming court date, the involvement with Tariq St. Patrick, and the eerie feeling that Davis wasn't just a lawyer trying to help—it was too much.
The thought of him lingered longer than she expected. His eyes, his careful words. It wasn't just professional... there was something else, something she couldn't place but couldn't shake either.
Sadira rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. The papers were still in front of her, a constant reminder that her life had been thrown off course. How had she ended up here? How had her simple bakery become a setting for a crime she had nothing to do with?
She didn't know, but she would have to find out. And soon. Before it was too late.
