The next day came faster than expected. One moment it was evening, and the next, the soft orange hues of dawn had painted the skies like a lazy watercolor. The estate stirred with its usual quiet elegance, but the heart of it—Vivienne—was already gone, whisked away with her mother on their month-long retreat.
Rose stood near the grand front doors, her suitcase neatly packed and her posture straight, but her mind slightly tilted. Home. She was going home.
As expected, Laurence was there, posted like a loyal knight beside her luggage. The man gave her a polite nod, expression unreadable as usual. Rose had learned to respect the man's gift of silence.
Once everything was loaded, she stepped into the car and buckled up. The mansion slowly faded behind them as Laurence pulled away from the long, winding driveway.
A few minutes in, she glanced at the passing streets and mumbled, "Laurence, could we stop somewhere real quick? A coffee shop, maybe?"
Without skipping a beat, Laurence replied, "Of course, Miss Rose."
Sometimes Rose wondered if the man had ever said "no" in his life.
They made a brief stop at a cute, modern café tucked between a flower shop and a bookstore. Rose stepped out, stretching slightly and smoothing her shirt. She needed caffeine like a fish needed water.
The smell hit her the moment she walked in—coffee beans, warm pastries, and something dangerously cinnamon. She ordered a caramel latte, took the cup with both hands like it was a precious jewel, and turned around.
And then—bam.
It all happened too fast. One step back. One tall figure. One unfortunate splash.
"Ahh! I—I'm so sorry!" she gasped, staring wide-eyed at the large coffee stain now blooming across a pristine white shirt.
The man blinked, clearly stunned, as she frantically reached for tissues. "Let me help—I swear I didn't see you there!" she babbled, dabbing uselessly at the fabric.
He caught her hand gently but firmly. "That's enough," he said, his tone calm and smooth. "You're just making it worse."
Rose paused, meeting his eyes for the first time. He was tall. Really tall. Might be taller than Julian, she thought absently, still stunned. He had sharp features, a faint scruff along his jaw, and the kind of energy that said I don't panic—I charge toward burning buildings and make it out alive.
"I can pay you for the damage," she blurted out.
The man leaned back slightly, one brow raised. Then, with an amused glint in his eye, he leaned closer. Close enough to make her blink twice.
"Spare me a meal together," he said with a sly grin, "and I might just let this go."
Excuse me? Her mind froze for a full five seconds.
"A meal?" she repeated.
"I believe that's fair," he said with a shrug. "Unless you'd prefer to dry-clean my soul too."
Rose, still halfway in her apology spiral, sighed in disbelief. "Well… I did ask what I could do."
He pulled a sleek black card from his pocket and handed it to her. "Call me when you're free. Just don't take too long."
Before she could protest further, the man turned and walked off, raising a hand lazily in the air like he knew she was still watching.
Rose stared at the card in her hand. Then looked up. Sir, what if I was unhinged?
Shaking her head and chuckling under her breath, she climbed back into the car.
Laurence glanced at her from the mirror. "Everything alright, Miss?"
Rose held up the card. "I just got blackmailed into a date over a latte."
Laurence blinked once and drove on.
—
Back at her family home, Daniel opened the door and nearly dropped the apple he was munching on. "Rose?"
Adeline peeked from behind the hallway. "That was fast."
Rose rolled her eyes and walked in, dropping her bag. "Relax. I wasn't fired. Vivienne left for a trip with her mother. I had no reason to stay behind."
Daniel raised a brow but said nothing more. Adeline gave her a small grin and a wave before returning to her room.
Rose made her way to her bedroom with a long exhale. The day had been something.
—
Two days later, Rose was in the kitchen making lunch when Adeline appeared behind her like a well-meaning ghost.
"So," Adeline said casually, "have you thought about training yourself?"
Rose chopped a pepper and arched a brow. "I'm still thinking."
"Well, my brother's started his already."
Rose turned to Daniel, who sat at the kitchen counter scrolling through his phone like he was born with it in his hand.
"You're a lawyer," she said, skeptical. "When do you have time for all this?"
Daniel smirked without looking up. "I just know how to schedule."
Rose shook her head. "You and your spreadsheets."
—
That evening, Rose sat in her room, staring at the card the stranger had given her. Curiosity finally won the tug-of-war match in her mind. She dialed the number.
The call connected.
A calm voice answered. "Hello?"
Rose cleared her throat. "Hi. Um. This is Rose. The girl who ruined your shirt with coffee the other day."
He chuckled lightly. "Ah. My walking latte artist. Hello, Rose."
She blinked, half-smiling. "Are you free tomorrow evening?"
"I am."
"Great. Where would you like to meet?"
There was a pause, then he replied, "Velluto Noire."
Dead.
Rose almost choked. "Velluto Noire?" she repeated, her voice shaky.
"Yes. Six p.m.?"
"…Alright. I'll meet you there."
She hung up.
Then promptly screamed into her pillow.
"VELLUTO NOIRE?! WHO JUST CASUALLY DROPS VELLUTO NOIRE LIKE IT'S STARBUCKS?!"
She grabbed her wallet and stared at it like it betrayed her. "One plate of pasta there is three months of my rent, taxes, and tears!"
Pacing her room, she cursed everything—the universe, the coffee beans, gravity itself.
But a deal was a deal. She had offered, and he had accepted.
Muttering under her breath, she flung her closet doors open and began searching like a woman preparing for war.
She held up a few dresses and tossed them back with theatrical disgust. "No, no, no—what am I? A hostess? A bridesmaid? A Sunday school teacher?!"
After what felt like an hour, she sat on the floor dramatically.
"This man better order water and leave," she mumbled to herself.
Still, somewhere deep inside, a thrill was blooming. After all, a stranger who smiles after being splashed with coffee and asks you to dinner at the city's most elite restaurant?