Elin’s POV：

The banquet had finally drawn to a close, and Grayson was preparing to take his leave. I accompanied him out to the parking lot, my heels clicking softly against the stone path as the night air pressed cool against my bare shoulders.

Just before stepping into his car, he turned to me, his voice a velvet baritone that lingered pleasantly in the air.

“Your cakes were exquisite,” he said.

For a moment I was caught off guard. Then it struck me—those little cakes I had made for ...