The Billionaire Unexpected Evening

la'

slumber. Groggy, I fumble for my phone, muting the intrusive din with a swipe of my finger. Another d

or is chilled beneath my bare feet as I shuffle towards the bathroom, my mind already gallo

night. Those eyes, so profound and arcane, seem to delve into the very depths of my essence. I shake my head, dispelling the

s are strewn across the bed, evidence of my indecisiveness regarding fashion. I settle on a simple ebony dress, the fabric

. I inhale profoundly, relishing the aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted coffee beans that waft from the corn

enial and welcoming, the walls are bedecked with local artwork, and the air is resonant with the chatter of earl

my fellow barista, chir

ck of paper cups awaiting my attent

the rhythm of the work, my hands operating on autopilot as I craft latte after latte and cappuccino after cappuccino

a small ebony coffee, has his hands trembling as he counts out the exact change. The harried mother, balancing a toddler on her hip as she requests a doub

ith my customers, a mutual comprehension of the joys and struggles that characterize our existence.

hours have elapsed in what feels like mere minutes. My feet ache and my back is taut, but

up, my breath arresting in my throat as I find myself staring into a pair of alarmingly familiar eyes. It's him, the

h a mixture of exhilaration and trepidation. As he opens his mouth to speak, I know with sudden, un