The scent of roasted espresso beans and warm vanilla hung thick in the air, a sensory cocoon that felt far more intimate than it should have for a public café.
Emily Lane stepped into Café Alchemy clutching her planner and phone, needing her usual double-shot caramel macchiato like a lifeline. The week had been emotionally exhausting—rumors about Tiana, the tension in the office, and the unspoken silence hanging between her boss and Dylan. Emily had spent years being the composed one, the buffer, the fixer. But even she needed space to breathe.
Alchemy was her space.
Quiet corners. Good coffee. A playlist that always seemed to know exactly what she needed.
She hadn't even reached the counter when a familiar voice stopped her mid-step.
"Well, well... if it isn't the woman with the most dramatic coffee order I've ever seen."
Emily blinked.
Nathan Walls.
He sat at the same corner bench where she'd first bumped into him—tall, sinfully well-dressed, and smiling like he'd been waiting for her.
Again.
He wore a navy coat over a gray turtleneck, his dark curls slightly tousled like he'd just stepped off a shoot. His charm was effortless, his presence magnetic in the worst possible way.
Emily folded her arms. "Don't tell me you've started camping out here just to harass me."
Nathan grinned. "I'd call it fate, but I know how much you hate clichés."
"I don't hate clichés," she said, walking toward him. "I just prefer logic."
"Then logically, you'll understand why I'm sitting here." He gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Because last time, we never got to finish our conversation."
She raised a brow. "You mean, the conversation where you stole my coffee?"
"Borrowed," he corrected. "And then offered you a peace offering."
She considered him. "And now you're waiting to 'borrow' more coffee from unsuspecting victims?"
He leaned in slightly. "Only if they're as intriguing as you."
Emily rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now.
Damn him.
She stepped up to the counter and placed her order—her exact caramel macchiato with oat milk and a cinnamon sprinkle—before returning and sliding into the seat across from Nathan.
"I have ten minutes," she warned.
"Ten minutes is all I need to change your mind about me."
"Is that so?"
He nodded solemnly. "I'm very persuasive."
Emily gave him a long, appraising look. "What exactly do you want from me, Nathan?"
He paused—just long enough to shift the mood.
"I don't know yet," he said. "That's why I keep hoping to run into you."
It was a surprisingly honest answer. Not slick. Not scripted.
It threw her for a moment.
"So this isn't some corporate tactic to lure me away from Diamonds?"
He smirked. "Tempting idea. But no. I'm not here to poach. I'm here because you intrigue me."
Emily tilted her head. "You say that like it's rare for a woman to intrigue you."
"It is."
His eyes held hers longer than she was comfortable with.
She glanced away, heart annoyingly fluttering.
"You're not even subtle," she muttered.
"I find subtlety gets in the way of real conversations."
"Or it's a useful skill when you don't want to be predictable."
He laughed. "I'm anything but predictable."
"And yet here you are—again."
Nathan leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice softer now. "Tell me something. What's it like working for Tiana Kings?"
Emily blinked. That was unexpected.
"She's brilliant," she said slowly. "Demanding. Powerful."
"And?"
"And she doesn't suffer fools."
"Which means you must be just as formidable."
Emily hesitated.
No one had ever said that to her. Not like that. Not like it was a fact instead of flattery.
She sipped her coffee, avoiding his gaze. "I'm just good at my job."
"I think you're a lot more than that."
"Nathan."
"Emily."
She shook her head, smiling despite herself. "You flirt like it's a second language."
He grinned. "It is."
She let the silence stretch, then finally asked, "Why are you really talking to me?"
Nathan leaned back. "Because you didn't melt at the sound of my name. You didn't ask for selfies or try to network or slide your resume across the table."
"I'm not interested in your name."
"Exactly," he said. "Which makes me very interested in yours."
Emily looked at him for a long moment. Then reached into her bag, pulled out a business card, and slid it across the table.
It was clean. Minimalist. Just her name and number in small, elegant font.
Nathan stared at it.
"Personal line?" he asked.
"Work," she said.
"Ah. Still testing me."
"I'm HR-trained," she replied with a smirk. "I don't give the wolves a reason to bite."
He picked up the card carefully. "I'm not a wolf."
"You're wearing a five-thousand-dollar coat and flirting with me at 9 a.m. on a Tuesday."
He raised a brow. "That's not a denial."
She laughed softly.
Then checked her watch.
"Time's up," she said, standing.
"Will I see you again?" he asked, rising with her.
"I come here every morning."
"Then I'll be here every morning."
She gave him a warning look. "Don't make this a game."
"I'm not," he said, suddenly serious. "Games are for people who want to win. I just want to know you."
That silenced her.
She offered a small nod and turned toward the door.
"Emily?"
She paused.
He smiled again. "You forgot your coffee."
She walked back, grabbed the cup from his hand, and said under her breath, "You're lucky you're charming."
"I'm also punctual."
"Hmm."
And with that, she walked out—heels clicking, heart pounding.
**********
Outside, the city moved around her as it always did.
But for the first time in a long time, Emily Lane wasn't just part of someone else's schedule.
She was writing her own story.