Falling for Rich Cappuccino

Kryzelle Rivera wiped the counter for the third time that morning, her fingers sticky from spilled caramel syrup and her apron dotted with coffee stains. It was another busy Saturday at Café Aroma, the cozy little coffee shop tucked in a corner of Makati that somehow managed to attract both regulars and curious passersby.

“Good morning, Kryzelle! You’re glowing today,” chirped Mae, her friend and coworker, stacking cups beside the espresso machine.

Kryzelle rolled her eyes playfully, adjusting her hair. “Mae, you say that every morning. One of these days, I’m going to spill coffee just to see your reaction.”

Mae laughed, a sound as bright as the morning sun streaming through the café windows. “Don’t you dare. You know how Mr. Castillo hates messes.”

Kryzelle froze mid-wipe. “Mr. Castillo? Who’s that?”

Just as she asked, the café door swung open with a soft chime, and Kryzelle’s eyes immediately landed on him.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Impeccably dressed. And annoyingly good-looking.

He was staring at the menu board like he was analyzing stock prices, but the faint furrow between his brows suggested he had no idea what he wanted. Kryzelle’s heart gave a small flutter, and she had to mentally slap herself. Focus, Kryzelle. You’re a barista, not someone in a romantic novel.

“Welcome to Café Aroma,” she said cheerfully, stepping forward to greet him.

He glanced up, and their eyes met. Kryzelle had to swallow hard. His eyes were dark, intense, and—unfairly handsome. She noticed a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and something in her stomach twisted in a way she didn’t want to admit.

“Good morning,” he replied, his voice smooth but with a hint of teasing. “I’ll have… the usual cappuccino.”

Kryzelle blinked. “The… usual?”

He raised an eyebrow, smirk widening just a fraction. “You know, the perfect cappuccino.”

Kryzelle’s face warmed. “The perfect cappuccino…” she repeated softly, almost to herself. She grabbed a cup and began preparing it, her hands working quickly but carefully. Okay, Kryzelle, don’t mess this up. Don’t mess this up.

And of course, the universe decided to challenge her.

As she reached to pour the frothed milk into the cup, her elbow nudged the small sugar container, sending it tumbling across the counter. In a heartbeat, it collided with the cup of coffee she had just prepared for Zander—yes, she now knew his name from Mae’s whispered gossip—and sent it splashing all over his crisp, white shirt.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so—” Kryzelle gasped, grabbing napkins and dashing forward.

Zander froze, the coffee slowly seeping into his designer shirt, and then… something unexpected happened. He chuckled, a deep, almost dangerous sound that made Kryzelle’s heart race.

“You’re… clumsy,” he said, tilting his head in amusement rather than anger.

“I’m—uh—so sorry!” Kryzelle stammered, kneeling to blot the coffee with napkins, but the more she tried to fix it, the more awkward it became. “I swear I didn’t mean to—”

He held up a hand, stopping her frantic apologies. “Relax. It’s just coffee. Though,” he added, glancing down at the stain with mock severity, “it’s expensive coffee. I hope it’s worth it.”

Kryzelle felt her cheeks flame. “I… I’ll make you another cup. On the house. And maybe a free dessert too?”

Zander’s smirk softened slightly. “You know, you’re making up for a ruined cappuccino pretty fast. I like that.”

Her heart leaped. Wait. Did he just… like that?

As she prepared the second cup, he leaned casually against the counter, watching her. Every movement she made, from the way her fingers twisted the handle to the careful swirl of milk froth, seemed exaggerated under his gaze. Kryzelle felt both self-conscious and strangely thrilled.

“So… are you always this clumsy with strangers?” he asked, voice low, teasing.

Kryzelle froze, nearly dropping the cup again. “I… um… only with… uh… special customers,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He raised an eyebrow. “Special, huh?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, cheeks red. “Special.”

He leaned slightly closer, close enough that she could feel the faint scent of his cologne—a mix of citrus and something darker, more intoxicating. Her pulse quickened, and for a second, she forgot all about the coffee.

“Careful there,” he murmured, voice dropping just enough that it sent shivers down her spine. “You might burn yourself.”

Kryzelle swallowed hard, heat rushing to her face, and knocked over a spoon in her nervousness. The clatter echoed through the café. Mae peeked over the counter, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

Zander chuckled again, a deep, teasing sound that made her knees weak. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I don’t mind a little chaos… especially if it comes with a smile.”

Kryzelle’s heart did a ridiculous flutter. “I… I’ll bring your coffee to your table,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.

“Please do,” he replied, voice calm but with a hint of a challenge in it.

As she carried the cup to his table, she tried to steady her breathing, but her mind was a whirlwind. He’s rich. He’s gorgeous. He’s… completely distracting.

Zander watched her approach, noting the way her eyes darted nervously and how she fidgeted with the edge of her apron. Interesting, he thought. She’s feisty, but not in an annoying way. She’s… engaging.

When she reached him, she placed the cup carefully on the table. Their fingers brushed—accidentally, of course—but enough to make her jolt and drop a napkin.

“Careful,” he said softly, smiling now without teasing. “You might start a fire if you’re not careful.”

Kryzelle felt her stomach flip. “I… I’m sorry,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Zander leaned back in his chair, watching her retreat to the counter. There was something about her—her clumsy energy, her warm smile, the way she seemed so unaware of how attractive she was—that made him want to see more.

And Kryzelle… well, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

He smirked at her from across the room, and she felt something stir in her chest that she didn’t want to name.