DEMETRIA

I let the hot water cascade down my body, steam filling the bathroom as I tried to calm my nerves. Marion’s deep voice carried faintly through the door, low and steady as he spoke to his brother about today’s lunch. The Whitfields.

I pressed my palms against the tiled wall, exhaling. Damn. Lunch with his family? It wasn’t just any family. It was the Whitfields. Old money, power, influence dripping from their name like honey too rich to swallow.

And me? A baker from Mexico who ...