Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“Well, I'll have to introduce you to the French press," I tell him. "You know our most popular recipes at the bakery are always the simplest."
Why am I telling him this? Like he cares?
"I know. We have a spreadsheet we’ll go over later when we discuss it with your new business manager.”
I blink at him in surprise.
"What do you mean?”
“I want to build a detailed catalog,” Semyon says, his voice steady but focused. “Inventory, profit margins, the items that generate the most revenue.”
I blink, momentarily caught off guard. He’s actually talking about the bakery’s operations? I thought he only cared about the location, just another strategic asset to him. But he’s talking about profit margins like he’s genuinely… invested.
His gaze shifts to the coffee in his hand. “If you know which item drives the most profit, you can optimize production and reduce waste. The right adjustments could increase revenue by at least thirty percent.”
I lean forward slightly, reluctantly intrigued. “You’ve thought about this a lot.”
“Of course,” he replies, his expression neutral. “It’s a business. Every detail matters.” He tilts his head. “What?" he asks when he catches me staring, and it's the first time he seems curious about what my thought process is.
I shake my head. "Nothing."
Thankfully, Stefan is oblivious to the tension between the two of us and eagerly makes his move on the board without batting an eyelash. Semyon shakes his head, lifts his checker, and easily jumps two of Stefan's checkers.
Stefan's face falls, and Semyon leans in. "No. This game is not over. And even if it were, you have to know that I'm not going to take it easy on you. Your sister can mock me all she wants, but I am never going to let you win a game. When you win, you will know that you've won fair and square."
For some reason, it feels like he's talking to me.
They continue to play as my younger brother’s tongue pokes out of his mouth in concentration.
"Are you upset that I was poking around in your finances?” Semyon asks with genuine curiosity.
Stefan looks at him and then to me before he focuses back on the board.
"I guess I didn't consider the fact that you'd actually care about the bakery. I just thought you wanted the location."
"Yes, I'm interested in the location, but running a business that's thriving versus one that is barely scraping by is definitely going to be in both of our best interests. My cousin Matvei will help since this is his wheelhouse.”
I frown. I don’t know Matvei.
I purse my lips and glare at him because how dare he insult me like that?
"You look upset.” His brow furrows. "Are you upset? Why?"
He's as methodical with his human interactions as he is with his coffee making.
Jesus. Of course, I've known this about him forever.
"That's my business. My mother began that. And you're insulting me."
"What did I say that's insulting?" he asks, completely oblivious.
"You're mocking how the business is failing."
"I'm mocking nothing. I stated a fact, Anya. Save your pity party for when it actually matters. Right now, I'm going to come in and save your family's bakery. Do you want that or not?"
No, I don't fucking want it, not if it means that I'm beholden to him, but I don't say that.
"It's still my bakery."
Stefan glares at Semyon. "It’s still our bakery,” he echoes.
Uh-oh. My heart thumps.
Semyon turns his cold gaze to my brother, who doesn’t flinch but squirms a bit.
"Excellent.” He leans back in his chair, his cold blue eyes sharp. “Then why don’t you tell me which item at the bakery is most profitable? What’s the return on investment on your basic line of products? The estimated overhead costs—labor, ingredients? Are you profitable or running at a deficit? Have you seen linear growth?”
Stefan freezes, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. He looks as if Semyon is speaking a foreign language because, of course, he is.
“Running a business isn’t about guesswork. It’s about control. Precision. Without that, you’re gambling with your livelihood.” I cross my arms on my chest as Semyon rises to his feet. He looks down at the board, lifts his checker, and, in one final move, sweeps the rest of Stefan's checkers into his palm.
"Next time, pay attention," he says as Stefan’s face falls. “Put the pieces away, please,” he says quietly. “After you take your dishes to the sink.”
I feel a slight rise in my eyebrows because I never make Stefan put dishes in the sink, clean up his toys, or do anything but his homework. I stare at Stefan.
Have I been babying my little brother?
Stefan stands, takes his plate over to the dishwasher, and half tosses his dish in.
Uh-oh.
I watch as Semyon folds his arms across his chest. A part of me wishes he would stay like this, half-human in his rumpled clothing, but I know as soon as he shaves and puts on his suit, he’ll be back to cold and calculating.