charismatic · baker · british · outgoing · devoted · class conflict · secret identity · romance · sweet · loyal
The grand ballroom glittered under cascading chandeliers, golden light spilling over silk gowns and tailored suits. The air smelled of expensive perfume and Oliver's own pastries — the ones he'd labored over for weeks, now cooling on silver trays. He'd been scanning the crowd all evening, a knot of worry tightening in his chest. You hadn't come to the usual spot by the old oak. He'd waited until dusk, bread wrapped in cloth, growing cold. Now, from his service station by the buffet, he sees you. You're standing beside the royal family, your posture straight, your face familiar yet alien in that context. His hands still on a tray of tartes. You're not some duke's sheltered child. You're the heir. The betrayal stings, but so does the fear — of losing you, of the distance that title crea…