Chapter 32 The Ride To Industria District
Aria's POV
The bus ride back to the industrial district felt twice as long as the one that had taken me to Apex Corp. I sat in the back, leaning my forehead against the cold, vibrating window. The rain was coming down harder now, streaking the glass and making the city look like a blurred painting of gray and black.
"I don't sleep with virgins," I whispered to myself, mimicking his deep, arrogant voice. "Too much of a headache."
The words felt like a physical slap every time they replayed in my head. I got off at my stop and walked the three blocks to the bakery, my head down. I was soaked to the bone by the time I reached the door. The little bell chimed as I pushed my way inside, and the warm, sugary air of the shop hit me like a blanket. It was a sharp contrast to the cold, sterile feeling of Grayson’s office.
Penelope was at the counter, boxing up a dozen cinnamon rolls for a regular customer. She looked up and her smile immediately dropped.
"Aria! Good heavens, child, you look like you fell in the river," she said, quickly finishing the transaction and waving the customer out. She rushed over to me, pulling a clean apron from a hook. "Get that wet shirt off and put this on. I’ll go get a towel from the back."
"I'm fine, Penelope. I just... it started raining," I said, but my voice betrayed me. It was thick and shaky.
"Don't you 'I'm fine' me. I have eyes," she replied, disappearing into the kitchen and returning a second later with a fluffy white towel. She draped it over my head and started rubbing my hair dry. "You went to see them, didn't you? Those corporate sharks."
I sat down on a stool by the counter, letting her fuss over me. "I went to get my money. It didn't go well."
"Did they pay you?"
"No. They said I stole from them. They threatened to sue me." I pulled the towel down around my shoulders, feeling the dampness of my hair on my neck. "And then I saw Grayson."
Penelope stopped scrubbing and looked at me, her eyes soft. "Ah. The big Alpha. I take it he wasn't very helpful?"
"He was... he was a jerk, Penelope. He kicked everyone out of the room, and then he took me to his office, and then he basically told me I wasn't 'experienced' enough for him." I felt my face heat up just saying it. "He told me he didn't have time for me. That I was too much of a drama risk because I haven't... you know."
Penelope huffed and walked back into the kitchen. "Experience. Men love that word when they’re trying to hide the fact that they’re cowards. Come in the back, Aria. We have four dozen cupcakes to frost, and I find that sugar is the only cure for a bad day."
I followed her into the kitchen. The warmth from the ovens was already starting to dry my clothes. We stood at the big stainless steel table, two large bowls of buttercream frosting between us. One was chocolate, the other was a bright, cheerful pink.
"So," Penelope said, handing me a piping bag. "You just squeeze from the top, swirl it around, and lift. Try not to think about his face while you do it, or you'll end up with a mess."
We worked in silence for a few minutes. I messed up the first three cupcakes, the frosting coming out in lumpy piles because my hands were shaking with leftover anger. By the tenth one, I was starting to get the hang of it. The repetitive motion was actually helping me calm down.
"You know," Penelope said, her voice casual as she decorated a tray with perfect precision. "I wasn't always a baker. Before I moved to Silverfang, I lived up north with the Timber-Claw pack."
I looked at her, surprised. "You were in a pack? Like, a real one?"
"I was the lead nurse for the Alpha’s family," she said, nodding. "I’ve seen everything, Aria. I’ve stitched up claw marks, delivered litters of pups, and watched Alphas act like complete idiots when they didn't know how to handle their feelings. I know a shifter’s heart better than they know it themselves."
"Then why are you here? In a bakery?"
Penelope smiled, a little sadly. "My mate passed away ten years ago. Without him, the pack felt a little unsettling. I wanted to go somewhere where nobody knew me as 'the nurse.' I wanted to smell like vanilla instead of antiseptic and blood."
She reached over and patted my hand, leaving a little smear of chocolate frosting on my skin. "I’ve seen men like Grayson Hart before. He’s carrying a lot of weight on those shoulders. The Hart family has a history of secrets, and Grayson... he’s the one who has to keep it all together. He’s a man who lives by rules and control."
"He told me I wouldn't understand his world," I said, thinking back to his cold eyes. "And then he used my personal life as an excuse to kick me out."
"He’s probably scared," Penelope said.
"Scared? He's 6'6 and built like a tank. What could he be scared of?"
"A girl who makes him feel something he can't control," she replied with a wink. "When an Alpha tells you you're 'too innocent' or 'not experienced,' what he’s really saying is that he’s afraid of breaking you. Or worse, he's afraid of you changing him. He’s trying to push you away before you get under his skin."
"I don't need him to protect me," I snapped, accidentally squeezing too much pink frosting onto a cupcake. "I just wanted my severance check so I could buy Nana’s medicine. He made it... sexual. And then he made it an insult."
"I know, dear. I know." Penelope took the piping bag from me and fixed my mistake with a quick flick of her wrist. "But you’ve caught his scent now. And he’s caught yours. In my experience, once a wolf like that gets a taste of something real, he doesn't stay away for long. He’ll be back. And you need to decide if you’re going to let him in or lock the door."
"I'm locking the door," I said firmly. "I have enough problems with Jess and the Iron Fangs watching the shop. I don't need a moody billionaire Alpha making things worse. He thinks I'm a headache? Fine. He can go find someone else to bother."
"Well," Penelope chuckled, sliding another tray of cupcakes toward me. "If you're going to lock the door, you'd better make sure it’s a strong one. Because Grayson Hart looks like the type who doesn't mind breaking a few hinges to get what he wants."
We spent the rest of the afternoon talking about lighter things—recipes, the annoying man who always complained about the coffee being too hot, and the stray cat that lived in the alley. It was the most normal I’d felt in days. By the time we finished the cupcakes and cleaned the kitchen, the sun was starting to set.
My clothes were dry, but I still felt a little cold inside. As I said goodbye to Penelope and stepped out into the evening air, I kept my hand on the piece of paper in my pocket with Grayson's number on it. I wanted to throw it away, to tear it into tiny pieces and let the wind take it.
But I didn't. I tucked it deeper into my jeans and started the long walk home.