I own a small, cosy bakery in the peaceful countryside of NYC. The smell of fresh bread and warm pastries fills the air, but behind that sweetness is a story I don’t really like to share.

Born in India, I ran away as a teenager, escaping my drunk, abusive parents who thought alcohol was a better investment than school fees.

I ended up in NYC, working my way through restaurants and cafes as a waiter, mostly hired because, apparently, I’ve got good looks and my English is sharp enough to make them forget I’m not one of them.

My dream was to study, but that dream got left somewhere between survival and sanity.

Now, I’m here, living in a decent apartment, with a bakery to call my own. Life’s peaceful, but there’s always this little void, a space that feels like something is missing.

But no, don’t get me wrong-I’ve got a best friend, Kylie. She’s more like my sister, really. She’s from NYC, and lives just a few streets away. Most days, we’re either at my place or hers, eating junk food, bingeing on reality TV, and making questionable life choices.

Her parents are absolute angels. They treat me like their own. And no, I’m not jealous of Kylie having such awesome parents; I’m just glad they love me enough to adopt me as their daughter.

Kylie, of course, is the wild one. Spoilt to the core, while I’m the quiet, responsible baker. Opposites attract, right?

She runs a flower shop near my bakery, and trust me, it’s always chaos when we’re together.

Speak of the devil-she called me just as I was in the middle of decorating a cake.

“Bitch, what the hell are you doing?” she practically screamed through the phone, loud enough to make my ears bleed.

I pulled the phone away from my ear. “Topping a cake. With cherries. And cream.”

“Ugh, boring! When’s a hot mafia guy gonna show up at your bakery, slap some cherry cream on you, and....”

“STOP right there,” I cut her off, grimacing. “Why do you always have to sexualize food?!”

Kylie cackled on the other end. “Because you’re a prude! You need to lose your virginity, babe, or your ‘innocence’ is gonna get you into trouble one day.”

“And who says losing virginity equals losing innocence?” I asked, trying to stay calm as I piped icing on a cupcake.

“The great Kylie says so, duh.”

“Well, I’m not following your philosophy, idiot.”

“Whatever! I’m going to a sex club tonight. Wanna come?” it was more like a statement “wanna cum”

I nearly dropped my spatula. “Kylie, you went to that club last week! Haven’t they banned you yet?”

“Why would they ban me? It’s a free country, and the sex club has rules. It’s very civilized, you know. They do tests and everything. It’s practically safer than your bakery.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t want to end up watching you get an STD and having to explain to everyone that my sister died from poor life choices.”

She scoffed. “Bitch, please. It’s safer than riding a bus in this city. Just come for the fun, eat some snacks, maybe watch a sexy show.”

"Oh sure, because sitting around at a five star and do doing nothing is so much better than watching strangers strip on stage. No thanks! I'll stick with KFC, Netflix, and my cozy couch over your bizarre fantasies."

Kylie groaned dramatically. “God, you’re so boring! At least get a boyfriend or something. I swear, your ass has been glued to me for too long.”

“’Til death do us part, baby girl.”I giggled .

“Touché. But seriously, I want you to have someone who makes you feel at home, someone besides me.”

“I already feel at home with you,” I said, cutting her off before she could get all sentimental. “I’m an independent woman, self-sufficient, can pay my own bills, and I-”

“Oh please,” she mimicked me in a whiny voice, “I’m a strong woman who doesn’t need anyone. Blah blah blah.”

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes,

“now just come out of your the bakery and save me from this conversation, or I swear I’ll lock you out forever.”

“Oh god, how did I end up with a crazy friend like you?”

“Destiny, babe. It’s written in the stars.” she replied .

Knowing Kylie, I rushed to open the door before she decided to kick it down. She strutted in like she owned the place, her eyes darting around the room before zeroing in on my laptop.

“Babe, my damn laptop is dead, so I need to make an appointment using yours.”

I froze, clutching my apron. “Oh hell no! Chiii! You’re not booking your questionable activities on my laptop. I’ll need ganga jal after that!”

“What the hell is 'chii' and 'ganga...what?”

“It’s ganga jal, you heathen. Holy water. And ‘chii’ is basically ‘eww.’ Learn some culture.”

She rolled her eyes. “You act like I’m booking a session for you or something. Chill out.” She sat down, already typing away on my poor, innocent laptop.

I gave up, shaking my head, and went back to icing the cakes. Just as I got into the rhythm of spreading buttercream, she decided to stir things up again.

“Babe, I’ve been thinking-”

Before she could finish, I pointed the butter knife at her dramatically.

She blinked at it. “Girl, that’s a butter knife. Anyway, I was gonna say, should I book one for you too?”

“Not this time, Kylie. Never this time.”

She groaned. “When are you going to lose that virgin status, huh? You’re wasting your prime years. I want you to live your best life!”

“And I am living my best life-with my virgin status, thank you very much.”

“But you’re missing out on so much! You don’t even have to do anything wild. Just some fun, some adventure. Come on, let me show you how this works.”

I was mentally checked out of this conversation, focusing on my cakes, but curiosity was starting to gnaw at me. I mean, she’s always booking stuff on this website-what could possibly be that fascinating? Just one quick peek wouldn’t hurt, right?

I leaned over her shoulder.

“Oh my god, babe,” she whispered, eyes glued to the screen. “I’m literally getting turned on just looking at these escort pictures. I could eat them up like croissants.”

I nearly dropped my piping bag. “Did you just compare men to croissants?”

She smirked, scrolling through the profiles like she was picking out pastries. “Yeah, and I’m about to butter some up too.”

I stared at Kylie in disbelief as she scrolled through the website like it was a bakery menu. She kept drooling over the profiles while I focused on my cakes, trying to ignore the madness brewing beside me.

“Babe, you need to live a little,” she said, nudging me. “Here, let’s just fill out your details. It'll be fun!”

Before I could protest, she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the laptop. “What are you doing?!”

She winked. “Relax, I’m just going to pretend-fill the form for you, you know, for laughs. You won't even notice.”

I groaned but let her have her fun, thinking there was no harm in a little prank. After all, Kylie was the queen of ridiculous ideas.

“Alright, what’s your age?” she asked, fingers poised over the keyboard.

“21,” I mumbled.

“Hmm, let’s say you’re 24. More mature vibes like a mommy.” She typed in the new number before I could object.

“What about your preferences? Like, tall, dark, and handsome?”

“Kylie!”

“Fine, fine,” she giggled. “I’ll put ‘likes good croissants and tea.’ You know, keep it classy.”

I rolled my eyes. “This is insane.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started.” She clicked over to the photo upload section. “Now for the profile pic. Let’s use something candid, something natural.”

“Kylie, don’t you da-”

Too late. She swiped my phone, which I had left on the counter, and scrolled through my gallery.

“Ah, here we go. This one’s perfect!” She flashed me a picture of myself in my bakery apron, flour on my nose, mid-laugh. Well it's a photo of a side profile .

“That’s embarrassing! You’re not seriously going to use that?”

She grinned wickedly and hit ‘upload.’ “Done. You’re officially bakery-chic.”

I groaned, half laughing, half mortified. “Okay, now quit it before you actually submit this thing.”

She continued typing furiously, filling out random bits of information. “What’s your deepest, darkest secret? That you once cried over a burnt croissant? Oh, I’m putting that in!”

“Kylie, stop! This is not a joke anymore!”

“Alright, alright, I’m done,” she said, clicking the final button with a flourish. “Just for fun!”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head, relieved that it was over. “You’re insane. Now, can you please get off my laptop before you accidentally-”

Suddenly, the screen flashed.

"Your profile has been submitted!"

We both froze.

“Wait… what?” I gasped, staring at the screen.

“What did you do?!”

Kylie’s face went pale. “Oh my god. I think I hit submit instead of preview.”

I nearly dropped dead on the spot. “YOU WHAT?!”

She stared at the screen in horror, then looked at me, wide-eyed. “Oh… crap. I think I just posted your profile… for real.”

I panicked, rushing to the laptop. “Take it down! Take it down right now!”

She scrambled to click through the site, but it was too late. My phone buzzed. A notification from the website popped up.

“Congratulations! Your profile is now live and visible to thousands of eligible users!”

I grabbed my head in disbelief. “Kylie, you’ve turned me into a croissant-loving escort!”

“I swear it was an accident!” She was frantically refreshing the page, trying to figure out how to delete it.

Suddenly, she burst out laughing. “Babe, look! Someone’s already sent you a message. 'Looking for a croissant date?'”

I glared at her, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “This is all your fault!”

“I’ll fix it, I promise!” she said between laughs. “But hey, at least you’re getting attention, right?”

I grabbed the butter knife again, but this time it wasn’t for icing.

Kylie, now in full mischief mode, started laughing uncontrollably as she kept typing on the laptop. “Okay, okay, I need to really spice this up. Let’s add something edgy-darkest secret: BDSM.” She typed it in without a second thought.

I stared at her in horror. “Are you INSANE?! I’m a baker, not a dominatrix!”

“Oh, relax,” she smirked, “I’m adding a little bakery twist to it. How about: ‘She loves getting tied up in apron strings and has a thing for kneading… doughy bodies.’”

I groaned, “Kylie, stop! You’re ruining my entire life in real-time.”

She ignored me, continuing with her bizarre fantasy. “Let’s say your dream date involves whipped cream… but not just for topping cakes. Maybe throw in some honey drizzled on soft, warm buns… and of course, you’ll need to rise to the occasion.”

I covered my face with both hands, dying of embarrassment. “You’ve officially gone mad. This is like a bakery-themed Fifty Shades of Disaster.”

But she was on a roll, typing like a maniac. “I’ll throw in a final touch-your fantasy: a tall, dark, and dangerous guy showing up at your bakery, demanding a 'special order' of you covered in cherry cream.”

“Stop! I’m not trying to get kidnapped by some cream-loving psychopath!” I grabbed for the laptop, but Kylie quickly dodged me, laughing like a lunatic.

Just then, something weird happened. The screen flashed, and a new notification popped up. A message. Kylie’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my god, no way.”

“What now?” I asked, already bracing myself for the worst.

She clicked on the message, and we both gasped. The profile that appeared… was unlike any of the others we had seen.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with intense, dark eyes that seemed to burn through the screen. His jawline was sharp enough to cut bread, and his bio simply read: "The devil . Danger is my middle name, and no one leaves my bakery without a taste of the forbidden."

I blinked, speechless.

Kylie, however, was beside herself with excitement. “Babe… did we just match with some one like a mafia guy? Who… also has a bakery fetish?!”

“No way,” I muttered, my stomach doing flips. “This has to be a joke. No one actually writes bios like that.”

She started scrolling through his profile, her eyes practically sparkling. “Oh, he’s definitely real. Look at this-he’s got photos at luxury restaurants, mysterious black cars, a house that looks like it belongs in a mafia movied… and oh my god, look at his hands. Those are definitely kneading dough hands if you know what I mean.”

I swallowed hard, feeling completely out of my depth. “Okay, no. This is officially too weird. I’m deleting this profile right now-”

Before I could finish, another notification pinged. Kylie squealed and clicked on it.

It was from him.

The message read: "I like your style. Let’s just say I’m into ‘kneading’ too. Meet me at your bakery tonight, and we can see if your buns are as sweet as they look."

I practically choked. “WHAT THE ?!”

Kylie burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. “Babe! He’s like a mafia guy and he’s into your bakery BDSM fantasy! This is fate!”

“No, this is a NIGHTMARE!” I grabbed the laptop, frantically trying to figure out how to delete the profile.

But before I could do anything, Kylie smirked and whispered, “Well… are you gonna meet him? He sounds like he’s ready to roll out the dough.”

I glared at her, panicking. “No way am I meeting some random mafia guy who thinks I’m into… whatever THIS is! We need to shut this down before he actually shows up at the bakery tonight!”

Kylie giggled, leaning back in the chair. “Or, you could see where it goes. I mean, tall, dark, and dangerous isn’t exactly a bad option, right? You could be the mafia queen of cakes.”

I groaned, my mind racing with all the terrible scenarios. “I bake cupcakes, Kylie, not criminal conspiracies! Delete this NOW before he sends more messages!”

But, of course, my phone pinged again. Another message from Mr. Devil

“Hope you’re ready for a taste of the dark side, cupcake. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

I dropped the butter knife.

“Oh. My. God.”

Kylie was rolling on the floor, cackling, while I felt my entire life falling apart like a badly made soufflé.

But, to be fair, his profile was ridiculously hot. Even though it was just a side profile, his jawline looked sharp enough to not only slice through my cakes but, honestly, through my self-control-and maybe even my... well, let’s just say it could cut in all the right places.

I stared at the screen, both horrified and a little intrigued. “Kylie… why is his jawline making me reconsider every life decision I’ve ever made?”

"Seriously, babe?" Kylie raised an eyebrow.

"No, girl, I was just kidding. Just cancel it!"

"Um… are you sure?" she teased, giving me a mischievous grin. "Because if you're not gonna take him, I might just-"

"Then take him, na! He’s not my husband or anything," I shot back, rolling my eyes.

She smirked. "You could make him your husband, you know. Just saying."

I shot her a death glare, and she quickly waved her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to cancel it!”

She started typing furiously, but then suddenly paused, biting her lip. A guilty look washed over her face.

“Babe… we have a problem.”

I crossed my arms, already sensing the worst. “What now?”

“I, uh… might’ve accidentally clicked ‘Yes’ when I was trying to cancel the meet-up.”

I blinked at her, completely dumbfounded. “You WHAT?!”

Kylie looked at me with wide, innocent eyes, biting her lip even harder, which meant only one thing: she was telling the truth. My jaw dropped.

“So… you're saying I’m actually meeting Mr. Mafia Jawline tonight?!”

She nodded sheepishly. “I mean, technically, yes. But hey, it’s not all bad. You can just meet him, give him some money or something, and tell him it was all a mistake. Or, you know… if his features are as sharp in real life as they are in that profile, you might want to reconsider.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Kylie, this is a disaster! I’m not about to bribe a mafia guy with cake money and hope he just cancels on me!”

She leaned back with a shrug, still grinning. “Or… you could just roll with it. I mean, he’s hot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I shot her a glare. “What’s the worst that could happen?! I could end up tied to my own bakery ovens by some mafia guy who thinks I’m into whipped cream kinks!”

Kylie laughed, completely unfazed. “Well, at least you'll have a good story to tell.”

She left to get ready for her night at the club, and I went back to my apartment, throwing on a tank top and my comfiest pair of panties.

Perks of living alone- I could lounge around however I wanted. I had planned to go shopping, but with the rain pouring down outside, I decided to scroll through my phone instead, cozy under a blanket.

Just as I was getting comfortable, the doorbell rang.

I groaned, pulling on the nearest pair of shorts, and shuffled to the door, wondering who on earth it could be. When I opened it, my breath caught in my throat.

There, standing right in front of me, was the most stunning man I’d ever seen-like he had walked straight out of a mythological painting. He was drenched, rain dripping off his dark hair, his white shirt clinging to his chiseled body in a way that could only be described as unfair to the human race.

A Greek god in the flesh, standing at my door.

He's even hotter and more handsome in person than in the side profile pic he uploaded. Every description was spot on.

I blinked, speechless, my eyes traveling from his sharp jawline to the smoldering intensity in his dark eyes. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating.

“Are you going to invite me in,” he said in a low, deep voice, “or should I enjoy the rain a little longer?”

I snapped out of my daze, stepping back awkwardly to let him in. My heart pounded as he walked into my apartment, water dripping off him onto the floor.

Oh god, this wasn’t just any random guy. This was him.

The mafia man with the dangerously sharp jawline.

“I, um… wasn’t expecting you so soon,” I stammered, trying not to sound completely terrified.

He looked at me with an amused smirk, his gaze slowly traveling over me. “Seems like you weren’t expecting me at all.”

I realized then that I was standing there in a tank top and shorts-far too casual for the situation at hand. I crossed my arms awkwardly, trying to cover myself up without making it too obvious.

“What… what are you doing here?” I asked, my voice shaky.

He tilted his head slightly, those dark eyes narrowing as he took a step closer. “You did say you wanted to meet. I’m just making sure I keep my appointments.”

My stomach flipped, and my mind raced with every possible outcome. This is what I get for letting Kylie mess with my profile, I thought. But it was too late now.

“Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I started, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “I didn’t mean to-”

Before I could finish, he interrupted, his voice smooth but commanding. “No misunderstandings. You wanted to meet, and now we’re here. Let’s see how sweet things can get, shall we?”

Oh no. This was definitely not going as planned.

He was literally dripping wet, and as much as I tried not to feel anything, it was hard not to notice the way his soaked shirt clung to every sculpted muscle.

I cursed Kylie under my breath-she had assured me that this website was secure, that there was nothing illegal going on. But from what I’d seen, the things people did on there were borderline illegal in every other sense.

Inviting him to sit ,I grabbed a towel from the closet and handed it to him, my hands shaking just slightly. "Here. You should dry off. The rain’s going to get worse."

He took the towel, his fingers brushing mine ever so slightly, sending a strange jolt through me.

As he began drying himself off, I couldn’t help but watch-his every movement slow and deliberate, his muscles rippling as he wiped the rain from his face and hair.

Focus, I told myself. This is not the time to ogle a mafia man in your living room.

“You should leave once the storm passes,” I said, trying to sound more in control of the situation. “The weather’s bad, but I don’t think you should stay. Just take the money, and, um, let’s pretend this never happened.”

He paused, the towel halfway through his hair, and looked at me with those intense dark eyes. There was a small, almost playful smirk playing on his lips, like he found the whole thing amusing. He didn’t move, didn’t make any sign of taking the money.

Instead, he took a step closer, his presence filling the room in a way that made it feel too small.

“I’m not interested in your money,” he said, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down my spine. “You think I came all this way, in this weather, just for a quick payout?”

I blinked, trying to keep my composure. “Then… what do you want?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took another step closer, the space between us shrinking.

His gaze held mine, intense and unyielding, as if he could see through every wall I had built around myself.

“Let’s just say I don’t leave until I get what I came for,” he said softly, his voice dripping with dark promise. “And I don’t think that’s just about the money.”

My heart raced, pounding in my ears as his words hung in the air. “Look, I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding-”

“No misunderstanding,” he cut in smoothly, his lips curving into a deeper smirk. “I’m just waiting for you to figure out what you really want.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Kylie had assured me this was safe, but standing here with him, it felt like I was caught in a dangerous game I wasn’t prepared to play.

“The rain will stop soon,” I said, my voice wavering just slightly. “You can leave then.”

He held my gaze, unblinking. “I’m not in a hurry.” His words sent a wave of something through me-part fear, part something else I couldn’t quite name.

I was starting to realise this situation was far more complicated than I had anticipated, and the storm outside wasn’t the only thing that was about to get worse.

Suddenly, without warning, he took two long strides toward me, and before I could even process what was happening, I found myself pinned against the wall.

His hands rested just above my shoulders, caging me in, his body mere inches from mine. My heart raced so fast I couldn’t catch my breath, my chest heaving against the pressure of the moment.

“Think carefully,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent shivers down my spine. “If you don’t want this, I’ll leave. But don’t even think about going on that website again. If you do, you won’t get a second chance to back out.”

His words were possessive, as if he had some kind of claim over me already, but what scared me the most was how calm he sounded.

I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me-yet the way he spoke made it feel like he had known me for years, like he understood parts of me I hadn’t even realized existed.

I stared up at him, wide-eyed and speechless. The heat between us was suffocating, his presence overwhelming, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to push him away.

“How… how do you know me?” I finally managed to stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin, sending a shock of adrenaline through my veins. “I don’t need to know you,” he murmured, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I can see it in the way you’re trembling, the way your body reacts. You want this. You’ve wanted something like this for a long time, haven’t you?”

My pulse quickened, but I couldn’t find the words to respond. How could he possibly know what I wanted-what I hadn’t even admitted to myself?

He tilted his head, studying my face like he was searching for confirmation, and when I didn’t push him away, his lips curled into a smirk.

“I know you very well,” he continued, his voice soft but commanding. “Innocent on the outside, trying to pretend like you’re in control. But deep down… you crave something more, something dangerous.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. His words made me feel exposed, like he had peeled back every layer of my defences without even trying. My mind was spinning, trying to find a way out of this, but my body wasn’t cooperating.

“I don’t know what you think you know about me,” I said shakily, trying to regain some semblance of control, “but this isn’t what I signed up for.”

His smirk deepened. “You didn’t have to sign up for it. It found you.”

With that, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a dark whisper. “The only question is-are you going to keep pretending, or are you going to let yourself feel what you’ve been denying?”

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He was right-there was a part of me that had been craving something more, something beyond the safe, predictable life I’d been living. But this… this was dangerous. He was dangerous.

And yet, there was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that made it impossible to pull away.

I don’t know what it is, but everything I’m feeling with him is completely new to me. Before he showed up, I was always so engrossed in my work, too busy to even think about something like this. But now, standing here with him, I feel like I never really knew myself at all.

It’s unsettling-the way he seems to know me better than I know myself. Like he’s unlocked something deep inside me that I didn’t even realise was there. I’m not sure if I don’t want this, or if I’ve just never allowed myself to even consider the possibility until now.

Clueless, I stared between his eyes and his lips, my thoughts a jumbled mess. He pressed his thumb gently on my mouth, rubbing it in a way that made my breath catch. I felt a strange sensation stirring in my stomach,something intense and unfamiliar.

Suddenly, I gasped as I felt something hard poking against me, right at the tip of that… was that a piercing? My mind raced.

Did he just? No, it couldn’t be. Did he really just pierce something with that?

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low and husky, filled with an intensity that made me shiver. I knew I should have told him to go away, but instead, I stood there frozen, trapped between his arms like a caged bird.

Before I could even process the question, my eyes involuntarily fluttered shut, and he took that as a yes. His lips met mine in a kiss that was both soft and urgent.

His kiss was gentle yet commanding, a contrast of warmth and intensity. I could taste the faint hint of cigar smoke and wine, a mix that made the kiss both sophisticated and dangerously enticing.

The softness of his lips pressed against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me that I hadn’t expected.

As his lips moved against mine, I felt a rush of warmth spread through me, a dizzying blend of sensations.

His kiss was tender but full of an underlying intensity, as if he was pouring all of his unspoken desires into that single, passionate moment.

I found myself surrendering to the kiss, my body responding instinctively to the heat and intimacy of the contact.

It felt like time had stopped, the world outside fading away as I lost myself in the unexpected sweetness and warmth of his embrace.

Despite every rational thought telling me to pull away, I couldn't resist the magnetic pull of his kiss, allowing myself to be consumed by the moment.

When I finally opened my eyes, he was gone. I stood there, stunned and disoriented, my mind struggling to make sense of what had just happened.

“What the hell was that? Am I dreaming?” I muttered to myself.

In a daze, I pinched myself hard. The sharp sting made me wince, confirming that this wasn’t a dream. The pain was all too real.

My fingers hovered over my lips as I shut my eyes. Well, I finally had my first kiss. But wait… he's an escort, right? He's probably kissed more people than I’ve had hot meals!

Still, for some weird reason, it felt kinda special.

But seriously, where did he disappear to in a split second? Is he a vampire or a ghost?

What’s next-he sparkles in sunlight?

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

This is just a sample ,I won't be sharing the entire book here due to its explicit content. You can read the full version on Inkitt or Scrollstack.

Lemme know how's the first chapter and yes next chapter is going to have smuts 😈