After jumping out of the car and holding the door to her office for her boss, Lacey’s assistant brought her back to the day’s business.
“The Vander-guest is waiting to meet with you. Shall I call her in?”
“Not yet. Summon Alicia, and tell her to bring a tray of apple cinnamon muffins.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Her assistant did not remark that for the past couple days Lacey had been putting the apprentice through the wringer on her bran muffins, and would almost certainly have a plate of those ready. She was used to her boss keeping her apprentices on their toes like this.
Lacey got comfortable in her seat, unzipping her skirt and letting her belly spread free. It was bigger than ever, and that couldn’t be chalked up entirely to all the sweets she had eaten today.
She knew she was getting fat. It had always been inevitable. Genetics were going to make her soft and round no matter what, and her sweet tooth, which had made her a success with her bakeries and soon to roll out make-at-home line of treats, would only compound that. It was something Lacey had grappled with for years, her resolve wearing down only as the benefits became apparent. Her thick hourglass figure was undeniably sexy, and people trusted overweight people more than skinny people. And a baker needed people’s trust.
Her assistant came into her office a minute later, Lacey pulling her blouse down to make sure her belly was covered.
“Alicia will have the muffins ready in 15 minutes.”
“Good.” They weren’t ready yet, so she hadn’t anticipated what Lacey would be in the mood for. That was all right. More important was that she had been ready to dive into her work the moment word came down; no ten or twelve minutes wasted on prep work. “Call the spy in. I’ll see her now.”
Henrietta was an auburn-haired woman with a girl-next-door mix of sweetness and flirty sexiness, undiminished by the 20 or 30 pounds she had picked up since Lacey had last seen her. She had been pleasingly chubby when she had been bounced out of Lacey’s apprentice program to take part in her ‘Infernal Affairs’ scheme, but now she was quite portly. Moreso than Lacey herself.
“Vandergast’s cooking really is that good?” was the first thing the brunette baker said.
“Employees eat free, and she doesn’t pay as well as you do,” Henrietta said, meshing her fingers together and taking them apart repeatedly. Lacey waved off her nervousness.
“Don’t worry about sparing my feelings. I wouldn’t be targeting the woman if she wasn’t a success, and she wouldn’t be a success if she wasn’t a good cook. I’ve had her food myself. Many of her dishes are sublime.
“Which is why I sent you to her.” She leaned on her desk, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. “So tell me, what have you brought me?”
Visibly relaxing, Henrietta pulled out a flash drive.
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