“Good morning,” I say to Harper.
She pokes her head out from behind the counter, a large bag of coffee beans in her arms. “Mornings are for losers.”
I grin. “That’s why Alex schedules us for the early shifts.”
“True.”
“Do you need help with anything before we open?”
She shakes her head. “No, just do your tidy up thing. I’ll be ready in a moment.”
“Okay.”
I walk over to the hooks on the walk and grab my apron, tying the ends in a bow. Then I retrieve the newspaper I picked up on the way here and set it on the table for Mr. Bailey. Afterwards, I wipe down every table and the countertops, although I’m sure my boss did that before he left for the night. Even so, I can’t help it. I like for things to be orderly and neat.
With the sugar, artificial sugar, and raw sugar packets arranged alphabetically in their containers, I place them on their designated tables. Lastly, I refill my hand sanitizer. The scent of lemon engulfs me, and I smile.
“Is that happiness on your face because of a man?” When I shake my head, Harper slaps her forehead. “Don’t tell me it’s because of the sanitizer.”
I shrug. “I like the way it smells. Clean and fresh.”
My friend clicks her tongue in admonishment. “Girl, we’ve got to get you a man. Wait.” She snaps her fingers. “What about that hot lawyer from yesterday?”
“No way.”
“Why not?”
“I already told you.”
Harper plants a hand on her hip. “You don’t have to like him. You just have to fuck him.” She moans, closing her eyes and licking her lips. “I bet you’d need both hands to fist him and that he fucks like an MMA fighter on crack: hard, fast, and so, so good.”
“I’m not interested in getting my ass whipped.”
She bursts out laughing. “You actually cursed. Nice. But seriously, I’d be all over him if he weren’t yours.”
My gasp is loud in the coffee shop. I drop my gaze to the register and rearrange the bills inside. Alex never has them facing the same way like they should. “Mr. Bennett isn’t mine. Honestly, what happened yesterday was a coincidence. I doubt we’ll ever see him again.”
“Maybe.” Harper huffs. “If I’m right and he shows up here, then you have to flirt with Mr. Be-my-lawyer-daddy Bennett. If you’re right, then you have to promise to go out with me sometime so I can find you a man.”
I chew my lip in thought. I’m supposed to start my job at T&A tonight, and I have no idea what my schedule is going to look like going forward. The last thing I want to do is plan something with Harper and then bail. Or for her to find out why I can’t go in the first place.
“I’m not in love with either of those options.”
She glances at the clock. “It’s almost 6 a.m. Bleh. To be continued.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Harper dashes to the door and unlocks it to let the early birds in. She returns to stand behind the counter and winks at me.
“Good morning, Mr. Bailey.”
The shift begins like it always does, and I settle into the workday by assisting the regular customers. Some people hate routine, but I find it soothing. Knowing what to expect removes the anxiety of the unknown.
“Phew,” Harper says, wiping her forehead several hours later. “The brunch rush was worse than yesterday. We’ll have to get Alex to hire someone else to help us. I’m not trying to get yelled at everyday just because the line is long.”
“I know.” I snatch up the dish rag and wipe the counter to remove a pile of crumbs. “At least we didn’t have any issues like yesterday.”
“True. Do you want to take your break now?”
I frown and look at her over my shoulder. “Why would I? It’s not time yet.”
“Oh, yes it is,” she says in a sing-song voice. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bennett! It’s great to see you again.”
My entire body goes statue-still, shock paralyzing me. I didn’t expect him to come back, but now that he has, I need to gather my composure. At least enough of it to avoid acting like an idiot.
“Welcome to the Sugar Cube,” Harper says, her voice carrying threads of impishness that makes me want to smack her. “What can I get you?”
After taking a fortifying breath, I slowly lift my head, refusing to cower before him—only to find his gaze is already on me. Whatever air I pulled into my lungs leaves me in a rush.
“Nothing,” he says. “I’m not here for sustenance.” The man tilts his head, his gaze boring into me. “I need to speak with Miss Green.”
“Okay.”
“No way.”
With both of us answering him at the same time, the responses are a jumbled noise. I clear my throat and square my shoulders. “There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
Harper swings her gaze to me, her lips parted in surprise. But I ignore her. Bennett has my undivided attention. I’m not sure I could look away even if I tried.
He tilts his head. “Are you telling me that you don’t want to find your father’s killer?”
I can feel all of the blood rushing from my face, bringing stars to my vision. When I sway on my feet, Harper throws her arms around my shoulders. Right as Bennett reaches across the counter for me.
My friend shoots him a dirty look, and he retracts his hand. Then she pats my cheek, her gaze clouded with worry. “Are you all right, honey?”
“I’m fine.” After taking a deep breath, I give her a wobbly smile and step away from her supportive embrace to prove it. “Give me a moment to sort this out, okay?”
She nods. “Take all the time you need. And here…” Harper rushes to the display case and slides the glass door open before returning to my side. “Take this cake pop and eat it, before your blood sugar drops again.”
I’d love to blame my response on something medical, but that’s far from the truth. The real reason for my uncharacteristic display of weakness is due to the man staring at me from across the counter. The one who I’d hoped to never see again.
I take the dessert from Harper, unsure if I can eat anything while my stomach churns mercilessly, but for her, I’ll try. “Thanks.”
Without bothering to remove my apron, I walk from behind the counter and over to a vacant table that’s far from the other customers. Bennett appears on the other side of the small table, his movements unhurried and refined as he seats himself in the chair across from me. This man doesn’t belong in a coffee shop like this, sitting in a plastic chair like an ordinary person. He’s too… everything.
Handsome.
Powerful.
Intense.
He belongs in a high-rise building, a courtroom, or even a mansion, but not here. And certainly not with someone like me who’s powerless and so poor that it’s embarrassing. We might’ve come from the same world of money and influence, but now we’re oceans apart, two people whose paths should never cross.
So why is he here?
I sweep my gaze over his features, taking in every harsh line and smooth contour of his face, illuminated by the sun’s rays streaming through the windows. In this light, he appears less severe, less menacing. Only it’s just a trick, an optical illusion. This man wears darkness like a woman wears perfume, leaving a trail wherever he goes.
We continue to look at one another, and his gaze bores into me. Almost like a physical touch. It takes every bit of fortitude that I have to hold his stare. His light blue eyes are like twin ice picks, stabbing me again and again, searching for something deep inside me. Something I don’t want to give.
Time becomes irrelevant as we sit like this for seconds or even minutes, each one studying the other. I refuse to be intimidated by him. Sure, he unnerves me, maybe even scares me, but my anger on my father’s behalf is enough to keep me from running.
But God, how I want to.
I nearly flinch when Bennett rests his hands on the table and steeples his long fingers. “Miss Green, what do you know of your father’s… interests?”
The sound of his voice, deep and sensual, has my heart stuttering in my chest. Irritation causes my cheeks to warm. “Why are you asking me this?”
“I ran into a friend of yours recently,” he says, his tone threaded with sarcasm. “Mr. Calvin, I believe?”
Hearing the familiar name makes my blood run cold. “And?”
“And he was very eager to part with some information pertaining to Senator Green’s murder.”
“Why would he do that?” I massage my temple with one hand while gripping the cake pop stick in the other. “Everything was supposed to be confidential.”
“The man is an opportunist,” Bennett says. “It’s public knowledge that I was involved in your father’s trial, and that case was one of the few I’ve lost in my career. Mr. Calvin presented me with your file, hoping to entice me with the things he learned. It worked.”
I grip the stem of cake pop so tightly my knuckles lose their color, becoming as white as the vanilla dessert. “I still don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”
“I’m taking over the investigation.”
“No.” My denial comes out as a whisper, a mere puff of air, but it’s all I can manage.
“Weren’t you searching for your father’s killer?” When I nod, Bennett quirks an ebony brow. “Are you telling me you don’t want to bring the killer to justice?”
“I do, but not with you.” The words rush from me before I can stop them, propelled by my unease. And something I won’t acknowledge. “I’ll do it on my own or not at all.”
“Miss Green, I wasn’t giving you a choice.”
My lips part on a gasp, half in surprise and half in outrage. I squint up at him and lean forward, despite my body trembling. “I’m not giving you one either. There’s no way I’ll work with you.”
“Even at the cost of never knowing?” he asks. When I nod, his lips thin with displeasure. “What if I were to tell you that I’ve already made headway, but in order to continue further, I need your cooperation?”
I shake my head. “I don’t care. This conversation is over.”
His gaze flashes with disbelief right before his hand shoots out and wraps around my wrist. The cake pop wiggles in my grasp as the heat from his touch sears me. I tug on his hold, but it’s like trying to free myself from an iron manacle.
“Let go of me,” I say between clenched teeth.
“Not until you’ve heard me out.”
Bennett leans forward and pulls me to him at the same time. Everything within me screams for me to get away, to gain some distance, but like a flightless bird, I can’t do anything except stare at him. Now he’s so close I can see the flecks of ice in his eyes, the blue so hypnotizing I momentarily get lost in his gaze.
“Call it morbid curiosity, or blame it on my ego,” he says, his voice dark, laced with an uncharacteristic urgency, “but I need to uncover the mystery surrounding you.” He clears his throat. “I mean, your family. I’m willing to do this free of charge. All you have to do is answer a few questions.”
I yank my wrist from his hold, unable to think with his fingers on my skin. Then I plop the cake pop into my mouth in order to give myself a brief reprieve, a few seconds to gather my thoughts before I answer him. I twirl the stick, and the sweet dessert glides over my tongue as my blood sugar spikes and my mind spins.
If I let him help me, I’ll have to converse with a man I dislike intensely. And divulge some personal information. While I’ve already done that with the private investigator, it feels different with Bennett. I can’t explain why giving him access to my life unsettles me in a way that goes beyond mere nervousness. The idea leaves me feeling empty and vulnerable, as if I’ve sold my soul to the devil.
On the other hand, I can’t afford to hire Calvin anymore, and having the lawyer work on my case for free is very appealing. Plus, Bennett has money and contacts that the P.I. doesn’t. If anything, the man in front of me is a better choice overall.
Then why can’t I bring myself to accept his help?
Because I don’t believe him.
He’s lying to me. I don’t know in what way, or why, but he is. I’ve always relied on my intuition, even when I was comfortable and safe back in my old life. However, now that I’m constantly fighting to survive, I rely on my gut more than I ever did.
It’s the reason I can sense danger in Bennett. The expensive suit and beautiful face are meant to distract, to lure unsuspecting prey. I might be in a precarious situation, but I can’t let this man completely destroy me.
And he would.
I swallow the sugar coating my tongue in preparation to speak. Bennett’s focus, riveted on my mouth, never wavers. My throat seizes at the glimmer in his eyes, the blue like fresh snow, bright and sparkling. I lower the cake pop, and it grazes my lips, leaving behind a trail of stickiness.
He follows my every movement with his gaze. His nostrils flare once, and he slides his hands from the table’s surface to place them in his coat pockets. Then he stiffens, his entire demeanor morphing into that of a marble statue, hard and cold yet still beautiful to look at.
A masterpiece.
“What is your answer, Miss Green?” His tone is harsh, like a slap to the face. “My patience has come to an end.”
“No.”
He narrows his eyes, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from changing my response. “Are you certain?” he asks.
I nod and point at the door with the cake pop, the white outer layer nearly gone. “Thank you for your time.”
He gets to his feet and adjusts his coat, bringing the ends together with a harsh snap of the material. “Should you change your mind, here’s my information.” He slaps a business card on the table. The letters and ink on it are like him: bold, harsh, and pristine.
I slide the card in his direction. “I won’t change my mind.”
He doesn’t move to pick up the item, nor does he look away from me. Inside, I’m wilting under his intense stare. The man doesn’t say a word, but it’s like he’s threatening me with his stance and his facial expression. That only hardens my resolve to be done with him.
I get to my feet, ignoring the shaking of my legs, and place the cake pop inside my mouth, a sign that this conversation is over. Somehow—which I highly suspect has to do with a sugar rush combined with adrenaline—I make it back to the register without tripping and falling. When I look up, Bennett is gone.
So why am I not relieved?
