ars had

s filled the air, mingling with the sweet aroma

ows of the Pixie coffee shop, casting a

ngers still tangled in the long, dark strands of her hair as she attempted to tame it into a presentable style. Her gaze linge

ice boomed behind h

round, her he

he doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a d

my last client. My apologies." She finished twisting her hair

ou and find someone else. This is a business, after all. Unless..." he paused, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light, "unless you'd be willi

way his words slithered over her skin like a serpent. She needed this job, this sm

line. Promise, I'll be on time from now on." She turned away from him, slipping on her unif

t there was something about Roselle that intrigued him. She was different from the other women he had pursued. She was reserved, almost aloof, and y

boss's mind, headed towards the counter, her senses

backdrop to her day. She loved the art of making coffee, and the way the different flavors and aromas blended to create a unique exp

ed, approaching a customer who h

e," the man said, his

rite down the order, she felt a strange pull, a sense of recognition that sh

intelligence that seemed to assess her with every glance. He had a strong jawline, a straight nose, and lips that were set in a firm line. He was impeccably dressed in a cri

above a whisper, quickly averting her gaze. She busied herself with p

uiet confidence that both intrigued and intimidated her. She found herself wondering about hi

Marco's girlfriend, a woman known for her fiery temper and possessive nature, had arrived.

mosphere of the coffee shop. "I saw you flirting with that...that waitress

, tried to defend himself. "No, no,

She launched into a tirade, her voice rising with every word, acc

ried to protest, but her words were

ectacle with a detached amusement, his expression unreadable. He took a sip of his Americano, the

a fit of rage, lunged at Rose

ng into the stranger and sending his coffee

rrified. She grabbed napkins, dabbing at the

eyes, his gaze cold and disapproving. "Just great," he muttered, his voice laced with d

e wanted to apologize again, to explain, but the words caught in her throat. She si

d at Roselle, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "Be more careful next time," he said curtly, then turned and

had she been publicly humiliated by Marco's girlfriend, but she had also ruined the shirt of a h