Chapter 166: Surprise, Surprise

NORA’S POV

Back in Suite 402, the afternoon passed in a peaceful blur.

Mom took a long, relaxing soak in the deep stone tub, while I unpacked our clean clothes. The official event packet had listed Saturday night’s Winter Gala as mandatory black tie, so Mom and I had packed our formal dresses in garment bags back in Oakhaven.

The thrill of surviving the preliminary cut was still buzzing through my veins, but my body welcomed the quiet break after four intense hours on our feet.

By six in the evening, Mom was sitting at the vanity in an elegant navy lace dress, clipping a pair of simple pearl earrings into her lobes.

"You look beautiful, Mom," I said, zipping the side of my fitted emerald-green evening dress. The velvet hugged my waist comfortably, falling in a clean, simple line to my heels.

"Not as beautiful as my daughter," Mom replied, turning with a proud, misty-eyed smile. "Look at you, Nora. You look like you belong in a magazine."

Before I could answer, a loud, energetic pounding rattled the suite door.

"Room service?" Mom asked, blinking in surprise.

"Bear wouldn’t knock that fast," I said, walking to the door.

I turned the brass latch and pulled the door open.

Standing in the hallway, holding a steaming cup of iced coffee in one hand and a black garment bag in the other, was Priya. She wore a stunning floor-length burgundy gown, her hair styled into elegant, glossy waves.

"Surprise, Bennett!" Priya squealed, throwing her free arm around my neck in a tight hug.

"Priya?" I gasped, stepping back in utter shock. "What are you doing here? How did you get to the mountain?"

"Did you honestly think I was going to let you face Boston high society without your best friend?" Priya asked, marching into the suite like she owned the place. She set her bag on the sofa and gave my mom a warm hug. "Good evening, Mrs. Bennett! You look gorgeous."

"Priya, dear! How on earth did you get in?" Mom asked, laughing in delight.

"Bear texted at one o’clock the second you made the final four," Priya explained with a proud grin. "He told me Sugar and Spice had five reserved seats at Table Six, which meant you had one empty guest ticket. I packed my dress, hopped on the two-fifteen resort express shuttle from the city, and here I am. Official guest of the finalists."

"You are incredible," I laughed, shaking my head in pure disbelief.

"I know," Priya said smoothly, pulling a lipstick from her clutch. "Now sit down in that chair. I have ten minutes to fix your hair before the boys get here."

At ten minutes to seven, another knock sounded at the door.

Priya pulled the door open with a dramatic flourish.

Standing in the hallway were Knox and Bear.

My breath caught straight in my throat.

Bear looked sharp and dignified in a classic black tuxedo, his massive frame looking surprisingly tailored and neat. But Knox completely stole the air from the room.

He wore a custom midnight-black tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders and narrow waist like a glove. His white shirt was buttoned to the collar with a silk bow tie, his dark curls brushed back neatly from his forehead. He looked powerful, wealthy, and breathtakingly handsome.

When Knox’s eyes found mine, he froze in the doorway.

His gaze swept slowly over my emerald dress, his eyes darkening with an intensity that sent a shiver of heat straight down my spine.

"Close your mouth, Sheridan," Bear whispered loudly, nudging him with an elbow. "You’re drooling on the carpet."

Knox ignored him completely. He stepped into the suite, his eyes never leaving my face. "You look... stunning, Bookworm," he murmured.

"You don’t clean up too bad yourself, Captain," I replied, a soft blush warming my cheeks.

Knox reached out, taking my hand and lifting it to his lips. He pressed a warm, lingering kiss against my knuckles, his eyes burning into mine with open devotion.

"Mrs. Bennett," Bear boomed, stepping forward and gallantly offering his elbow to my mother. "May I have the honor of escorting the finest baker in the country down to the ballroom?"

Mom beamed, taking his arm with a delighted chuckle. "Why, thank you, Bear. You are a true gentleman."

We took the elevator down to the terrace level, following the sound of live jazz music down the grand stone corridor.

The Grand Ballroom was a sea of glittering luxury.

Huge crystal chandeliers hung above, casting warm golden light over hundreds of round tables covered in white silk. Massive ice sculptures shaped like pine trees and eagles stood near the champagne bars.

Waiters in white vests carried silver trays of appetizers through the crowd of wealthy donors, food critics, and resort bosses dressed in formal wear.

Knox kept his hand firmly on the small of my back, guiding our group through the bustling crowd toward the front row of the room.

Table Six was set with fine china and silver place cards bearing our entry name.

Across the room at Table One, Marcel Moreau was holding court with a group of Boston socialites. When his eyes caught ours, his thin lips tightened, but he quickly looked away, clearly remembering Knox’s warning from yesterday.

"Look at this place," Priya whispered, sliding into her seat beside me. "I feel like we just walked into a movie."

A waiter filled our crystal flutes with sparkling cider and vintage champagne.

Knox lifted his glass, looking around our table... at Mom, at Bear, at Priya, and finally at me.

"To Sugar and Spice," Knox said quietly enough for just our table. "To thirty years of honest baking, and to the team that made the top four."

"To Sugar and Spice!" we toasted, clinking our glasses together.

At quarter to eight, the ballroom lights dimmed slightly.

A spotlight snapped onto the raised mahogany stage at the front of the room. The master of ceremonies, an older man in a white dinner jacket, stepped up to the gold microphone.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Fourteenth Annual Emerald Pines Winter Gala!"

Thunderous applause echoed across the ballroom.

"Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock," the announcer continued, "our four incredible finalists will enter the Grand Alpine Hall for the ultimate test: the Grand Finale Showpiece Challenge, where one bakery will walk away with the fifty-thousand-dollar grand prize and the Golden Hearth Trophy!"

The room cheered enthusiastically.

"To ensure our final judging represents both culinary excellence and the generous heritage of our community," the announcer smiled, "the Tri-County Culinary Board has added a distinguished guest judge to tomorrow’s panel."

Beside me, Knox’s posture shifted, his shoulders squaring slightly.

"Representing our premier corporate benefactor, The Orwell Foundation," the announcer declared into the microphone, "and serving as our reigning Emerald Pines Winter Ambassador... please give a warm welcome to Miss Vanessa Orwell!"

The spotlight swung to the stage stairs.

A tall, polished woman stepped out under the blinding white lights.

Vanessa wore a shimmering silver designer gown that clung to her figure, her blonde hair styled into a flawless updo. In her manicured hand, she held an official digital scoring tablet.

As the applause rolled through the room, Vanessa stepped to the front of the stage. Her cool gaze swept across the banquet tables, bypassing the crowd until her eyes locked dead onto Table Six.

A slow, venomous smirk curled her painted lips.

Under the table, Knox’s hand found mine, his fingers gripping mine tightly.

"You have got to be kidding me," I whispered.