The bell above the bakery door chimed, cutting through the heavy silence left by Adrien Moretti’s departure. Lena let out a long, shuddering breath, her fingers still resting on the glass counter where the blank check had been.

"Nobody move!" the lead intruder barked, drawing a heavy-caliber automatic pistol from his coat. "Moretti! Hands where we can see them, or the girl takes the first bullet."

The remaining customers scrambled frantically for the side exit, tripping over chairs in their desperate bid to escape. In a heartbeat, the cozy, sunlit bakery transformed into a tactical nightmare.

Lena’s instincts screamed at her to duck, but her eyes locked onto Adrien.

He didn't panic. There was no flash of fear in his dark eyes—only a cold, terrifying fury that seemed to drop the room's temperature by twenty degrees. He hadn't brought his bodyguards inside today, preferring to walk the streets alone, but Adrien Moretti was never truly unarmed.

"You're a long way from Naples, boys," Adrien said smoothly, his voice dangerously calm as he slowly straightened up from the counter.

"Dante sends his regards from his prison cell," the lead gunman snarled, leveling the barrel directly at Adrien’s chest. "And we're here to collect what your little baker friend stole."

The gunman stepped forward, his finger tightening on the trigger.

It happened in a fraction of a second.

Adrien didn't reach for a weapon. Instead, with explosive, calculated violence, he grabbed the heavy, cast-iron display stand holding the remaining orange almond cakes and hurled it straight into the lead gunman's face.

The heavy iron cracked against the man's skull with a sickening thud, sending him crashing backward into the glass pastry case. As the second gunman raised his weapon, Lena didn't hesitate—she grabbed the freshly brewed, scalding-hot industrial espresso pot from the machine behind her and hurled the boiling water directly into the man's eyes.

The gunman shrieked, dropping his weapon and clawing blindly at his face as steam rose from his skin.

The third intruder froze, his eyes darting between his incapacitated partners and Adrien, who was already closing the distance with terrifying speed. With a brutal roundhouse kick, Adrien sent the final man flying across the room, where he knocked against the brick wall and slid unconscious to the floor.

Silence crashed back into the bakery, heavier than before. The air smelled of burnt espresso, ozone, and spilled sugar.

Lena stood behind the counter, breathing heavily, her apron splattered with coffee grounds and flour. Adrien stood amidst the shattered glass, his knuckles slightly bloody, his breathing steady.

He looked over at her, his dark eyes instantly softening as he scanned her from head to toe. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Lena breathed, letting out a shaky laugh as she looked down at the ruined pastry case. "Though there goes our entire morning profit."

Adrien walked back to the counter, ignoring the groaning men on the floor. He picked up the velvet box containing the silver pastry scraper, which had miraculously survived the chaos, and slid it across the glass toward her.

"Consider it a business expense," he said, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his face.

Lena picked up the silver scraper, weighing its comforting, solid balance in her hand. She looked at the man who had ordered the same cake every morning until he had accidentally stumbled into her life, turning her quiet world upside down.

"You know, Mr. Moretti," Lena said, leaning across the counter until her lips were inches from his, "if you keep destroying my bakery, I'm going to have to raise your prices."