Sweet On You

chapter Sixteen



Tying the last ribbon on the last present, Daniela sat crossed-legged on the living room floor and looked at her handiwork with satisfaction. The pile of brightly wrapped boxes was impressive. She figured she'd gone a little overboard, buying things for her homeless family. But most of the items were useful—underwear and warm layers. The only frivolous items were a doll and a football. She hadn't been able to help herself.

She couldn't wait to deliver everything. If only she could be there to watch them open the presents.

Her phone rang. That was all it ever did these days. It seemed like she was constantly answering someone's call.

Who would it be this time? Sophie Martineau again, begging her for a birthday cake? Her brother? Someone else wanting a piece of her? Dispassionately, she glanced at the screen.

Ken, her real estate person. Perking up, she answered. "Tell me my contract is in the mail."

"That's exactly why I'm calling." He paused.

His silence didn't bode well. "What happened?"

"There's a hold up on the other end. I'm trying to unravel what's taking so long."

"There's no problem, is there?"

"No. Ludlow's real estate agent hasn't returned my calls. He's probably out of town. He's an avid skier. He has a ski house in Tahoe, and he goes up there as often as he can."

"You don't sound certain," she said, standing up. "I can hear the doubt in your voice."

"Any delay bothers me, but especially in this case, since Cruz Enterprises expressed such a strong desire for the Harrison building as well."

"Don't worry about Cruz Enterprises." Nico could desire the building all he wanted, but she'd gotten Chris Ludlow's word, and she knew the man would honor it. His wife wouldn't let him live it down, otherwise.

"I don't know how you can be so sure," Ken was saying, "but I'll trust you."

"Just work on getting the paperwork finalized," she told him.

"Will do. I'll hopefully call you with good news soon."

"Thanks, Ken." As she hung up another call came in—Tony.

She did not want to talk to her brother. Except in ending the call with Ken and trying to ignore Tony, she pressed the wrong button and accepted his call.

Damn it. She glared at his cocky smile on her screen and put the phone to her ear. "I don't want to talk to you."

"That's too bad, because you have to."

Her hackles rose. "I don't have to do anything," she retorted, knowing she sounded like herself at twelve and not caring.

"Stop acting like a child and listen, Daniela. We have business to discuss."

"No."

He heaved a sighed. Then, in a pseudo-calm voice, he said, "I know you were overworked, but you've had several weeks of downtime to recuperate. It's time to get back into the game."

"It's Christmastime," she pointed out archly.

"So?"

She held the phone out and gaped at it. Then she returned it to her ear. "Who are you? Did you hear what you just said? I never work at Christmas."

"You did last year."

Last year she'd needed to work. Nonna had just died, and she'd been brokenhearted. It made her furious—and sad—that her brother didn't get that.

"And there's no reason not to work this year," he continued, oblivious. "You don't have any other plans."

"How would you know?"

"Do you?" he asked with exaggerated patience.

"I have tons of plans." She narrowed her eyes. "In fact, I'm buying a building."

"What building? To do what?"

"To open a soup kitchen."

"What?"

"And a homeless shelter," she added with grim delight.

"The hell you are."

"Oh, I really am, Antonio. I've got it all outlined. I'm going to offer housing and food, and even cooking classes," she added, proud. "To help people find a vocation and get back on their feet."

"You're insane." There was a scuffle of noise on the other end. "You aren't the type of person to direct this sort of operation. It requires organization and business skills."

"So?"

"So, you bake cookies."

She gasped. "You bastard."

"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it. You're excellent at what you do, and what you do is baking. You don't know the first thing about running a charity. For instance, how are you fundraising?"

"I'm not." She lifted her chin defiantly, even though he wasn't there to see it. "I have plenty of money on my own."

"See? That's what I'm talking about. That's just foolish." He paused and took a deep breath, as though trying to calm himself. "Listen to me, Daniela, starting a soup kitchen is the last thing you should be doing. You just don't have the skills."

She hung up, feeling her blood boiling in her veins. She began to pace, but it didn't help so she picked up a vase from the mantle and heaved it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into a shower of tiny shards.

Marley rushed into the living room, out of breath and looking uncharacteristically disheveled. "What happened?"

"It slipped." Daniela shrugged. "At least it was empty."

"Hmm." Her assistant frowned at the mess on the floor. "I hope it's not me you're angry at."

"No, and I'm no longer angry at anyone." She flashed a grim smile. "I just needed to express."

Marley watched her cautiously. "Have you expressed it all out of your system, or do I need to be prepared to duck?"

"It's always good to be prepared." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and went to do that herself. She'd show Tony. She'd show everyone. She could accomplish anything she set her mind to doing—and that included outbidding a real estate mogul.