CHAPTER 189: CHAPTER 189 DESSERT FOR BELLA

Leo tilted his head slightly, processing every word.

"And she likes when people notice little things. Like when someone brings her favorite pastry or asks if her hand is still hurting, or just... shows they care in small ways," Jay added, suddenly softer.

Leonorado stood, tall and calm, his black shirt fitting perfectly as he rolled down his sleeves. "Then I’ll get her something sweet."

Jay grinned. "You’re going to the bakery?! My brother, the cold mafia CEO, buying cupcakes in public?! This is legendary!"

Leonorado shot him a warning look. "Don’t follow me."

"Oh, I won’t," Jay smirked. "But I might secretly film it for future blackmail."

As Leonorado brushed past him, adjusting his watch with slow, effortless grace, Jay called after him, "Make sure it’s pink! Bella loves pink things!"

Without looking back, Leonorado replied, "I know."

And Jay just stood there, mouth open in disbelief. "He knows. Oh god. He’s already gone too deep."

***

In Sunshine Heart Bakery, the warm scent of vanilla and sugar filled the air, mixing with the soft hum of background music. The little bell above the glass door had chimed when Leonorado stepped in, instantly drawing every pair of eyes toward him.

It was his first time in a bakery-café like this, and he looked wildly out of place—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a fitted black shirt that stretched perfectly across his frame, sleeves rolled just enough to show strong wrists and the glint of an expensive watch. The sunshine spilling through the glass windows caught on the sharp lines of his jaw, making him look like he belonged in a luxury magazine, not surrounded by pastel décor and cupcake stands.

A group of girls seated by the window froze mid-bite, their chatter forgotten as their wide eyes followed him. Someone nearly dropped her coffee. Another whispered to her friend, "Is he... a model?" But Leonorado didn’t notice or maybe he didn’t care. His brows were already drawn together in slight irritation as he stood in front of the glass display, scanning rows and rows of tiny cakes, cupcakes, macarons, and pastries... all perfectly decorated in pinks and reds.

They all looked the same.

He leaned slightly closer, studying them like they were suspicious business contracts instead of desserts. Which one would she like? The strawberry cupcakes had swirls of pink frosting, but some had chocolate drizzle, some had berries on top, others were shaped like tiny hearts. There were strawberry cheesecakes, strawberry shortcakes, even something called "Strawberry Bliss Cloud," which sounded more like perfume than food.

The longer he stared, the deeper his frown became.

"Sir, what would you like to have?" a polite voice interrupted. A young waiter had noticed the tall, intimidating man who’d been standing there for far too long without ordering.

Leonorado turned his head slightly, his deep voice calm but deliberate. "Which is the best strawberry cake here?"

The waiter brightened immediately. "Our best-seller is the Roseberry Dream. Soft strawberry sponge, cream cheese frosting, fresh berries on top. But the Strawberry Bliss Cloud is also popular—it’s lighter and sweeter."

Leo’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. Bliss Cloud? It sounded ridiculous. But... maybe Bella would like ridiculous if it tasted good.

"Both," he said finally, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The waiter blinked. "Both... full cakes?"

"Yes," Leonorado replied without hesitation, his gaze already moving to the shelves of gift boxes. "And... pack those small ones too. The pink ones with the heart."

"You mean the Valentine’s cupcakes?"

Leo paused. "...If they’re sweet, yes."

The waiter, slightly flustered by the striking man’s intense stare, quickly noted everything down.

As the cakes were being boxed, Leonorado’s mind wandered for a moment. He had no idea if Bella would like any of this—he wasn’t the type to buy pastries, and he’d never cared enough to remember anyone’s favorite flavors before. But for some reason, just imagining her opening these boxes and smiling made his chest feel strangely lighter.

When the waiter returned with the bags, Leo simply paid without looking at the price and left the bakery, the sunlight catching on his dark hair as he stepped outside.

The paper bags rustled softly in his hands, the faint scent of strawberries and cream drifting up with every step. Leonorado glanced down at them, frowning slightly. What am I even doing? He had brought sweets for her—enough to make her happy, enough to maybe make her stop ignoring him but now another question burned in his mind. How the hell do I even give them to her?

Sliding into the backseat of his car, he rested the bags beside him and leaned his head against the leather seat. The sunlight poured through the tinted windows, brushing over his sharp features, but his thoughts were anything but calm. He never hesitated like this—not in business, not in danger, not even when putting a bullet in someone’s skull. And yet, here he was, heart beating faster than it should, just over the thought of handing a girl a few cakes.

He shook his head, shutting his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. By the time he reached home, the sky had already begun to dim, streaks of orange and pink spilling across the horizon. Stepping inside, he noticed the faint sound of the television coming from the living room.

Bella was curled up on the couch, eyes on the screen, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders. Before she’d come here, that TV had been nothing more than an untouched decoration in this house—he couldn’t even remember if it had been plugged in. But now, the remote sat on the armrest, a half-folded blanket lay draped over the couch, and the coffee table had a small mug with a faint ring from earlier tea. The place... felt lived in. Because of her.

He stood there for a moment, watching her, the bags still in his hands. Something in his chest tightened—an unfamiliar, uneasy warmth that made him want to look away but also keep looking.

"Bella," he finally called, his voice deeper than usual.

She turned her head, surprise flickering in her eyes, as if she hadn’t expected him to seek her out. But she didn’t say anything—only pressed her lips together, her attention quietly returning to the TV.

He cleared his throat, almost too quickly blurting, "On the way... I brought dessert."

And before she could respond, he set the bags in her lap and walked away, his pace faster than it should have been. He didn’t even look back to see her reaction.