COFFEE AND DESIGNER

Yuki's pov

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When I walked into CreedX Technologies that morning, every ounce of confidence I had was tightly packed into my carefully chosen outfit: a black fitted skirt that ended just above my knees, a crisp white button-down shirt, and Lily’s shimmering red pumps—shoes I swore I’d never return. The outfit was subdued compared to my usual vibrant style, but I needed to play it safe. The makeup Lily applied blended so seamlessly it felt like a second skin, softening the edges of my masculine features just enough. My name on the application? Yuyu Roman.

As I sat in the lobby, hands folded over the leather portfolio I brought as a prop, I kept my head high. I told myself, “You’ve got this, Yuki—no, Yuyu.” It had been a month of relentless preparation. Lily drilled me on how to speak, how to walk in heels without looking like a baby deer, and how to answer interview questions with enough charm to keep suspicions at bay. This was my chance. I needed this job. For Grandpa. For Suzu. For myself.

A buzz of excitement rippled through the lobby as the glass doors slid open. I glanced up and froze. Creed Malcolm. The Creed Malcolm. The CEO of CreedX Technologies, walking in like he owned the place—which, of course, he did. The man was the embodiment of charisma: tall, sharp suit tailored to perfection, with dark hair that looked soft enough to run fingers through and eyes that could pin you to the wall.

Our eyes met briefly, and my pulse spiked. I turned away, feigning indifference, though my heart raced like a caffeine overdose. “Stay calm, Yuyu,” I muttered under my breath.

The girl sitting beside me leaned in, whispering with wide eyes. “Isn’t he just the sexiest man alive?”

“To. Die. For,” I whispered back, resisting the urge to fan myself.

The receptionist called my name—or rather, my alias. “Miss Roman, the manager is ready for you.”

I stood, straightened my skirt, and clicked my way toward the office on borrowed heels. Each step echoed in my ears like a countdown to disaster.

The manager,the same poised woman in her forties, gestured for me to sit. Her tight smile was more business than warmth, but I matched it with one of my own.

“Good morning, Miss Roman. Let’s start, shall we?”

The questions were straightforward at first: my qualifications, past work experiences, and familiarity with tech. I leaned into the script Lily and I rehearsed a hundred times. My answers were polished but peppered with just enough personality to seem authentic.

“What do you think makes a good receptionist?” she asked.

“Patience,” I answered with a smile. “And a killer ability to juggle twenty things at once without breaking a sweat.”

She chuckled, jotting something down. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly. Maybe I could pull this off.

She asked a few more questions, including hypothetical scenarios about handling difficult clients. I made my voice softer, more melodic, and even tilted my head at the right angles, like Lily had taught me.

Finally, the manager leaned back in her chair, eyeing me closely. “You seem…familiar.”

My throat tightened. “Oh?” I kept my voice light, my expression neutral.

“Yes, have we met before?” Her brow furrowed, as if she were piecing something together.

“No, ma’am. I don’t believe so,” I said quickly, smoothing my skirt. “Maybe I just have one of those faces?”

She studied me for a moment longer before nodding. “Well, Miss Roman, you’ve impressed me. The position is yours. Welcome to CreedX Technologies. You’ll start Monday.”

I blinked, barely processing her words. “I got the job?”

She smiled and extended her hand. “You got the job.”

As I shook her hand, relief flooded me. I thanked her profusely, my voice just shy of cracking from excitement. I whispered to myself, “I freaking did it.”

---

As I strutted out of the manager’s office, holding my portfolio like it was a trophy, I glanced at the girls still waiting in the lobby. Most of them were either fixing their makeup, scrolling on their phones, or fidgeting nervously. A wicked grin spread across my lips as I turned toward them and held up a single finger—the universal "screw you" sign.

“Might as well go home, losers,” I announced with a dramatic flourish. “I got the job. Boo hoo. Better luck next time!”

The mix of glares and shocked gasps was everything I’d hoped for. One girl rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. Another whispered something to the girl beside her, but I just laughed and kept walking.

“God, I’m amazing,” I muttered under my breath, already imagining Lily’s reaction when I told her the news.

But, of course, the universe couldn’t let me enjoy my moment of triumph. Because just as I glanced back one last time to soak in the disapproval radiating from the lobby, I collided with a wall. No, not a wall. A person. A very expensive-smelling person.

The collision sent a hot splash of liquid down my arm, soaking into the pristine white fabric of my shirt.

“Are you blind?” a cold voice snapped.

I looked up and immediately wished I hadn’t. Creed Malcolm. The Creed Malcolm. Up close, he was even more devastatingly handsome—and ten times more terrifying. His jawline could cut glass, his eyes were like glaciers, and his tailored suit was now sporting a large coffee stain.

“I-I’m so sorry!” I stammered, reaching instinctively to pat his suit, only to realize that touching him might make things worse. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, and—”

He held up a hand, silencing me instantly. “Don’t. Just don’t.” His tone was as icy as his stare.

Okay, this was bad. Really bad.

“You—” he gestured vaguely at me, his eyes raking over my outfit with thinly veiled disdain “—are a cheap, lazy dog who doesn’t understand pure luxury. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This is a bespoke suit. Hand-stitched. Italian.”

“I mean, it’s just coffee,” I said, attempting a sheepish grin. “Maybe a little dry cleaning? Or—”

“I should charge you to get it fixed,” he cut in, his voice sharp enough to flay me alive. “But something tells me you couldn’t afford it. Tell me, did you even pay for those shoes, or are they borrowed?”

The audacity. The sheer, unfiltered audacity. “Excuse me?” I said, my voice rising an octave. “First of all, these are vintage. And second of all, who just carries around a full cup of black coffee without a lid, huh? If anything, this is—”

“Your fault,” he interrupted, glaring down at me. “Now, here’s a little advice: Get your act together, or get out of this building. People like you don’t last long here.”

My jaw dropped. People like me? What was that supposed to mean?

But before I could retort, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me standing there with a damp sleeve and a burning sense of injustice.

“People like me,” I muttered, mimicking his haughty tone as I watched him disappear into the elevator. “What, fabulous people? Gorgeous people? People who can rock red pumps better than any of those lobby girls?”

Suzu’s face popped into my mind, followed by Grandpa’s. I bit back my anger and sighed. Fine. Let him be a cold-hearted bastard. I wasn’t going to let Creed Malcolm ruin my first victory.

“I got the job,” I whispered to myself, a small smile creeping back onto my face. “That’s all that matters.”