DALTON
I'd had harder days.
But none that irritated me this much for absolutely no reason.
The office windows stretched from floor to ceiling, the skyline cutting clean lines across the morning light. I stood there for a while, coffee in hand, pretending it was the view that had me distracted not the sharp flash of dark hair and defiant eyes that had haunted since I saw her yesterday.
Aria.
I shouldn't even know her name. But I did. I'd seen it on her tag when she dared to talk back to me the audacity in her voice, the fire in her eyes.
Made me curious.
I should've forgotten her already. I'd forgotten better women for less.
Why can't I fucking get her out of my mind.
"Sir?"
Elaine's voice cut through my thoughts. She stood at the door, tablet in hand, immaculate as ever.
"What?" I snapped a little too sharply.
She didn't flinch. She is used to it by now. "Your ten o'clock meeting with the Northbridge investors is confirmed. They're waiting downstairs."
"Tell them to wait another ten."
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't make investors wait, Mr. Gray."
"I do when they're the ones who need me."
Her lips curved a faint, knowing smirk but she turned to go. "Understood."
When she was gone, I sat behind my desk, scrolling through the morning's reports, but the words blurred together. My focus fractured.
I hated that.
I prided myself on control every deal, every decision, every calculated movement. But lately… I couldn't shake her from my mind. That stubborn barista who'd looked me in the eye like I wasn't a man used to being obeyed.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. This is ridiculous.
Women were simple. Predictable. Beautiful distractions that knew their place in my life temporary. But this one? She was chaos wrapped in sarcasm, and it was crawling under my skin.
She was no one important.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Come in," I said, already impatient.
Elaine stepped back inside, tablet still in hand. "I found something you might want to know."
I frowned. "This better be relevant."
"It's about the girl," she said smoothly. "The barista. Aria Davis."
"What about her?"
Then she started giving the detailsof what she found out and I listened eagerly.
Aria Davis.
Age twenty-four.
Part-time barista. Emergency contact: John Davis.
John Davis that name reminds me of the only guy who cared about me when I was growing up untill I was twenty.Then he was gone.
That name it shouldn't have mattered. It shouldn't have meant anything.
But it did.
Maybe its just a coincidence.
Because once upon a time, there was a man named John Davis who drove me to school, who kept a stash of peppermint candies in the glove compartment, who told me stupid jokes when my parents were too busy fighting to notice me in the back seat.And too busy building their empire.
He'd been the only constant in a house full of chaos.
And then one morning, he was gone. Fired. No goodbye. No reason. Just gone.
I remembered asking my mother why.
She'd said, "He forgot his place."
I'd stopped asking questions after that.
Time for my coffee break.
I looked forward to this moment today, not only because of coffee but because I needed to see her again.
l fucking hate losing control like this.
The air was cool when I stepped outside. I walked three blocks, as always to The Grind.
Routine. Predictability. Control.
Inside, the same hum of espresso machines greeted me, but the energy felt different today. Lighter, quieter.
Good morning, Mr. Gray," the manager, Mel chirped, too eager.
I barely nodded. My gaze never left her. "The usual."
"Of course," she said, turning to tell Aria "You heard him, Aria."
She sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "On it."
And there she was.
Aria
For a second, the world just shifted.
She was wiping down the counter, hair slightly messy, eyes shadowed from exhaustion. There was something about her that didn't fit here too real, too human in a place designed for masks.
I felt it immediately that strange pull in my chest from yesterday. And I hated it.
She turned, met my gaze for a moment, then quickly looked away. No nervous smile, no forced pleasantries. Just silence.
Good. I preferred silence.
But something in me still reacted the same irrational heat from yesterday, the same irritation that she even existed enough to occupy space in my head.
I focused on my watch instead. "You're slow," I said, voice cool, precise.
She didn't flinch. "You're impatient."
The words were soft but sharp. Unexpected. Again.
My jaw tightened. No one talked to me like that.
I thought she had learned her lesson.Or atleast know who I am by now.
Still, she made the coffee steady hands despite the faint tremor in her wrist. When she finally placed the cup in front of me, she didn't look up.
I took it, tasted it, and damn it it was perfect. Again.
Perfectly bitter just like me.
I left without another word.
I went back to the office.
Elaine was behind me with her files
"Get straight to the point, Elaine."
She flipped a page. "Preliminary report from our London branch. Profits are up six percent. Also, you asked about employee records last night. Should I..?"
"No." The word came out too sharp. "Forget it. The name was a coincidence."
She tilted her head. "Coincidence usually doesn't make you lose sleep."
"Drop it."
Her lips curved, but she nodded. "Of course."
When she left, I leaned back, rubbing a hand over my jaw. My reflection in the glass wall looked the same controlled, unbothered, perfectly put together.
But I didn't feel like myself.
Because even now, my mind wasn't on quarterly gains or mergers. It was on her.
Which is strange.
The way her shoulders slumped when she thought no one was watching.
The dark smudges beneath her eyes.
The quiet way she said you could say that.
That girl was a complication I didn't need in my life.
I thrived on order, discipline, detachment. Those things built empires.
Compassion tore them down.
And yet when I closed my eyes, I kept seeing that medical bracelet on her wrist. The way she'd hidden it yesterday, and how today, she didn't bother trying.
Maybe it wasn't my business.
Maybe it was.
I clenched my jaw. No. I didn't care.
There were millions of Davises in the world.
And even if she was that Davis's daughter, that part of my life was long dead.
I owed her nothing.
Still…
When I left the office that evening, I found myself walking past The Grind again. Just to check the lights. Just to see if she was still there.
She wasn't.
The café was closed, the windows dark.
And for reasons I couldn't name, that bothered me more than it should have.