Words: 3.5k

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  [Le Jardin Privé – Private Dining Room]

  Max Bck had been through a lot in her life.

  She had waited tables at the worst diner in Brooklyn. She had survived years of scraping by, dodging bills like an Olympic champion. She had endured Caroline's stressful lectures, Han's inappropriate jokes, and Sophie's very detailed sex stories over breakfast.

  But nothing... Absolutely nothing could have prepared her for this moment.

  Sitting across from Alex Wilson, Hollywood's golden boy, at a private table filled with a five-star Southern fort feast, while he sipped his wine and casually asked:

  "So, how much do you need?"

  Max blinked, her fork frozen mid-air. "Huh?"

  Alex smirked, setting his gss down. "To open your cupcake shop. A real one. Not scraping by. I mean a proper bakery. How much do you o make it happen?"

  Max stared at him, pletely thrown off. "Wait. Are we… are we actually talking business now? I thought we were still in the phase where I pretend this isn't a date and you pretend you don't want to sleep with me."

  Alex's lips twitched, but he didn't take the bait. "I'm serious, Max. Give me a number."

  Max exhaled, leaning ba her chair. "Oh, I don't know… a lot of money. More than I'll ever see in this lifetime unless I suddenly marry rich," She stopped, eyes narrowing. "Which, by the way, I'm still open to, if you're volunteering, Daddy Warbucks."

  Alex chuckled. "Tempting. But you don't know much about me. I don't know much about you. Sht now, I'd rather i in you."

  Max raised an eyebro. That's the least romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."

  Alex tilted his head. "Would you rather I seduce you or fund your cupcake empire?"

  Max preteo think. "Hmm… ideally? Both. But sine of those es with guaranteed asms and the other with a terrifying amount of responsibility, I need a mio decide."

  Alex smirked, clearly enjoying this. "Take your time."

  Max exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "Okay, okay. Real talk? I don't have a number, but…" She hesitated, then sighed. "Caroline does."

  "Good," Alex said, swirling his wine. "What's the number?"

  Max bit her lip. She kly what Caroline had calcuted down to the t. Rent, equipment, permits, ingredients, marketing— the full package.

  250,000.

  A quarter of a million dolrs.

  Saying it out loud felt… surreal.

  It wasn't just "paying the rent" money. It wasn't just "keeping the lights on" money. It was real business money. Stability. Growth. A future.

  And it was more mohan she had ever dared to dream about actually having.

  Her throat felt dry. She swallowed, f herself to look at Alex's infuriatingly unreadable face. "Two hundred and fifty grand."

  Alex aking a slow sip of wine. "Alright."

  Max frowned. "Alright… what?"

  Alex set his gss down, then leaned forward, resting his forearms oable. His blue eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unwavering.

  "I'll give it to you."

  Silence.

  Max blinked. "What?"

  Alex leaned back, pletely calm. "I'll i. 250K. Full funding. Ns attached."

  Max choked on air. "I—are you—EXCUSE ME?!"

  Alex smirked. "I guess that's a yes?"

  Max shot out of her chair so fast it nearly toppled over. "Hold the fuck up, Richie Rich! You do not just casually drop a quarter of a million dolrs oable like you're me extra fries!"

  Alex raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

  Max filed. "BECAUSE THAT'S INSANE!"

  Alex just shrugged, pletely unfazed. "Not to me."

  Max gawked at him. "Oh my God, you're serious. You're actually serious."

  Alex smirked. "Very."

  Max pnted her hands oable, staring him down. "Okay. No offense, Daddy Warbucks, but rich guys don't just hand out money for fun. There's always a catch. So what's yours?"

  Alex leaned forward, resting his on his hand. "No catch, Max."

  Max squi Alex like he had just grown a sed head.

  "Okay, so let me get this straight," she said, crossing her arms. "You're me a quarter of a million dolrs... for free?"

  Alex smirked. "Not for free. It's an iment."

  Max huffed, pag a little. "Right. An iment. Which, in rich-people nguage, means 'I own you now.'"

  Alex chuckled. "Max..."

  "No, no, no," Max cut in, pointing a fi him. "I know how this goes. This is the part where you tell me I have to sell my soul or some other kinky shit." She narrowed her eyes. "So let's just cut to the chase. Do you wao sleep with you?"

  Alex blihen smirked. "I mean, I wouldn't say no, but—"

  Max groaned. "AHA! I K!" She threw her hands up dramatically. "You DO want something! You wao be your personal little pything! Your own private cupcake girl, all covered in sugar and cream, ready to be devoured at your venience..."

  'Dang! This girl. trol, Alex. Don't get a boner now,' Alex leaned back, clearly amused. "Now that's a visual."

  Max poi him again. "Oh, don't you start picturing it, Moneybags. I know your type. Yonna wao call you 'Daddy' and make me wear lingerie made of hundred-dolr bills while I hand-feed you cupcakes and purr 'yes, sir, anything for my sugar daddy ior.'" (She said it.????)

  Alex fought back a ugh. "Would you do it?"

  Max narrowed her eyes. "Only if I get health insurand a pany car."

  Alex finally let out a full ugh, shaking his head. "Jesus, Max."

  She plopped bato her chair, crossing her arms. "Look, if you want a personal sex sve, just say it. If you wao be your cum dumpster, fine, but I'm gonna need a 401(k) aal."

  Alex choked on his wine. 'What the hell?!'

  Max leaned in, dead serious. "Do you know how expensive dental is, Alex?"

  He coughed, clearing his throat. "I—"

  "EXACTLY," Max cut in. "I gotta think ahead. My teeth are my moneymakers. I 't be selling cupcakes with a jacked-up grill. Oh, I need my boobs insured and my ass too. Maybe my entire body."

  Alex exhaled, shaking his head in amusement. "Max, I don't want you to be my personal sex sve."

  She crossed her arms. "That's what a sex sve owner would say."

  He smirked. "A, here I am, you a legitimate business deal."

  Max narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Define 'legitimate.' Because if at any point you expect me to kneel and call you Master Wilson, I'm gonna need a pay raise."

  Alex pihe bridge of his nose, exhaling through his nose as if trying very, very hard not to lose it. "Max…"

  She smirked. "Go on, tell me y, scary catch, Mr. Moneybags."

  Alex met her gaze, his expression turning effortlessly smooth, effortlessly trolled. Too trolled. "It's simple."

  Max squinted. "Nothing about rich people and their money is simple."

  Alex leaned forward slightly, swirling his wine gss. "You take the money, open your bakery, and slowly pay me back from the profits."

  Max blinked. "Wait. That's it?"

  Alex nodded. "I'll take 20% of your profits until I make back my iment. With 5% i. After that? It's all yours."

  Silence.

  Max just… stared at him.

  Theilted her head. "Wait, you're serious?"

  "Dead serious."

  Max opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then ope again.

  "…No sex sve tract?"

  "No sex sve tract."

  "No 'I own your soul' cuse?"

  "Nope."

  Max drummed her fingers oable. "No weird, secret rich-people blood ritual?"

  Alex smirked. "Not unless you want one."

  Max exhaled dramatically, slumping ba her chair. "Well, this is disappointing. Here I was, thinking of frosting myself and presenting my cream-covered body to you, and all you're asking for is a reasonable business agreement."

  'Oh, God! Help me,' Alex chuckled, shaking his head. "Max, I don't need a 'sugar baby.' And that frosting part is very tempting. So, don't push further or I might do something very regrettable. Ahem, anyway, I need a business partner. Someone who knows how to turn cupcakes into money. And you? You do."

  Max chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying not to let his words hit too deep.

  Because, damn it, no one had ever talked about her like that.

  Like she was smart. Like she was capable. Like she deserved success.

  Like she wasn't just barely getting by.

  She swallowed hard.

  Then, because she didn't know how to process a genuine pliment without making it weird, she smirked. "Well, I don't usually accept business proposals without a little forepy first, but I guess I make an exception."

  Alex chuckled, sipping his wine. "Good. Because I already have a lease picked out for you."

  Max choked. "WHAT?!"

  Alex smirked. "Rex, Bck. We have work to do."

  Max grabbed her wine gss, downed half of it in one go, and exhaled.

  "What the hell have I just gotten myself into?"

  Alex smirked. "Success."

  Max narrowed her eyes. "Goddamn it. That sounded hot."

  Alex grinned. "Wele to the big leagues, Cupcake Queen."

  [Approx. 1 mier]

  Max Bck was having a crisis. She was eating and her brain was overw as usual.

  Not the fun kind of crisis where you wake up o a hot stranger and try to piece together the night before. No, this was a full-blowential, "what the fuck did I just say?" crisis.

  Because, Jesus Christ, she had actually used the phrase "cum dumpster" in a business versation.

  With Alex Wilson.

  A billionaire. A Hollywood mogul. A man who literally owned movie studios and could probably buy a small try if he felt like it.

  And she, Max Bck, had just spewed absolute filth across the diable like some kind of unhinged lunatic.

  'What the fuck is wrong with me???'

  She stared down at her pte, aggressively shoving mashed potatoes into her mouth to avoid eye tact. Because if she looked at him now, she might actually die.

  Alex, meanwhile, was eating like nothing happened.

  Which was so much worse.

  Because that meant he rocessing what she had said.

  He was sitting there, sipping his wine, probably reevaluating every decision that led to him inviting this absolute feral gremlin to dinner.

  'Oh God. What if he thinks I'm a pervert??'

  What if he thinks she's one of those girls? The kind who just throws themselves at rich guys?

  Max chewed aggressively. 'Shit. I gotta fix this.'

  But how the hell do you casually recover from saying something like "Do you wao be your personal cum dumpster?"

  (She had to stop thinking about it or she was gonna have a goddamn aneurysm.)

  The sileretched.

  She had to say something.

  'Apologize, Max. For on your life, be an actual, funing human being and apologize.'

  She cleared her throat. "Sooo... uh..."

  Alex gnced up, still looking infuriatingly posed. "Hmm?"

  Max shifted in her chair, suddenly feeling way too hot in this stupid dress. She ran a hand through her hair, let out a slow breath, then...

  "I'm sorry," she blurted out.

  Alex raised an eyebrow.

  Max groaned, rubbing her forehead. "I mean, Jesus, I just said the words 'cum dumpster' during a business meeting, and I—ugh."

  Alex smirked. "Regrets, Bck?"

  Max exhaled sharply. "Look, I know I e on strong, okay? It's just... it's a reflex. When I get nervous, I talk. And sometimes, the filter between my brain and my mouth just... ceases to exist."

  Alex chuckled, taking another sip of wine. "Noticed."

  Max groaned again. "Yeah, yeah, ugh it up, Moneybags."

  Alex set his gss down and leaned forward slightly, his blue eyes locked onto hers with a mix of amusement and something else. Something deeper.

  "Max," he said smoothly. "If I were offended by anything you said, do you think I'd still be sitting here?"

  Max hesitated. "I mean... you are a rich guy. Rich guys are weird. Maybe you secretly like being insulted. Maybe this is some kind of high-stakes billionaire kink where you get off on women calling you a sugar daddy and threatening to unionize your sex sves."

  Alex let out a sharp ugh, shaking his head. "Jesus Christ, Bck."

  Max waved a hand. "Look, all I'm saying is... I wouldn't judge you. Kinks are kinks. If you wanna rolepy as a misuood business mogul being seduced by a poor but incredibly charming baker, I mean, who am I to say no?"

  Alex exhaled through his nose, his smirk widening. "Max."

  She huffed, looking away. "What?"

  "You don't have to apologize."

  Max blinked.

  Wait.

  What?

  Alex leaned back, swirling the st of his wine in his gss. "You don't have to expin yourself to me. I already know who you are."

  Max narrowed her eyes. "Yeah? And who's that?"

  Alex's smirk softened, just slightly. "A woman who's had to fight for every goddamn thing in her life. A woman who's had to rely on her wit and sarcasm to survive. A woman who..."

  He paused, setting his gss down, his voice l just enough to make her pulse qui.

  "...has never been given anything just because she deserved it."

  Max's breath hitched.

  Her stomach twisted.

  Because... fuck.

  He saw her.

  Like, actually saw her.

  Not just as the loud, sarcastic, borderline-insane Brooklyn waitress who made everything a joke.

  Not just as the girl who survived off caffeine, bad decisions, and a rapidly deing will to live.

  But as someone who was used to being overlooked.

  And now? Now he was just sitting there, looking at her like she was worth something.

  'Goddamn it.'

  Max swallowed, staring at the table.

  She took a deep breath.

  Then, in a voice quieter than she wa to be, she said:

  "I don't expect people to believe in me, Alex."

  He didn't react. He just waited.

  Max let out a slow, shaky exhale.

  "I mean... no one ever has before. Not really. The only thing people ever expect from me is a joke. Or sex." She swallowed. "And holy? Those are kinda the only things I expect from myself, too."

  Alex didn't interrupt.

  Didn't pity her.

  He just listened.

  And somehow, that made it worse.

  Max ughed, but it was hollow. "I mean, I don't do the whole 'dreams ing true' thing, you know? That's... not my life. My life is scraping by. It's telling myself 'this is enough' eve's not. It's surviving, not succeeding."

  She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

  "So, yeah. When you just casually throw 'Hey, here's 250K, go be successful' at me, I panibsp;Because that's not supposed to happen to people like me."

  She finally looked up at him.

  And Alex?

  Alex was just... watg her.

  Not with judgment.

  Not with amusement.

  But with something deep, something quiet and unreadable.

  Finally, he spoke.

  "People like you?"

  Max exhaled, half-ughing. "You know what I mean, Moneybags."

  Alex tilted his head, studying her.

  Then, in a voice low aain, he said:

  "You are supposed to succeed, Max. You just haven't been given the fug ce."

  Max froze.

  Her chest ached.

  Because that?

  That robably the hing anyone had ever said to her.

  And she had no fug idea what to do with it.

  So, naturally, she ruihe moment.

  "Ugh. Stop it. If you keep saying shit like that, I'm gonna start thinking you have a heart."

  Alex smirked, taking another bite of his steak. "You? Thinking?"

  Max gasped dramatically. "HOW DARE YOU."

  Alex chuckled. "Feelier now, Bck?"

  Max huffed, stabbing her fork into her mad cheese. "No. You're ruining my brand. If people find out I have feelings, I'll never recover."

  Alex smirked, shaking his head. "Tragic."

  Max took a deep breath.

  She still didn't fully trust this.

  Didn't fully trust him.

  But for the first time in a long time... she wao try.

  "Okay," she finally said.

  Alex raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"

  Max nodded, smirking. "Okay, I'll take your stupid rich-person money."

  Alex grinned.

  "Good," he said. "Now shut up a, Cupcake Queen."

  Max rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Daddy Warbucks."

  And just like that, the world shifted.

  For the first time, Max had something real.

  And Alex?

  He had no idea what he just got himself into.

  But damn, was he looking forward to it.

  ...

  [After dinner]

  Max was full. Too full.

  She hadn't just eaten—she had demolished that meal. Every buttery, crispy, cheesy, deep-fried, artery-clogging bite. And now?

  She was slumped ba Alex's car, one haing oomach, the other zily holding her purse. She took her sweet time to gather her thoughts for like ten minutes or so of silence... Then she broke the silence...

  "Oh my god," she groaned. "I think I just had a religious experience."

  Alex smirked, gng at her as he pulled onto the main road. "Satisfied?"

  Max let out a dramatic sigh, eyes half-lidded. "I might be too full to fun." She patted her stomach. "Tell my abs I'll miss them."

  He chuckled. "You have abs?"

  Max narrowed her eyes. "Excuse you, I have theoretibsp;abs. They exist beh yers of survival calories and my natural assets." She winked.

  He smirked. "Right. Sure."

  Max groaned again, stretg slightly. "I'm telling you, Wilson, if you're trying to impress me, you're succeeding. First, the mohen the food. If you throw in a foot massage, I might actually propose."

  Alex smirked, eyes still on the road. "A foot massage, huh?" He let the words linger, rolling them around his tongue like a fine wihen, with a casual shrug, he added, "I'd love to, if you want."

  Max blinked.

  Wait.

  What?

  She sat up a little, stomach full but suddenly feeling way too lightheaded. "Hold up. You... you'd actually do that?"

  Alex smirked but kept his face maddeningly unreadable. "Sure. Why not?"

  Max narrowed her eyes. "Don't mess with me, Richie Rich. Foot massages are a sacred act. That's not a joke offer. That's, like, 'take me home to meet your mom' levels of itment."

  Alex chuckled. "I didn't realize I was making a lifelong vow by to rub your feet."

  Max poi him dramatically. "Damn right, you are! You 't just throw that out there and expect me not to—" She cut herself off, suddenly realizing something.

  Her head tilted.

  "…Wait. Where the hell are we going?"

  Because now that she aying attention, she realized they weren't heading back to her pce. Or any pce she reized, for that matter.

  Alex's lips twitched like he'd been waiting for her to cat. "ht." He gave a zy, knowing g her before looking back at the road. "I figured we should stop by your new shop."

  Max blinked again.

  Her brain gged.

  "…My what?"

  Alex sighed dramatically, like he was expining something simple to a particurly dense puppy. "Your bakery, Max. The one yoing to open. You didn't think I'd just hand you a ched call it a day, did you?"

  Max just stared at him.

  Mouth slightly open.

  Trying to process.

  Trying very, very hard not to freak out.

  Because... Because what the actual fuck?

  She was still hung up on the foot massage, and now this man was casually dropping the fact that he had already bought her a goddamn bakery?

  Her bakery?

  Like it was nothing?!

  Max inhaled sharply. "You... Are you kidding me? You already picked a pce?"

  Alex smirked, eyes glinting. "Of course. I do my homework, Cupcake Queen."

  Max made an i noise, somewhere between a groan and a strangled scream. "Okay, no. No, no, no. This is... this is way too much. First, the mohen the food, now you're just... just giving me a whole ass bakery?" She threw her hands up. "What's ? A pony? A goddamn diamond-encrusted spatu?"

  He chuckled, pletely unbothered by her meltdown. "Would you like one?"

  She poi him again. "STOP IT."

  Alex grinned. "Rex, Max. It's just a lease."

  She gawked at him. "You call dropping a quarter of a million dolrs 'just a lease'?"

  Alex shrugged. "For me, yeah."

  She let out a strangled sound. "Oh my God, I hate rich people."

  He ughed. "You'll love this pce."

  Max crossed her arms, leaning ba her seat. "No, no, I refuse to get excited. I don't trust you."

  Alex g her, smirking. "You're already excited."

  Max huffed. "I'm—no, I am not."

  Alex tilted his head. "Mhm. So, you don't want that foot massage either?"

  Max opened her mouth. Closed it.

  Freaking hell.

  She hated him.

  And worse?

  She really, really wao see this damn shop and that foot massage.

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