Let Them Kneel (kaelani and Julian) novel Chapter 23

23 /90

The bakery was quiet, the ovens cooled, the front lights dimmed. Kaelani sat at the desk in the small office tucked in the back, receipts and order slips spread out before her. The calculator clicked beneath her fingers, but the numbers blurred on the page, her mind circling elsewhere no matter how hard she tried to focus.

The nerve of him—walking into her bakery, into her space—with that perfect face, like he owned the air she breathed. Those stupid amber eyes of his, burning like molten honey.

And his stupid jaw. Sharp enough to cut glass, set in permanent command, like the world was built to obey him. And his body—broad shoulders stuffed into that stupid plain white tee, muscles flexing like a damn Greek statue that had stepped out of marble just to annoy her.

And his stupid hair. That sandy-colored mess that always managed to fall just right, like the universe itself made sure every strand framed his flawless face.

And then to sit there, with all that perfection, telling her what to do with her body? As if his stupid muscles and stupid face somehow gave him the authority to decide her life.

Did he even know what those suppressants did to a woman’s body? The mood swings, the bone-deep fatigue, the headaches that felt like your skull was cracking in two? Probably not. And even if he did—why the hell would he care?

The pen clattered from Kaelani’s hand to the desk, her jaw tight, the rant in her head looping like a broken record.

The office door creaked open. Tessa leaned against the frame, arms crossed, a careful look on her face. “I’m about to head out. Anything else you need me to do before I go?”

Kaelani shook her head, rubbing her temples. “No. Go on home. I’m almost finished here.”

Tessa hesitated, biting her lip. “You’ve been quiet all day. I didn’t want to pry, but…” She shifted, eyes glinting with mischief. “Am I allowed to ask what Mr. Fancy Pants wanted?”

A sigh broke from Kaelani, heavy and sharp. “I guess to tie up loose ends. Make sure I didn’t get knocked up.” She dropped her gaze to the scattered slips on the desk, her voice flattening. “I don’t know. I don’t care.”