Every word is measured. Every move is calculated. He doesn't ask — he arranges.I tell him to get out.

He leaves a buyout offer on my counter that would erase every debt I've ever had. I throw it in the recycling bin.

Then he keeps coming back. And he keeps coming back.

He fixes my oven without asking. He stands outside my at

He walks into my bakery before sunrise in a suit that costs more than my rent and tells me he owns my building.Attorney's office for ninety minutes in February without a jacket because I told him not to come in. He sets his watch on my counter and stops trying to buy the answer I haven't given him yet.

And I fall for him anyway — this infuriating man who is slowly learning the difference between arranging and asking.

Then I find out why he controls everything. Why he never lets go.

And now I have to decide if I can love a man like that — while I'm carrying the one thing neither of us planned for.

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