“What do ye want?” His brogue was distinctly Scottish.
The chocolatier didn’t give them time to answer.
“Never mind, as if I wasn’t already knowing. I’m wise to the likes of you.” He somehow simultaneously scowled at Damien but winked at her.
He swung the door wider to reveal a fifteen-foot-square stainless steel kitchen packed with refrigerators, supplies, a big stove, and a prep table from which sprouted a four-foot-tall chocolate Christmas tree. The layers of branches were darkest chocolate with milk and white chocolate decorations. Lights were represented by brilliant dots of red, green, and gold fondant.
“You so much as think of touching that and I’ll kill you. And if your blood smears a single bit of it, I’ll kill myself right here so god help me.”
It was a masterpiece and Corne
