Crumbling Cakes

Part XXVII (27)

Since the flaming turd balls of my past kept sullying his living room, I wanted to do something nice for Ronaldo. He's been using my sketches far more than he said he would, the sneaky sneak, and he seems to keep copies of them in a folder marked with my name.

Not so out of the ordinary, only this was in his private cabinet drawer. I'm a snooper now, if the judgey ones in the back need reminding. I was simply getting some requested info on a client for him, and then I accidentally found his drawer. Honest mistake really. I found it interesting that someone seems to like my drawings. Like them enough to squirrel them away like a pack rat.

It crossed my mind that Sweets might appreciate something that belongs only to him and I took the liberty of drawing out a few sketches in a panel style. It was inspired by his photo wall—two of him and his family, one of him and I that Blake had snapped at Fitzies, and the last was of him. He was making cake figurines for the children's hospital, another special request. They were the kiddo's favorite characters, to cheer them up since they would spend Thanksgiving at the hospital.

Now if that isn't enough to melt your heart, there is no saving your Grinchie ways. Ronnie might be a broody pain in the ass on days gone wrong, but it was a train I could get behind when he did things that were so thoughtful. Staring at him, it had been impossible not to sketch. I thought he would like it. That was if I could find him.

I knocked on Ronaldo's office door, getting no answer. Odd. I peeked in with no result. Before walking back to the kitchen I checked the laundry room and found nothing with a whole lot of washing machine banging. Near the bathroom, I ran into Heather.

"Hey, have you seen Sebastian?" She shook her head.

"No. Should be in his office."

"He's not there." I chewed on my lip, staring off at the clock. He wouldn't have just left. As we are now, Sweets always tells me if he's planning to head out.

She shrugged. "Maybe he's up front?"

I nodded quickly and walked away after a reassuring smile from his second in command. I hadn't even made it through the kitchen when I walked into Ola. "Ola, is Sebastian up front?"

"Sorry Dalia, I didn't see him." She passed me. Where is he? After hitting another dead end in the pantry, I ended up back near the hallway. Then like fucking Dracula, he materialized behind me, complete with incredible lip proximity to my neck—scaring the shit out of me in the process.

I jumped, "Jesus, Ronaldo." I massaged my chest. "Give a girl a heart attack why don't you."

He snickered. "Sorry, Pints." Was that a sniff?

My eyes narrowed to slits, soaking in his face over my shoulder. Finally rotating around to see him properly, I detected the start of a pout pulling on his lips as I moved away. "You don't look sorry."

"I promise I am." He rested a hand to his chest. I greedily watched how his fingers splayed on the firm planes. Lucky bitches.

I needed to snap out of it. Besides, I think we were gathering an audience. "Uh-huh. Where were you anyway?'

"Why, in my office." He sniffed. His hands rested on his hips, somehow I was even more envious—of his hands, hips, both? Who knew. All I knew is that the longer I stayed in his company, the more I wanted to rub myself all over him like a stray cat in heat.

"Lies. I was just there, you were not. What gives?" Tapping into my Jedi Mind tricks, I willed him to tell me. I got nada. Stupid fake Jedi Mind Tricks.

He scratched his neck, eyeballing me. "What did you need?"

"Um, can we go back to your office?"