Chapter 3: The Devil Himself

I have to admit - it's one of the most impressive cakes I've ever made. I started with a classic tiered cake, then used the Cataclysm: Earth movie poster for inspiration as I decorated the layers, creating an apocalyptic scene in sugar and icing. There aren't many bakers in this world who can make a cake that's both elegant and captures the essence of a disaster film, but I'm pretty sure I've managed it. This cake could get me work for months - maybe even years.

For luck, I wear my favorite dress - a knee-length plum garment that sets off my red hair to perfection - and I pay one of my pastry assistants overtime to help me transport the cake to the events facility where they're holding the after-party. I don't have enough money to have a full-time driver, and so usually I end up doing the deliveries myself.

Which is why there's absolutely no excuse when I end up getting caught in traffic and showing up at the facility almost forty-five minutes after our designated delivery time.

I'm panicking by the time we roll up behind the facility's service entrance, and my stomach is in knots as Jilly and I grab the pieces of our cake and dash inside. I'm not sure which scares me most - the possibility of screwing up this amazing opportunity Jack got me, or the possibility of still being here when Dante shows up.

Don't think about him, I tell myself. The party doesn't officially start for another half hour. You can be in and out before then. Chances are, I'm getting myself worked up over nothing. Even if he shows up early, Dante's going to be far too busy talking to the press and celebrating the premiere of his big movie to notice the cake, let alone the girl who brought it in.

The ballroom is in chaos when Jilly and I get inside. People are rushing around, getting everything set up for what is sure to be the party of the summer. The place looks spectacular - it's draped in golds and browns and shimmery taupes, decorated with fake ruins that somehow manage to evoke the bleak setting of the movie and look beautiful at the same time. Looks like my cake will fit right in.

We get a glare and a few sharp words from the event planner for our tardiness, but fortunately he doesn't appear to have the time or patience to give us a full lecture - or to try and kick us out. We're quickly directed to the far end of the room, and we make our way through the decorators and waitstaff and security personnel to the large round table set aside for the cake. I glance around for Jack, but he doesn't appear to be here yet. When I was going over delivery details with him yesterday, he mentioned that he was hoping to sit in on the screening, but I'm not sure if he managed it. We've both been too crazy today to talk.

I always transport my tiered cakes in pieces and assemble them on-site. Jilly and I each have two tiers, and there's a box of additional sugar décor still in the van.

"Start assembling," I tell Jilly. "I'll go get the rest." I'm starting to shift into business mode, and thankfully that helps calm my nerves a little. I'm already thinking through my attack plan for getting all of the decorations on the cake quickly.

So I'm feeling a little better as I return to the van and grab the bin of sugar paste décor. And when I open the container and check on the tiny sculptures, I grow even more confident. I've made replicas of each of the film's major characters, and these tiny figurines are sure to be the stars of the cake. I slide the lid back on the bin and return inside.

On the way back to Jilly, however, I decide to swing by a kitchen or bathroom and grab some water. It's not unusual for the delicate sugar paste pieces to break in the process of assembling, so I always like to have a little edible adhesive on hand. A few bits of sugar paste dissolved in water make a quick and effective glue. I always make up a batch when I assemble a cake, just in case.

I don't know my way around this particular facility, but it shouldn't be too hard to find a sink. When I return through the service door, I glance around for a bathroom. Then I set off quickly down a hallway to the left, away from the main ballroom.

Normally I'd stop and ask someone for directions, but most of the staff are busy in the ballroom, it would seem. I push open a few doors and glance down a couple of other hallways, but there's mostly just storage back here.

How can it be this hard to find a bathroom? I twist the bin in my arms so I can glance down at my watch. Twenty-three minutes until the party. Maybe I should just forgo the glue this time and cross my fingers that I don't need to make any last-minute repairs.

But just when I'm about to head back to the ballroom, I hear a voice. Good. Someone who might be able to point me in the right direction.

I follow the voice down the hall to a door that's slightly ajar. My arms are full with the bin of decorations, so rather than knock, I give the door a soft nudge with my hip. It swings open.

And immediately, I realize I've made a terrible mistake.

I didn't stumble across a member of the staff, no - I stumbled across a couple. And I don't mean a couple having a nice friendly chat about their relationship - I mean a couple deep in the throes of something that, if this were a movie, would most definitely be rated R. And moving quickly into NC-17 territory.

We're in a storage room, and most of the room is taken up by stacks of fancy rental chairs. The man is sitting in one of these chairs, leaning back against the pearly white plastic while the woman straddles him. Her beaded gown is pushed up around her hips, and her dark, glossy hair is falling from its elaborate updo as she throws her head back and moans. She writhes against him, her hips shifting in a dance I haven't experienced in far, far too long. His hands grip her waist, digging into the fabric of her gown as if he wants to tear those thousands of little beads right off the fabric. Her hands are closed around his broad shoulders, and her fingers tighten as she quickens the undulations of her body. Another soft moan escapes her lips.

And I'm frozen in place. Stunned. I know I should move, should run out of here before these two people realize that I've walked in on them, but I'm too shocked to do anything. My feet are rooted to the floor.

The woman makes another sound of pleasure, and this time her head tilts a little further back, giving me a glimpse of the side of her face. A gasp catches in my throat as I recognize her - Emilia Torres. Star of Cataclysm: Earth. One half of Hollywood's hottest - and recently engaged - couple. I can't believe I walked in on her and Luca Fontaine going at it. The premiere must have gone very well.

But as Emilia shifts again, I catch a glimpse of the man between her thighs and suddenly my world goes cold.

It's not Luca's fingers digging into her waist. Not Luca's hips rising to meet her. Not Luca's golden-blond hair beneath her hands, not his lips hungrily devouring hers. This isn't her fiancé. But it's not some random guy either. It's Luca's brother, the last man on earth I want to see.

Dante Fontaine, the Devil Himself.