DALTON
The city never slept. Unfortunately, neither did I.
Emails stacked like a game of Jenga on my screen, each one a new demand, a new decision. Numbers, deals, projections it all blurred together into one endless symphony of efficiency and expectation.
"Elaine," I said without looking up, "cancel the 10 A.M. briefing with Parkson. I'll review his proposal myself."
"Yes, sir," came her crisp reply through the intercom.
I preferred it that way. Alone. Controlled. Efficient.
People only slowed me down.
The phone on my desk buzzed. Darcy's name flashed on the screen. My youngest sibling and the only human being who could interrupt my morning without being immediately incinerated.
I leaned back in my chair and answered. "Shouldn't you be in class?"
"Shouldn't you be smiling for once?" she shot back cheerfully. Her voice, bright and teasing, softened something in my chest I'd never admit existed.
"College isn't paying you to monitor my emotional range," I said dryly.
"Maybe it should. You're a health hazard, Dalton."
I could hear her laughing, papers rustling on her end. "Anyway, I just wanted to check in. Midterms are killing me. And Mom's been calling. She says you missed her dinner invitation again."
"I didn't miss it," I corrected. "I ignored it."
Darcy snorted. "Same thing. You two will never make peace."
"She and I have very different definitions of peace," I said, flipping through the morning's financial summary. "How's Darren?"
Her tone shifted, just slightly. "Still Darren. Still thinks the world spins around him."
I smirked. "Then nothing's changed."
We danced around the name neither of us said Tiffany.
The woman who'd turned our family into a battlefield. The reason Darren and I couldn't be in the same room without someone bleeding verbally or otherwise.
Darcy sighed. "You know, you both could at least try.."
"Darcy." My tone cut the thought cleanly. "Don't."
"Fine." A pause. Then, brightly again, "So, any girlfriend updates?"
"No."
"Any dates?"
"Never."
"Any emotional growth whatsoever?"
I allowed myself the faintest hint of a smirk. "I've outgrown emotions. They're inefficient."
"God, you're hopeless," she said, laughing again. "You need to live a little. You're thirty, not sixty-one."
"Remind me to send you a memo on boundaries," I said, standing. "It's time for my coffee."
"That's code for avoiding personal questions, isn't it?"
"Always," I said, and ended the call.
The truth was, I didn't "need" coffee. I just needed control the ritual, the quiet, the predictability. The café near Graystone Tower was three buildings away, which made it convenient. Walking there gave me five minutes to clear my head before diving back into chaos.
I pressed the intercom. "Elaine, I'll be stepping out for a short coffee break. Hold my calls."
"Would you like me to have the driver ready?"
"No. I'll walk."
A pause surprise. I didn't walk anywhere. "Understood, sir."
The morning air was crisp, the kind that bit at your lungs and cleared your thoughts. People moved fast on the sidewalks, heads down, purpose carved into every stride.
I liked that. The order. The rhythm.
When I reached The Grind, the bell above the door chimed. Warm air, coffee, conversation. The smell was familiar, comforting. My usual server Hannah wasn't at the counter, though a short, efficient woman who knew exactly how I liked my coffee.
In her place stood someone else.
Not the guy from yesterday either.
Someone new.
She was… unexpected.
Dark hair pulled into a messy braid, eyes sharp but kind, skin kissed with sunlight. Her uniform hung a little loose, like it wasn't made for her. There was something real about her that didn't belong in this place polished within an inch of its life.
She didn't look like the others. Didn't act like them, either.She was naturally breathtaking even from a far. She looked younger like a college student.
Her gaze met mine beautiful steady, defiant. Not the nervous flutter I was used to.
"Good morning," she said smilling, voice calm but bright. "What can I get you?"
It was simple. Harmless.
But something in me stilled.
I shouldn't have cared. She was an employee. Disposable, replaceable, irrelevant. But for a moment, it felt like she'd tilted the room on its axis.
I let the silence stretch. I always did. People filled it, fumbled through it, exposed themselves in it.
But she didn't.
She just waited.
Then, when the tension finally broke, I said evenly, "Are you planning to keep staring, or are you going to make my coffee?"
Her mouth parted slightly shock, maybe annoyance. "I...sorry, I'm new."
"Clearly," I replied. Her voice didn't shake, but her eyes flashed.
Good. I preferred when people showed what they felt. It made them easier to read.
"You're also wasting my time," I added. Because that's what they expected of me: control, precision, impatience.
She blinked, then smiled. Not a real smile. Something sharper. "My apologies, Your Highness. What does royalty drink these days?"
My brows rose.
Did she just...?
Does she not know who i am?
Every barista in the room froze. One dropped a cup. Another literally ducked behind the counter.
She looked me straight in the eye, waiting.
I almost laughed. Almost.
I hadn't heard anyone talk to me like that in… years.
"The usual," I said, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me amused.
"I'm new," she said, still smiling like she knew exactly what she was doing. "You'll have to be specific so we can stop wasting both our times."
She was right. I hated that she was right.
Before I could answer, Ben..the jittery one that served me yesterday blurted out, "He means double espresso, no sugar"
She shot him a quick, grateful look. "See? That wasn't so hard."
There it was again that spark. She wasn't scared.
She was irritated. Bold. Too comfortable.
I cant wait to break her.
And somehow, I couldn't look away.
She worked fast. Her movements weren't perfect slightly unpracticed but confident enough to hold my attention. The smell of espresso filled the air, rich and dark, and when she handed it to me, her fingers brushed mine for half a second. Warm. Steady.
"Here you go," she said.
I took a sip. Perfect temperature. Perfect bitterness. No sugar. Exactly right.
How the hell…?
The corner of her mouth twitched like she was waiting for me to complain. I didn't.
Instead, I said, "Bring me the manager."
Her composure slipped for the first time. She hesitated. I saw her pulse jump at her throat. "Are you deaf, or just slow?" I asked.
"Neither." She said tightly, "I'll get her."
It came out harsher than I meant, but I didn't take it back. People respected cold more than kind.
She left to find the manager. The rest of the café waited like an audience before a storm.
Mel arrived seconds later, adjusting her shirt nervously. "Mr. Gray! Is there a problem?"
I looked at her, then at the girl Aria, according to her name tag. But I like being rude so...
"From now on, Whatever her name is, will be making my coffee. No one else."
Both of them froze.
"What..why?" Mel stammered.
"She's the only one who got it right," I said simply, then walked out.
The door shut behind me. The cool air hit, grounding me.
For the rest of the walk back, I replayed the moment in my head. Her eyes. Her voice. The way she didn't flinch when I snapped.
Unfamiliar. Unnerving.
By the time I reached my building, irritation crept back in.
Why the hell was I even thinking about her?
Elaine was waiting at my office door when I returned. "You were gone longer than usual," she said, tone edged with curiosity.
"There was a new barista," I said curtly.
"Ah. The usual disaster, then?"
I paused. "No. She got it right."
Elaine blinked. "That's a first."
I ignored her and sat down. But the taste of the coffee lingered clean, rich, precise. Exactly how I liked it.
And the memory of her voice lingered too.
No one ever talked back to me. Not employees. Not investors. Not anyone.
Yet somehow, a girl in a cheap uniform with steady hands and stubborn eyes had managed to crack through a layer I'd spent years perfecting.
I should've been angry.
Instead, I was… curious.
Which was worse.
I stared out the window, jaw tightening. "Get me everything on the café's staff list," I told Elaine. "Especially the new one."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't question me. "Right away, sir."
As she left, I exhaled slowly, pressing my thumb against the edge of my desk.
This was nothing. Just curiosity. She was no one special.
Still, when I picked up my coffee cup again, I caught myself whispering her name under my breath.
Aria.
The beauty who talks back.