Chapter 60: Saturday Sex

"Gladly." Adrian said.

"I mean..." She rubbed one hand over her forehead. "It’s just that we made this slight adjustment to the previous contract and, well... I just assumed that was what you were talking about." She groaned and covered her face. "Oh my God... I can’t believe I am so stupid. It’s just... it’s been on my mind all day. but you didn’t need to know that."

There was no recovering from this. She would have to move countries.

"Mrs Heathcliffe?" Adrian’s voice finally cut through Naomi’s increasingly unnecessary explanation.

She stopped talking. "Right. Sorry." She pressed her lips together, then failed to keep them that way for more than two seconds. "Dorian says I talk too much."

"I can see that."

"You know, you and your boss have far too much in common."

He glanced around the bakery. "Is there anywhere we can sit and do this properly?"

"God, yes. Please."

Anything that moved them away from the subject of Saturday sex was currently welcome. Naomi led him through the side passage into the small back office the bakery staff used for paperwork, stock records and the occasional desperate five-minute break. It wasn’t glamorous, but it had a desk, two chairs.

Adrian set his laptop on the desk and opened the draft. Once they got into the actual contract, Naomi relaxed.

This she understood.

They went through deposits, changes in guest numbers, ingredient costs and what happened if a client decided forty-eight hours before an event that they suddenly wanted an additional fifty guests and a completely different menu.

Adrian made another note. They worked through service charges, staffing costs and the deadline for final menu changes. Naomi asked questions whenever something sounded too legal, and Adrian translated without making her feel stupid, which she appreciated.

Eventually, the discussion moved to her food itself.

"There’s one more thing," Naomi said. "Some of what I cook is mine. My recipes." She reached for her phone. "But there are dishes and recipes I developed myself over the years, and if I’m going to start doing private events properly, I don’t want people assuming that because they paid me to cater one dinner, they suddenly own everything I created for it."

"That should be covered."

Naomi unlocked her phone. "I made a list." She found the document and handed the phone across the desk.

Adrian took it and began scrolling. "These are all original?"

"Recipes I significantly developed myself, yes. Some are things I’ve been refining for years."

He nodded, his attention moving down the list. "We can build language into your standard agreement making it clear that your proprietary recipes remain yours. A client is paying for the preparation and service of the food, not acquiring ownership of the recipe itself."

Naomi brightened. "Exactly."

Adrian continued scrolling through the dishes while explaining how they could distinguish between ordinary menu items and Chef Bennett recipes she wanted specifically protected.

For several minutes, everything was mercifully professional. Then Naomi’s phone vibrated in Adrian’s hand.

A notification dropped across the top of the screen. Adrian saw the sender first. The message was from Dorian.

And unfortunately, Adrian’s eyes registered the content.

I and my cock anticipate your plans.

Adrian’s eyes widened. He immediately stopped scrolling and turned the phone toward Naomi. "Uh, Mrs Heathcliffe, you have a message."

Naomi glanced casually at the screen. Her soul left her body. All morning she had waited for that man to send something better than Hmmm?

Then, at the exact moment his assistant had her unlocked phone in his hand, Dorian Heathcliffe suddenly discovered complete sentences.

Naomi groaned and dropped her forehead straight onto the desk.

"Trust me, Mrs Heathcliffe," Adrian said after a moment, and Naomi could hear the faint amusement he was trying very hard to hide, "it’s nice to know Mr Heathcliffe has a hidden side."

"Somebody please kill me now."

Adrian closed the document on his laptop. "I think I have enough to work with. I’ll make the final adjustments, send a reusable copy to your email for future clients and hand Miss Heathcliffe’s copy to Mr Heathcliffe."

Naomi nodded without taking her head off the table. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

She heard him begin gathering his things. He slipped the laptop into his bag. At the door, he paused.

"Have a good day, Mrs Heathcliffe."

Naomi waved him away without looking up. She stayed exactly where she was for another moment before slowly reaching for her phone. She considered calling Dorian to tell him he had the worst timing in the world.

But what would the fun in that be?

It would be far better to watch the color drain out of Dorian’s face live and direct at the townhouse that evening.

Naomi looked at his message once more.

I and my cock anticipate your plans.

A slow smile tugged at her mouth despite the humiliation Adrian had just witnessed. Lord, what a delicious cock.

Naomi shuddered before locking her phone. She got to her feet and headed back into the bakery, already looking forward to dinner for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with food.

Meanwhile, Adrian drove back to Heathcliffe & Associates with the satisfaction of a man who had accidentally stumbled onto gold.

He had worked for Dorian long enough to endure impossible deadlines, frighteningly early phone calls and the occasional instruction delivered as though weekends were a myth.

And now, finally, God had rewarded him. Adrian nearly laughed again at the traffic light. He knew he shouldn’t.

This was his employer’s private life, and professionally speaking, he had absolutely no business being entertained by it.

Personally speaking, however, he was practically vibrating with excitement. Adrian had never been so glad to accidentally read anything in his life.

By the time he arrived at the office, he had managed to rearrange his face into something appropriately professional.

He headed straight to his desk and opened the contract again. The Chef Bennett contract, specifically. He spent the next couple of hours refining the document. He tightened the language around deposits, cancellations and changes in guest numbers. He included provisions covering additional staffing and ingredient costs, then worked in the protections they had discussed for Naomi’s original recipes.

He also created a cleaner reusable template she could adapt for future private clients. Between edits, he answered calls, rearranged meetings and dealt with clients.

By late afternoon, the contract was done. Adrian emailed Naomi her copy, printed the hard copy for Genevieve Heathcliffe’s wedding and gathered the relevant notes.

Then he looked through the glass toward Dorian’s office. His boss was staring at his phone.

Again.

He had noticed it several times since returning from the bakery. Dorian would work for a while, pick up his phone, put it down, then repeat the entire process several minutes later.

For a man who frequently forgot his phone existed unless someone was calling about work, the behavior was suspicious.

Adrian picked up the printed contract. Were they still sexting?

He shook his head and walked across the office. "Mr Heathcliffe?"