The Billionaire Unexpected Evening

la'

itted across the counter with well-rehearsed ease, crafting lattes and cappuccinos for the dawn crowd, each one a petite showpiece of foam

in, with his flawless garb and aura of hushed dominance, strides into my sphere. His presence is like

ne that reverberates somewhere profound within me.

n my chest. "Or perhaps it's just the coffee that's irresistible," I

grand corridor rather than a humble café. "Conceivably, it's a fusion of

ur and froth, vaporize, and provide; my concentration narrows to the task at hand. Yet, out of the nook of my eye, I discer

coffee and confabulation. It's not until the horde dwindles that I permit myself an

I've filled a myriad times before. Hot coffee spills down, a chocolate casca

occupies the space between us. I'm frozen, a statue of dismay and embarrassment, as

of napkins, dabbing futilely at the damage I've inflicted. My hands qui

e of my embarrassment. "It's just a garb," he utters, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "It's

"Permit me to compensate for the cleansing," I insist, al

of his wrist. "Nonsense, Calla. If anything, this furnish

nessed before. It's disarming, and for an instant, I'm lost in the unforeseen dep

y the buzz of his phone, a reminder that his world is full of deadlines and demands.

er has stained more than just fabric. Has it colored his view of

pins me in place. "Until next occasion, Calla," he utters, and

stand amidst the vapor and the scent of coffee, I realize that the stain on his garb isn't just a

ork, the anticipation of 'next occasion' si