The Billionaire's Secret by Ava Miles Read Free Book Online Page A

round loaves with the letters BMB cut into the top for decoration. Many bakeries carved their initials into their bread. Margie loved the idea and planned to do it for Hot Cross Buns.
    “That is our rustic farm loaf,” Belle said. “The recipe is from Andre’s great-great grandmother. And these are our sourdough loaves, which we also bake as baguette.”
    The sourdough loaves she indicated were round, but decorated with different inscriptions. One had a rose while another showcased a tree. They were so artistic Margie almost teared up at the sight of them.
    “They’re beautiful,” she said, wishing she could trace the patterns.
    “Wait until you try one. They are pretty, yes, but they also taste divine. Our sourdough is nothing like the kind from your San Francisco, though, and Andre will tell you why.”
    “Giving away all my secrets, Belle?” a man asked from behind them.
    Margie wrested her gaze away from the bread to look at him. Andre appeared to be in his early forties, and was completely bald in that sexy way Michael Jordan and Patrick Stewart were. His body had the muscular build of a man who kneaded dough for a living. And his smile was pure gold with a dimple winking out mischievously in his right cheek.
    “Andre! It’s so good to finally meet you,” she said.
    He crossed the room and kissed her on both cheeks with an enthusiasm that made her laugh.
    “You say that now.” His wink had Belle rolling her eyes. “Let us hope you feel the same way at the end of your apprenticeship.”
    “Let me know if I need to tell him to…how do you say it in English?” Belle said. “Reverse back?”
    It took a moment for her to understand. “Throttle back.”
    “I only want to share everything I know with her,” Andre said, throwing his arms out with gusto.
    “It’s only ten days, Andre,” Belle reminded him. “He is as eager as a child.”
    “We will make the most of our time, Margie,” Andre said. “Brian tells me I must have you teach me how you make your cinnamons rolls while you’re here. He said I would revolutionize Paris with the recipe.”
    “Brian is sweet to say so.” She eyed the man’s white apron, which was streaked with flour and dried dough. Soon she would look like that every day too. “I would be happy to show you, Andre. The recipe is from the owner of the bakery I am buying. It’s been in her family for generations.”
    “As have my recipes,” he said, gesturing grandly to the wall. “Our bread is like a living, breathing family tree of our ancestors. In the quiet hours of the night, I can feel their spirits gather around me as I help them live on through my work. You will see.”
    She shivered. “That actually gave me chills.”
    Belle patted her arm. “Don’t worry about our baking spirits. They mean no harm.”
    Her chills weren’t due to fear, but rather the realization that these people understood her. On a primal level, Margie understood people had baked bread for millennia. Bread had nourished humankind since after the first hearth fires were lit. And when bread was unavailable, people starved.
    “Bread is life,” she echoed. “I believe that.”
    “Good,” Andre said, laying a hand on her shoulder and peering into her eyes. “You have an old soul. I can see that. You make good bread because of it.”
    She flushed. “An old soul?”
    “You see things. In people. In life. Bread is your way of giving back to the world, no?”
    Something powerful rose in her chest, an emotion she could not name. She thought of what she’d told Evan last night over dinner. “I…yes…bread taught me so much, and now I want to give back through my bakery.”
    Andre pulled Belle in close with his other hand, and the three of them formed a circle. “I knew you would feel the ancient power of the yeast, of the leavening, of the baking. You must in order to become a master. We are going to do great things together while you are in Paris, Margie.”
    “I’m…my heart is about