Chapter 2

Morning light filtered through the blinds of the café, casting a light beam above the counter. Aria stood behind it, staring into her cup of coffee as though it might tell her how to save her livelihood. The eviction notice Damianhad slapped on her counter last night lay folded and refolded inside her apron pocket, edges crumpled from her restless hands.

The ovens hummed, the smell of cinnamon rolls and buttered croissants filled the space, but her chest felt hollow. Every customer who walked in, she greeted with her usual warmth, but inside she was counting every coin, every sale, every second slipping closer to the deadline when she’d lose the one thing that reminded her of her mother in this world. The had always talked about owning one together, it's just sad that the cold hands of death decided to rob her of that happiness.

By eight-thirty, a man in a sharp navy suit entered, checking his watch. “Is this Sweet Haven?”

“Yes,” she said cautiously, wiping her hands on a towel covered in flour.

“Big order for Taylor & Crest Law Firm. Two dozen assorted muffins, three trays of croissants, and one dozen of your house blend coffee.” carafe

Aria blinked. Taylor & Crest. That's that lawyer’s firm. The eviction notice guy. Her stomach twisted. “Right. Of course.”

It was money she couldn’t refuse. She packed the boxes, secured them, and loaded everything into the old delivery cart she kept at the back. As she wheeled it outside, she muttered, “Of all the law firms in this city…”

Taylor & Crest’s building gleamed like it had been polished with ambition. Glass panels stretched upward, reflecting the morning sky. The lobby was all marble floors and brushed steel. Aria felt her worn sneakers squeak too loudly, her delivery cart a poor cousin to the briefcases and tablets carried by the steady flow of associates.

“Delivery for Taylor & Crest,” she told the receptionist, trying to sound like she belonged.

“Conference room, twelfth floor. Take the service elevator.”

Aria pushed her cart into the elevator, heart pounding as the doors slid shut. The ascent was smooth and silent, safe for the complimentary music that played in the elevator. Her mind buzzed with last night’s confrontation. She could still see Damian’s sharp jaw, the way he’d looked down at her with that infuriating mixture of arrogance and something else she refused to name.

The twelfth floor opened into a hallway lined with glass-walled offices. She found the conference room, its long table surrounded by lawyers in tailored suits, their laughter sharp, their watches gleaming. She kept her eyes on the trays as she set them out, but she could feel their scrutiny.

And then...

“Miss Hudson?”

She froze, a takeout coffee in her hand stopping halfway to the table. Damian stood in the doorway, dark suit, darker eyes, every inch the man who had turned her world upside down the night before.

Of course. Of course fate would humiliate her further.

“You do d eliveries?” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it.

What a dumb question she thought. Don't all good business do deliveries in New York?

“Someone’s got to keep you sharks fed,” she snapped before she could stop herself.

A few of the associates chuckled, and Damian’s jaw tightened. For a moment, their eyes locked across the room, heat sparking between them like flint. She quickly looked away, putting down a coffee cup with trembling hands.

She cussed herself for reacting like that to a man that is trying to destroy her.

“You missed a cup,” one of the lawyers sneered. “Guess customer service isn’t part of the…charm.”

The laughter that followed burned hotter than the ovens back in her café. Aria bit her tongue until she tasted iron. She finished setting the table, lifted her chin, and walked out with as much dignity as her battered sneakers could muster.

Behind her, Damian’s gaze followed.

By late afternoon, the café was quiet again, shadows long across the floorboards. Aria sat slumped in a chair, apron undone, staring at the empty tables. She hadn’t even touched the sandwich she’d made herself for lunch.

The bell above the door chimed.

She looked up, weary. And there he was again. Damian Cole, stepping into her world a second time in less than twenty-four hours, holding a manila folder.

Aria stood so quickly her chair scraped the floor. “If you’re here to gloat, save it. I’ve had enough humiliation for one day.”

He placed the folder on the counter, his expression unreadable. “It’s not gloating. It’s business. Your landlord has instructed formal eviction. Thirty days.”

The words pressed down on her chest like weights. She didn’t argue this time. She didn’t have the energy. She just stared at the folder until the letters blurred.

Something shifted in Damian’s expression. He had expected fire again, her stubborn chin, her sharp retorts. But this quiet resignation unsettled him more than her anger ever had. The anger, he could handle but this... this was out of his jurisdiction.

“You’re not even going to fight me?” he asked, softer than he meant to.

“What’s the point?” she whispered. “You’ll win. People like you always win.”

For a moment, silence hung between them. The hum of the refrigerators filled the void.

Damiancleared his throat, his lawyer’s mask snapping back into place. “There’s a client of mine. Hosting an event this weekend. Their caterer dropped out. It pays well.”

Her eyes flicked up, excited at first, but after giving it a thought her she drew her eyelids to a squint. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need money,” he said flatly. “Take it or don’t. Makes no difference to me.”

But it did. More than he cared to admit.

Aria crossed her arms. “And what’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just work. The kind you’re good at.”

She hesitated, torn between pride and desperation. Finally, she exhaled. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Damiannodded once, businesslike. He turned to leave, but at the door, he paused.

Aria was still behind the counter, staring at him like she wanted to read the truth beneath his tailored exterior. Their eyes caught, staring for too long, too charged, the air suddenly heavy with something unspoken.

Neither moved. Neither blinked.

And for the first time since her world began to crumble, Aria felt the dangerous pull of something that had nothing to do with eviction notices or unpaid bills.

Something that could ruin them both.