The Billionaire's Secret by Ava Miles

ago. She currently has just over twelve hundred dollars in her personal banking account. If she landed you—”
    “Shut the fuck up, Chase. Right now.”
    There was a shocked silence on the other end. Evan’s heart rate lurched from normal to anaerobic in seconds. He’d never said anything like that to Chase before. But hearing him say those things about Margie…
    “You do love her,” the man finally said with a groan. “I’ll excuse what you just said. But I’ll tell you this once, Evan. No one talks to me like that. Not even you.”
    The younger boy in him, the one Chase had cultivated and helped grow into a man, wanted to kowtow, but he planted his feet on the balcony and stared off into the horizon. “Then promise me that you’ll never say one more bad word about Margie—to me or anyone else—ever again.”
    “I apologize,” Chase said easily. “I was out of line. I’m only trying to protect you, Evan.”
    “You’re not my father, Chase,” he said. But as he said it, he realized something—for a long time, he had looked to Chase to be his friend, brother, and dad all in one. “At least I don’t need you to be anymore. How about we just agree to look after each other as friends?”
    There was another pause. “That sounds okay. Do I need to come to Paris to meet her?”
    Evan had never introduced Chase to any of the other women he’d dated. “I don’t know.” When he thought of it, he did want Chase to meet her. “It’s complicated right now.”
    “Right. She still doesn’t know who you are. I think you should keep it that way until she tells you she loves you. It’s the only way you can know with one hundred percent certainty that she’s not just after your billions.”
    Hearing Chase give that advice helped alleviate the guilt he’d been feeling all day. He knew he shouldn’t make love to Margie without telling her the full truth, and yet…
    “I agree. For now.”
    “Good,” Chase said. “Now, I’m going to let you go so we can both get back to work.”
    “Go to bed,” Evan said even though he knew it would make no difference. “It’s almost ten o’clock there.”
    “It’s early,” Chase said with a chuckle. “I’ll talk to you later, Evan.”
    “Bye, Chase,” he responded and hung up.
    He pocketed his phone and leaned against the rails. They’d never gone at each other quite like that before, and while it scared him a bit, how much he’d asserted himself with Chase, he also felt powerful. Like he’d just slayed a dragon from his past. After all these years, he was finally man enough to speak his mind and not run from conflict.
    Everything seemed to be changing.
     
    ***
     
    When Andre finally called an end to her first day of instruction, Margie was in possession of his secret baguette recipe and a new wealth of knowledge about the different types of flour. Rye flour softened wheat-based flour, and chestnut flour—a decadent pale yellow color—added sweetness and was gluten free. Of course, the latter was used sparingly, both because of its lofty price and its dense texture.
    All but six of her apprentice loaves had been sold. Her heart glowed in her chest when she thought of the people who would be eating her bread with their evening meal. She’d fed people before, but they were her friends. These loaves had been her first sale as a professional baker, and she planned to celebrate.
    “You will take your extra loaves home with you now, ma petite,” Andre said, tucking them into a large cloth bread bag.
    “We can’t possibly eat them all,” she said, laughing. “Can I take five of the loaves to Father Charles to give to the poor?”
    His whole face softened, and he pulled her in for a warm hug. “You have the heart of a baker, Margie. In the smaller villages in France, bakers would always make an offering of the first loaves at their new shop to the church.”
    That cinched it. “Can you call him and tell him I’m coming? Does he speak English? My