Coffee Prince Novels & Stories

His slim black tie, patterned cobalt suit, and onyx cufflinks complete the ensemble. "It's okay," Fabiola answers. "We didn't⁠—" "Coffee?" he interrupts, setting his briefcase on the table before grabbing the pot, which none of us have touched yet, off the far counter. Though the basket of individually wrapped muffins and stack of oranges and bananas are tempting, my guts are too unruly to handle food. "These are freshly ground beans from Sea Glass. Amazing stuff, you have to try it." I give Fabiola a squinty glance. She cringes, mouthing, He can be oblivious, sorry, at me. Turning in my chair, I flash a tense smile at Josh.

Ariana pushed to the front, her voice tight. “Ethiopian Yirgacheffe. Single-origin. Ninety-three degrees. Blue cup.” The barista, a young man with tired eyes, blinked. “Uh… we don’t measure by degrees, ma’am. And the blue cups are for VIP lounge members.” Ariana’s stomach dropped. She glanced at her watch. Four minutes gone. “Please,” she said, lowering her voice. “It’s for Damien Voss. I need to get it to his office before even minutes.”

The music from earlier still played in my head; we hummed quietly, bumping shoulders, until we reached the coffee aisle. I stopped dead, my breath catching in my throat. One box, matte brown with elegant gold lettering, sat prominently displayed on the premium shelf, bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights. "Coffee Rossi". My stomach dropped like a stone, a sudden wave of nausea washing over me. Olga followed my gaze. “Yeah, that shit’s expensive as hell. Imported from London, I think. Only rich people buy it. There’s one over a thousand euros — insane.”

He swallowed, nodding. I smiled. “Let me get a coffee then we can talk about something else.". I rose up and strode towards the counter where a lady was. “What can I get you, mister?" She asked. “An iced coffee please.” I stated. "Small, medium or large? They're only 0.50 cents more expensive than each other respectively. The prices are on the board right there, sir.” She asked again, pointing behind me. I glanced at the board behind me then I nodded. “Medium please.".

Jamie started toward the pantry. "What would you like to have, Miss Jones? Tea? Coffee? Or perhaps milk and juice?" "Coffee will be good." "Got it." As he prepared my drink, I rubbed my forehead. To my dismay, I could feel the swelling! I quickly tried to cover it with my bangs. Jamie brought two cups of coffee over. "These coffee beans were gifts from a friend from Oz. Have a taste." "Thanks!" I took a sip.

"First time here?" I nodded, oddly touched by his welcome. "Then you have to try our house special – Colombian beans with a hint of vanilla and orange zest. Trust me, it'll change your life." "That sounds... nice." When was the last time I'd ordered coffee just because it sounded nice, not because it was what Kyle preferred?

the lady asked me as she entered something on the machine in front of her. "No, please. Just the coffee," I replied. "$1.22," the lady said, staring at me. "Wait, it's not free?" I asked. "Ma'am, it's a shop, and there is nothing free here," the lady replied politely. "Oh," I said, as I didn't have any money on me to pay for the coffee. "You have a problem with cash?" the lady asked. "Er, I will just leave," I said. "Wait, I will give you the coffee, just for today. But just know this, the coffee here is not free," the lady said to me.

Third Person's POV "Then put it to the test!" Paisley said with a grin. She looked up at Sophia and asked, "What kind of coffee is this?" Sophia put down the coffee cup and said, "This is the caramel macchiato brewed by Ivy today." "Perfect!" Paisley took the coffee and drank it while wiping her neck with the towel. Then she tossed the towel back onto the tray. "Alright, that's enough. You may leave." After Sophia left, Paisley said, "I don't like her."

Tiffany kept her head down, clutching the tray of coffees like a holy relic. "Delivery for the penthouse suite," Tiffany said, pitching her voice an octave lower as she reached the security desk. The guard didn't even look up from his monitor. "Name?" "Uh, Ravencourt. It’s a standing order." The guard paused, his brow furrowing. "Mr. Ravencourt doesn't drink iced lattes. He drinks black coffee. Hot, from a specific bean in Ethiopia that costs more than my car." Tiffany didn't miss a beat. "It’s for the guests. Big meeting. You want to be the guy who makes the board of directors wait for their caffeine fix?"

Maddie was nowhere to be found and all I met was a fuming Spaniard, tapping his fingers on the counter. "How hard is it to get a barista here?" He said, his grey orbs gleaming. "I'm really sorry, sir," I said, and grabbed a notebook. "Winslow, give me my usual. Hazlo rápido," "Pumpkin cold brew?" "No, the other usual," "Green tea Frappuccino, Grande?" I asked. "Si," "Coming right up," I said, trying to sound cheerful. As I grabbed a cup and a sharpie, Mr. Decarlo eyed me closely.