The Bitter Truth Read Online Shanora Williams

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Suspense, Thriller Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
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THIRTY-TWO

JOLENE

One thing I love about Wednesdays at Regal Tea Boutique is that business booms. This means all my employees are busy, and none of them see me as I enter through the back door of the building, climb the short flight of steps to the loft, and head straight to my office.

I drop my purse on the desktop and sit in the cushioned brown leather chair with an exaggerated sigh. Even a floor up, I smell the freshly baked scones, brewing variations of tea, and lovely petit desserts for our teatime sessions.

Right now, we’re hosting afternoon tea and it’s a full house. The parking lot was packed and I’m thankful that my business runs so smoothly, even on days when I’m not around. If only I could rejoice in the success, take pride in all that I’ve accomplished when many thought it wouldn’t take off. My mind is all over the place. About Dominic, of course. I don’t want to be anywhere near him, and my visit from Daphne and Ricardo last night caused me a lack of sleep as my decision weighed heavily on my mind. A cup of tea or two will do me good right now, so I send a text to Sally, the store manager, and request an order.

I log into my computer and check emails, as well as the schedule to make sure people have been clocking in on time. I check the books, and all seems to be smooth, so I make my way down to the kitchen to grab my tea.

“It’s nice to see you in, Mrs. Baker,” Sally says in front of a tray. The tray is topped with a matching porcelain tea set hand painted with Japanese cherry blossoms. Along with the set is a glass cup filled with honey, another filled with cubes of sugar, and a mini three-tier tray. I love the three-tier tray the most—gold plates with three levels of foods to choose from. The bottom consists of crustless sandwiches, the middle of scones with cream and raspberry jam, and the top hosts mini desserts like cakes, cheesecakes, and pies. We like to make the trays as regal as possible and stick to traditional English standards, hence the name of my shop.

“A little work will do me good. How is Veronica?” I ask, and Sally beams as she picks up the tray, heading for the swinging doors. Veronica is her three-month-old baby.

“Oh, she’s perfect, Jolene. I’ll show you pictures when it slows down!”

“Please do!”

Sally leaves the kitchen and another woman pops in. Her curly hair is pulled into a cute mop atop her head, her skin the color of coffee with too much cream. Sleeves of tattoos cover both her arms. She has small freckles on her nose. “Jessica, right?” I ask as she collects another tray set up with tea and food.

“That’s me.” She smiles, giving me a look. I’m not sure what that look means, but I disregard it when she says, “Busy today!”

“That’s a great thing! You’re doing an amazing job. Keep at it.”

When she leaves, so do I. I return to the office to respond to more mails and make a few calls. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can head home and get ready for my cycling class. I’m in the middle of calling up one of my suppliers when there’s a knock at the door.

“I’m busy!” I call, assuming it’s one of my employees, but the door opens up and the familiar head that pops in catches me off completely off guard. I lower the phone, watching as North Carolina’s lieutenant governor Samuel Sanchez enters my office. He’s dressed impeccably, not a stain or lick of lint on him. His hair is dark and curly, cut short just around the ears and full-bodied at the crown of his head. His skin is like Daphne’s husband, tan and smooth. He steps inside with a smile gracing his lips and my heart catches speed.

“Sam, what are you doing here?” I ask, rising in my chair.

“Came to see you, Jo. How’s everything?”

I swallow. “You couldn’t have called first? People probably saw you.”

“What’s wrong with the LG popping up to support a local business?” Sam tips his head, approaching the desk, and it’s now that I feel like my office is too small. There are three floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a park, where people take their dogs for walks or children to play. Some even have picnics. Couples walk hand in hand with cups of coffee or, luckily, tea from my boutique. Though my windows are tinted, I feel like everyone can see me. Us.

Samuel takes a step closer, and I raise a hand. “Please. We can’t do this here,” I murmur.

“Okay.” He stops, but his cologne wraps around me instead. I lift my chin, finding his brown gaze. He’s smiling, that same stupidly handsome smile that got me the first time. “You sure that’s what you want?”


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