Cruel Temptation | ongoing

chapter one

C H A P T E R O N E
• • •

I woke up to the sound of clattering pots and the distinct smell of burning.

"Oh shit, shit, shit," I could hear my roommate, Kate, say over and over, followed shortly by another round of clattering from downstairs.

When I eventually got up, mind you not particularly happy about it, I was met with my kitchen in an absolute bloody shambles. My bunny rabbit slippers looked just about as horrified as I must have.

Pots were haphazardly thrown across the counter, flour was everywhere, and the owner of all of this mess was in the middle of it all, covered from head to toe in an assortment of baking ingredients.

She was bent over and reaching into the oven. Again, she let out an onslaught of swearing when she realised whatever she'd been making was well and truly cremated.

"You know," I said, setting myself on the bar stool and swivelling slightly to face her. "Someone would think you were making a birthday cake for the Queen and not a four year old who won't even remember the cake."

The tray clattered, and she stared at me, hands on hips and blonde hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I said, gesturing around me to the mess. "I can barely put my elbows on the counter without knocking everything over."

"Yeah," she breathed. "I guess I got a bit carried away." A bit? "To be fair, this is the one for those super rich, absolutely fûcking rolling in it clients."

"So that's why you're working on a—" I looked at the list of things to do she'd made. "— fairy princess cake at five thirty in the morning on a Sunday."

"Precisely."

Don't get me wrong, I loved Kate like actually couldn't live without her... but being woken up by what sounded like someone conducting a band of kitchen utensils was pushing my love just a tad.

"Does this mean I'm not going to be able to use the kitchen for the next four days?"

She rolled her eyes at me. "No, actually. It's due today." Her hazel eyes scanned the area as if realising just what a task it would be to pretty much start a cake all over again to be done today. "Which reminds me..."

"No, I will not let you borrow my car."

"That's not what I was going to as—"

"And no, I will not help you deliver the cake either," I said, slipping off the seat and going round to the cupboard in search for my chocolate weetabix. I sidestepped her five foot five frame and plucked the milk out of the fridge, too.

"Amara please."

She was doing that 'puppy' look on me now. You know the one: eyes wide, lip wobbling. She looked pathetic with her hair a mess and face looking like she'd had a quick, drunken snort of crack in the toilets.

I set my bowl down on the small table in the lounge. She was staring at me over the kitchen island, arching a thick eyebrow as I pushed her magazines out of the way.

"I don't know why you read this crap," I said in distate as I scanned the headline of the first one. 'Most eligible bachelor in Britain spotted with supermodel on yacht in Portugal.' I put it with all her others to the side. "Wonder how long that'll last," I muttered to myself.