The next day, Destiny sits on the marble counter I’m standing over, her long legs swinging under her.
“Give me the crushed graham crackers, please,” I say.
She picks up the clear glass bowl without hesitation and hands me the crumbs I just spent the last half hour crushing before she came in.
“I thought Dad said you couldn’t make cookies?” She gives me a nervous look, flicking her gaze around the room like she’s half expecting His Highness to stroll through the door.
“Destiny, your dad can kiss my ass. Uh, no offense.” I dump the melted butter into the bowl and give it a quick stir.
“Why are you putting butter on the graham crackers?”
“To make the crust.”
“But I thought we’re making cookies?”
“Belgian cookies,” I correct her with a smile. “Key difference.”
“Belgian cookies have crust?”
I pick up the mini bar baking pan. “These do.” I spoon a lump of my buttery cracker mix into a slot. “See, now I’m going to press this down so it’s even, and that’s it. Get up and grab a spoon so you can help. There’s another pan on the other side of the counter.”
“Okay!” She slides down and fetches the spoon and pan like the good helper she is. I’m not sure why Lancaster was even worried. “Um, aren’t you afraid Dad might find out? He’s a massive hardass when it comes to rules. He could yell at you.”
“Eh, he’ll do that anyway, sooner or later. We might as well get these cookies right and cut out the middleman,” I say.
Destiny giggles, grabbing another baking pan and spoon while she sets to work.
I focus on pressing my cracker mix into the last slot and tamp it down.
“There. We’ve already preheated the oven. Once you’re done with that tray, we’ll put them both in and set a timer for ten minutes. Use the big rubber mitts—I won’t risk you getting burned.”
“Gotcha!”
After I’m sure she’s not heading for the oven yet, I run to my desk, grab the reusable shopping bag I brought with me this morning, and head back to the lab. I’m lost for a second as I scan our surroundings.
“What are you looking for?” Destiny drops a spoonful of graham cracker into her pan.
“I just realized…we have an oven but no cooktop.”
“The cooktops are in the food lab, I think.”
I blink at her. “You’re sure? I thought you always stayed upstairs?”
She laughs. “When I was little, Dad and Kate would bring me down here all the time. The food lab was always my favorite because they gave me treats.”
Such a cute kid.
If I met her anywhere else, I’d never know she’s a billionaire’s daughter.
“Why do we have an oven?” I wonder out loud.
“It’s just a roasting accessory, I’m pretty sure. Do you want me to go to the food lab and ask if we can use a cooktop?”
Frowning, I consider it for a few seconds and shake my head.
“No. We don’t totally need it right now. I want to pair a cookie with that mocha so Commander Coffee thinks it’s good to go, but I also don’t want him to know I’m working on it until I have the right cookie.”
She smiles. “You’re sneaky, Honey Badger. I like it.”
I make an exaggerated clawing motion that pulls a laugh out of her. I’m not even sure if it’s what badgers do, but since when do honey badgers care?
“Actually, I used a grill yesterday to brew the coffee. Maybe I’ll fire that up and give it a shot.”
I pull out the grill, set it up, place a fresh bowl in a saucepan on top and throw a lump of Kerry Gold from the keto coffee line into the pan, followed by cocoa and milk powder.
Destiny pops the mini bar pans into the oven and comes to watch me. “What are you doing?”
“Making chocolate. Grab two more mini bar pans, please.”
She nods and disappears like the race is on to do this in record time.
I can’t help but smile at the girl’s energy.
By the time I have a silky smooth milk chocolate, she’s back with my pans. I pick up a spatula and carefully pour melted chocolate into each slot.
“We’ll have to refrigerate this first,” I say.
“So cool. I’ve only seen someone make chocolate from scratch once, this nanny we had years ago…”
My ears twitch.
Nanny, huh? What kind of father is Cole Lancaster?
It seems like she’s turned out decent enough, but was that all him or did he have a lot of help? And where’s her mother?
“Well, it’s super simple. You just stir it over heat and let it cool to harden. But you have to be patient.” I put the chocolate in the fridge for cold drinks, fighting the urge to ask nosy questions. “So, I don’t mean to pry, but are you in summer school?”
“No, not much. It’s just an easy work experience thing for an extra college credit over the summer, plus a math class I wanted to knock out. We’re doing our job shadowing assignments and turning in a paper at the end.”
“And you wanted to shadow your dad?” I flash her a pained grin. “Brave girl. I think I would’ve picked one of the other five thousand companies around SeaTac.”
“He pretty much insisted,” she says with a sigh. “That’s Dad, though. Always obsessed with the family business and legacy and blah, blah, blah. Deep down, he really wants me to take over this place just like he did…”
“What do you want to do, Dess?”
“Hmm, good question.” A light dreamy smile lights up her face. “I’ve thought about throwing in an application at the Seattle Aquarium for a volunteer position, but Dad would flip his shit.” She clams up. “Uh, sorry.”
I can’t help but smile. “Why there?”
“The otters are the cutest, Eliza. I love ocean mammals and all the other weird creatures. Have you seen the jellyfish? Heck, if he’d let me, I’d try SeaWorld. Perfect combination, being in SoCal out of the rain. But I guess this lab isn’t so bad. At least I’m actually doing stuff. Upstairs is naptime. It’s just staring at screens, clicking around, shuffling papers. I don’t even care how many zeros are behind those numbers. Ugh.”
She’s speaking my language. I can’t imagine corporate coffee office work being exciting for any high schooler. Though I wonder, why didn’t she shadow her mom?
“What does your mother do?” I ask absently, wiping down the counter.
When I look back, Destiny’s face sinks, and those bright-blue eyes seem dull.
My stomach flips over.
Oh, no.
Clearly, I’ve stepped on a landmine. I was just making conversation. I didn’t mean to upset her.
“Nobody told you?” Her voice comes out strained.
“No, but it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything if it’s too personal. I wasn’t trying to pry. I just wondered if she’d be a better person to shadow for this school thing…”
She hesitates, twining her fingers together.
“My mom died when I was five,” she whispers.
Oh, crap. There it is.
The answer I was dreading.
Without thinking, I step forward, pulling the girl into an instant hug.
“I’m so sorry, honey. I had no idea.” I release her. “Don’t tell him, but your dad’s kinda right. I have a big mouth sometimes. I never should’ve—”
“Eliza, chill. It’s okay,” she rushes out. “It was a long time ago. I’m not upset about it anymore. I barely remember, honestly… I guess I just kind of miss her sometimes. And the few good times I remember.”
“I bet you do,” I say firmly. “Part of you always will.”
Poor, poor kid.
Poor Grumpfather.
For the first time, I realize with some horror that my demon boss is a human being with heavy life experiences that have nothing to do with commodifying coffee and yelling at people.
He lost his wife ten years ago.
He raised this wonderful young girl alone.
Maybe that’s what made his heart a charred lump of coal, infinitely more scorched than his stupid drinks.
That gives me an idea for a terrible new name. He’s a lump of Cole now.
Lump.
But I’ll hold off on that one until he does something so awful I can’t feel sorry for him anymore.
Right now, my heart feels like lead.
I almost wish I’d never asked about Cole Lancaster’s life and gotten hit by the empathy bus.
Knowing there’s a good chance that life made a tyrant out of an otherwise pleasant family man kind of sucks the fun out of harassing him.
I mean, he’s had his battles. He may have owed Wayne a fat apology, but should I really keep adding to his woes?
I try to throw myself into cleaning—saving the janitorial staff some work—while Destiny taps at her phone. She gets up and grabs a broom on her own a little while later, sweeping around my feet, doing this awkward little dance while she hums a viral song I’ve heard on TikTok.
I’m lucky she wasn’t too stressed over my dumb questions. Or she bounces back on her feet lightning fast.
Once the chocolate finishes cooling and my timer dings, I start whipping up a fresh batch of marshmallow fluff.
“What’s next?” Destiny asks, emptying the dust pan in a bin nearby.
I grin at her. “You’ll find out soon. Start popping the crusts onto plates, assuming we have any we don’t have to beg the food team for.”
“On it!” She washes her hands and gets to work.
I transfer the marshmallow fluff to a bowl, grab a couple spoons, pull the chocolate from the fridge, and set everything up beside Destiny.
“Here, check this out. You tug on the wax paper and it comes up with a chocolate bar.” I pull one out and remove it from the paper. “Add a small line of marshmallow fluff and glue it to the graham cracker crust. Voilà! Your dad has his precious graham cracker to complete the S’mores Mocha.”
“Oh, cool! Can we try it?”
“Be my guest.” I gesture at the spread of cookies.
She’s still munching away on her third cookie when Mr. Lancaster comes to pick up his daughter a little while later.
He looks at Destiny with what seems like a tired glance. Or maybe it’s just my imagination now that I know he has good reasons for being world-weary.
“Dess, let’s go. I’ve still got a heap of work to catch up on at home and I have to make dinner.”
He makes dinner? No live-in chef?
“Hey, uh—she did a fantastic job today, Mr. Lancaster,” I say carefully. “She’s an awesome kid. The work would’ve limped along much slower without her lending me a hand. I think she learned a few things, too.”
He nods with a suspicious look, like he doesn’t trust my praise.
“Good. Just make sure she doesn’t get in the way of anything major.” He doesn’t even make eye contact as he walks over to the bench against the wall to fetch Destiny’s bag—probably so she doesn’t forget it.
“Hey, wait, I was helping Eliza finish—”
“I said let’s go!” he barks.
Destiny rolls her eyes as he power walks away and then starts moving to catch up.
Beautiful.
Why did I ever feel sorry for this walking time bomb again? I want to tell him to watch how he talks to her, but she’s not my daughter.
I barely know them. It’s definitely not my place to butt into their family life.
Still, that has to sting.
I look at Destiny and whisper loudly, “You were a huge help today. Thank you so much. See ya soon.”
“Destiny, I said let’s go.” He waves at her, standing near the exit, the door propped open with his shoulder.
“Sorry,” she mouths to me and scurries away.
Jeez. His whole aura bleeds melancholy today.
I don’t think he looked at me once. What gives?
“She doesn’t get in the way, dude,” I mumble under my breath. “The lump of Cole who picks her up, on the other hand…”
He lingers at the door as Destiny walks past him.
Before he leaves, he turns his head over his shoulder and looks at me. “Don’t stay here all night. Security changes at ten. Our garage has never had an incident, but you’re still a walking insurance liability after that.”
If I punted a cookie in your face, Cole Lancaster, would that be a liability?
I don’t say it, though.
I settle for, “Piss off, Commander Coffee.”
He doesn’t even grunt in response.
Somehow, silence is worse than a parting shot.
This guy is so off-kilter.
One minute, he needs me so bad he’ll track me down through a random barista and dole out big bonuses. The next, I’m not worth talking to.
Whatever.
I’ll deal with it the way I handle most of my people problems—by eating most of the test cookies that aren’t left for Gina and the techs.
I only leave enough extras to go with the S’mores Mocha I plan on him sampling tomorrow.
I’m working on a drink in the lab when I hear the big metal door swing open.
Commander Coffee marches up behind me and throws his arms around my waist.
This should be awkward. Highly inappropriate.
But when I turn to face him, I’m smiling like it’s pure heaven.
He hoists me up and sets me on the marble counter, cupping my face with one huge hand while his big blue eyes drill through my soul.
“Eliza.” My name is a statement. A question. A promise.
“Cole,” I whisper back, a tremor in my voice.
He tilts my chin back roughly, his hand gliding to my throat.
Oh, God.
It’s so wrong, but the way my core pulses sends my moral compass spinning.
My eyes flutter shut and I forget how to breathe.
When I finally do again, he smells like salt and citrus mingled with coffee. He smells so—Cole.
When his lips crush down on mine, I’m flipping delirious.
The kiss is long and smooth and devilishly sensuous. His hands are another kind of black magic, moving up my thighs, spreading them apart, bringing his fingers to my aching center.
He leans me back against the cool marble, never breaking the interplay of teeth and tongue and so much passion.
“I’m going to fuck you now. Right here,” he whispers hoarsely. His beard rakes my skin as he pushes his mouth to my ear.
I’m trembling.
His warm hand teases my mound before running down my entire leg and coming back up again so slowly. He shoves my skirt out of the way with a guttural noise burning in his throat.
Ahhhhhh!
I’m screaming.
Actually, something else is screaming. The world’s most annoying alarm clock.
I jolt up and bang it with my fist, wiping sweat and sticky hair from my brow.
Sweet baby Jesus.
This stupid alarm steals my orgasms and robs me of sleep?
More importantly—yikes—I’ve got to get laid. It’s no question when I’m having wet dreams about Commander Coffee right after his latest grump-fit kept me up half the night overthinking.
It hurts to look at the clock.
Yep, it’s time to get moving.
I’m meeting Dakota at another homeless benefit downtown, and I promised to bring along my best cold brew.
I rush through the shower and grab my things, then arrive downtown on my bike only a few minutes late. Dakota is already there, setting things up.
“Hey! How’s the new job going? Surviving?” she asks with an amused smile.
I place the coffee urns on the table next to a box of pens and the usual rating cards.
“The job itself is pretty awesome. You wouldn’t believe the lab—it has everything, Dakota. There’s probably a coffee-powered vibrator tucked away somewhere I haven’t found yet.”
We both burst out laughing. She leans on my shoulder for support.
“You’re hilarious and you seem really happy. I love it!”
“Well, yeah. It’s a dream job, minus Commander Coffee. He’s still a massive jerkwad, but no need to waste the breath on him, right?” I say, honestly hoping she doesn’t ask. “What’s the game plan here?”
Dakota scans the table, adjusting a few signs. “Donuts are three bucks each. Coffee goes for five bucks a cup today, or they can get a donut and coffee combo for seven.”
“Those are some high-dollar donuts.”
Lincoln appears from the back, weirdly baby free. He drapes an arm around Dakota.
“Half an hour at the zoo and Ma says she’s already tuckered out.”
They share a moony-eyed moment, whispering back and forth about the baby and her outing with grandma until I clear my throat.
Yeah, these two are disgustingly cute. Hard to believe they once hated each other’s guts.
“Hey, Eliza. All proceeds go to Seattle homeless shelters today,” he says with a friendly smile.
I meet his eyes. “You’re decent—for a billionaire.”
“Thanks—I think?” He shrugs, chuckling. “I can’t give up on the homeless even after Wyatt made it out of that camp. He had me to get back on his feet. How many of them have nobody?”
Dakota grins at him. “This is small potatoes, though. A way for the people to give back. But he gives most of the profits of his company to the cause.”
I smile at him. “Nice. I’m glad to hear there’s one CEO in this city who’s not a total jackass.”
“So what did Coffee Dick do to win the hee-haw award this time?” Dakota picks up a donut and turns to Linc as she takes a gaping bite out of it. “Keep a tab for me. You can just write a check at the end of the day.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a swat on her butt.
“His teenage daughter started shadowing me for a school project…” I start, filling her in on the latest.
“Sounds rough. But I don’t know, should you really be babysitting at work if it isn’t part of the job description?” Dakota bites her donut again with the kind of appetite only a new mom has.
“She’s a sweet kid. I don’t mind. Her dad is just a hornet. He wants her to take over Wired Cup when she’s older, and she’s not interested. So she’s hanging out with me and learning all about the research side. I’m saving her from a boring stack of paperwork.”
“Smart kid,” Dakota says, sipping a coffee.
“Did you say you work at Wired Cup now?” Lincoln asks.
“Yeah.”
“Cole Lancaster?”
“You know him?” I ask, raising my brows.
“Not well. I’ve met him a few times, yeah. Think you might be the only person in the city who wants to throw a brick at his face,” Linc says with a laugh, his big shoulders rippling.
I raise an eyebrow. He’s got to be kidding.
“I find that hard to believe. The people in his stores must hate him. You didn’t see the way he talked to this barista friend of mine…”
“He can be gruff sometimes, but he gives them good performance bonuses, from what I’ve heard. I tried to steal his EA once. No salary bid would buy her, though, and when I asked why, she said the Lancasters were like family. She wouldn’t leave Cole.”
“Well, maybe, he’s different with the senior roles. I don’t know. I just know in R & D we call him a lump of Cole.”
Not quite. I call him that now. But I’m R & D, so it still counts, doesn’t it?
While Lincoln collects cash, Dakota sells a few cups of coffee, and I ask every donor for a coffee rating. I might as well gather data while I’m here.
“Hey, Commander Coffee! Over here,” Linc says loudly.
“Not funny.” I spin around and glare at him.
But what happens next is one big cosmic joke.
The Lump himself struts up like he belongs here, hefting two huge Wired Cup branded urns on the table.
“Has she been talking about me all morning?” he asks with a knowing look.
Holy no.
I must be hallucinating. But the longer I stare, the less likely it is that he’ll just go “poof” in my hallucination.
“What are you doing here?” I grind out, almost afraid to ask.
“What does it look like, Miss Angelo? Giving back to the community on a sunny morning. Nothing new. I could ask you the same question.”
“I’ve been doing this long before I knew you existed…”
“What’s this?” He motions to my coffee urns.
“A summer campfire brew with hints of watermelon. My brew, not yours. Try it.”
“Save it for another time. Wired Cup is providing the coffee here, and your brews are now confidential corporate business,” he says, not even deigning to look at me as he heaves up the worst choice of words.
“Oh, no. You haven’t actually licensed anything yet, and even if you had, you can’t claim the coffee I make in my own kitchen. Plus, you have two giant urns. When I run out, we’ll use your very reliable coffee.” I smile, knowing he’ll hate that.
“I suppose you can leave yours out. It’s probably better to have more on hand,” he says, annoyingly calmly.
Destiny appears over his shoulder, wearing a Wired Cup t-shirt. She’s leading a pack of chatty teenagers balancing a couple huge boxes on their shoulders.
I stare as the pack moves.
He glances at them over his shoulder and then looks back at me. “They need community service hours for Honor Society. And I see your rating cards—feedback from charity coffee isn’t very scientific. You don’t need to lug your brews around town anymore, you know. We have panels for taste tests I’d be happy to open for you. You’re not an amateur anymore. Welcome to the major leagues.”
It takes all my willpower not to roll my eyes.
“For the CEO of an ‘okay’ coffee brand, you’re arrogant. And what are they carrying?”
“Boxes full of insulated coffee and espresso drinks, all branded with Wired Cup’s name. Everybody wins at this event. Besides, I can serve more people than you can.”
My foot taps the ground, imagining I’m stomping his face.
“Dad! What do you want us to do with this stuff?” Destiny yells from across the room.
He stares at the table for a minute.
“Let’s put a few urns under the table for volunteers only.” He walks over and starts moving them as he’s saying it. “And then we’ll put a box of coffee and another box of espresso drinks on the table, and line the bottom with several more for easy reach. The rest are going to go to the actual Wired Cup booth.”
“This isn’t our booth?” she asks.
“No, this belongs to Haughty But Nice. I believe they’re selling donuts—which has nothing to do with fashion—so I’m not sure why they’re even trying to steal our thunder.”
“We sponsored the fashion show, but Dakota thought donuts would be fun,” Lincoln cuts in with a serious look. “I can never tell her no.”
“Wise man.” Cole grins at him with a real smile that has me doing a double take.
He just has to go from ten to eleven on the McHottie scale when he grins.
Shoot me now.
“Is Eliza coming to our booth?” Destiny asks.
“I don’t know, is she?” He looks at me.
“Nope. I’m here to help Dakota today. Sorry,” I say.
“Can I stay with Eliza?”
“No, you’re here helping your company and your friends,” he tells her.
“But Eliza is selling coffee too! It’s research, Dad.”
“Just let her stay,” I say.
He glares at me. “Sure. I always wanted to have my parenting decisions questioned by a lab tech.”
Ouch. I shrug, pretending it doesn’t get under my skin.
“And I always hoped my boss would be the surliest man in the industry. Guess dreams do come true.”
“She’ll get in the way,” he warns, walking closer and sizing me up.
“I’m fifteen, Dad! Not five. God.” Destiny stomps her foot.
“She was with me all day in the lab. I tried to tell you that before you left for the day, but you had other things on your plate, I guess,” I say pointedly.
“Fine. But if anything goes wrong—” He points at me. “You’re fired.” He points at his daughter next. “And you’re grounded.”
She jerks her eyes away, pretending to ignore him.
Good move. I do the same.
“The best part about this job is all the exercise my eyes get,” I say with an exaggerated eye roll.
Destiny giggles.
Cole glares at me and storms off, taking the other volunteers with him.
Thank God.
Destiny’s cool, but I’m not sure I could deal with that many teenagers.
When we’re alone again, Dakota leans in close, tapping my shoulder frantically. “Earth to Eliza? Where have you been? You didn’t tell me he looked like that.”
Oh, crap.
“Like what?”
She fans her face. “You know exactly what I mean. He’s a smokeshow with the whole tortured dad vibe…”
I almost gag.
But I can’t just go down this road again today on what’s supposed to be my day off.
“He seems like he’s into you,” Dakota teases with a massive grin.
Does he? I think like an excited teenager, but then I shake my head. We can’t do this right now.
“It’s not like that,” I say sharply. “Nothing like before.”
Except it’s really exactly like that, and my voice is whiny and defensive and possibly a little panicked.
I hope wincing ends the conversation.
“Oh, no. Definitely not like—before.” Dakota’s face falls. “Sorry. I was just teasing, lady. Didn’t mean to imply anything about that gross relationship with Derek. Yuck, I still can’t believe he did that to you…”
“Dakota, not here. Apology accepted.”
“I’m sorry again,” she whispers.
But maybe she’s right.
Maybe my baggage is the reason why I can’t have a single peaceful interaction with this man.
He’s a different person, but he fits Derek’s profile.
Older. Rich. Commanding. Attractive.
Maybe I’m just scared to death of ending up a sidepiece again—even if there’s a negative chance that ever happens with my boss.
I’m not nearly stupid enough to get involved with someone I work with. But maybe the similarities keep tripping some long repressed psychological switch deep in my brain.
Because even here at this charity function, we can’t have a truce.
Not when Cole Lancaster is one bad cup.
