Let Them Kneel (kaelani and Julian) novel Chapter 21

The bakery had gone quiet after the morning rush, sunlight spilling across the empty tables. Tessa was perched on a stool, sipping her coffee while Kaelani worked dough at the prep table.

“Every single one of these guys,” she announced, shoving her screen toward Kaelani, “has a fish. Why is holding a trout the new dick pic?”

Kaelani shrugged. “At least the fish doesn’t lie about being six inches.”

“STOP. Oh my God. I’d take a fish over this one—look.” Tessa held up her phone again. “He’s got a bathroom mirror selfie. Toilet in the background. And it’s…unflushed.”

Kaelani made a face, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. “Romantic. Nothing says ‘date me’ like floaters in the shot.”

“Ugh, men are exhausting,” Tessa sighed, tossing her phone aside. “This one guy the other night tried to dirty-talk me, and you know what he came up with? ‘You like that big sausage?’”

Kaelani blinked. “Sausage?”

Tessa threw up her hands. “I swear, I almost asked him if he wanted me to wrap it in a bun and add mustard.”

Kaelani laughed, shaking her head. “Better a sausage than a remote, I guess.”

“Excuse me?”

“Didn’t you tell me one guy wanted to use the TV remote as a…toy?” Kaelani arched a brow.

“Oh my God, I forgot about that! Yeah, Captain N*****x-and-Chill thought volume up would, you know, turn me on.”

Kaelani smirked, deadpan. “Did it?”

“Girl. I faked a seizure to make him leave.”

Kaelani bent over the dough, laughter shaking her shoulders. “You’re going straight to hell.”

“I’ll save you a seat,” Tessa quipped, grinning wickedly.

For a long moment, neither moved. Then Julian broke the stillness, striding to a table in the far corner. The chair scraped softly as he sat, his gaze falling to the surface in front of him. His hands pressed flat to the wood, fingers flexing once, then going still. Waiting.

Something was different. Stripped down. The crisp suits and polished armor were gone, replaced by a plain white tee and dark jeans.

Her fingers fumbled with the apron ties. She tugged them loose, set the cloth aside, and wiped her palms against her thighs. He hadn’t come all this way for a croissant. They both knew it.

Steeling herself with a breath she didn’t feel, she crossed the room. Each step landed too heavy, too loud, until she reached him. She pulled a chair back and lowered herself into the seat across from him.

That’s when his eyes lifted—slowly, deliberately—and found hers.

And for the first time, he looked at her. Really looked at her.

The sunlight poured through the bakery windows, catching the strands of her chestnut hair. It was woven into a long braid that trailed over her shoulder, a few loose wisps escaping to frame her face. Those stray pieces brushed her cheeks, softening the edges of a jaw too stubborn to bow to anyone.

Her eyes—Goddess, her eyes. Gray as storm clouds, magnetic and unflinching, pulling him in like a tide he had no hope of resisting. Her lips were full, flushed from biting them in thought, not painted into perfection.