Espresso X Madeleine Novels & Stories

He said straightforwardly, looking into the cafe and then at my nearly empty cup and plate. I followed the direction of his gaze. "Do you want to order? I'll look after your place." "Yes, but I'm also curious what you're ordering. Is it good?" Jonas asked back. His gaze looked genuinely curious, so I didn't hesitate to answer. I nodded. "The madeleine is good, but the eclairs and cupcakes on the display are equally appetising." I unconsciously swallowed before continuing with my words. "Oh, yes. I'll have a warm latte."

I immediately added the milk and increased the flame so as to make it come to a boil. While it did, I placed the bread on a dish and put the cups in another. Straining the tea, I put the cups and the dish with the bread and butter on a tray and went to my room. Madeleine smiled in surprise when I asked her to turn around and just said, “Wow” I handed her the cup and held the bread in front of her, “It is not much but I thought it might help you clear your head.” She curled her fingers around the hot cup and took a sniff, “It smells wonderful. When did you learn to make tea?”

she asks. “I have an order to pick up,” Benedict says. “Last name Montgomery.” She consults her tablet and then smiles. “Benedict? I see your order here, give me a second to go grab it.” “What did you order?” I ask, unable to stop asking questions. He just smiles and leads me over to one of the displays. On it is one of those fancy coffee machines that I’ve dreamed about. It does espresso and steams and froths milk, and can handle pods as well as brew big pots. It’s a gorgeous, shiny stainless steel thing, and my eyes are as wide as saucers as I look up at Benedict.

Elena forced a smile and placed her head back on his hand. “Wake up, Amora. Breakfast’s here!” Luca’s Joyous voice woke Elena from her sleep. He placed an enticing tray of breakfast befitting for a Queen on the table close to the bed. The center of the plate held a steaming cup of rich, aromatic espresso. Next to it sat a small pitcher of frothy milk, ready to be added to the espresso to create a velvety cappuccino. Surrounding the cup were a variety of delectable treats. A flaky croissant, golden and crisp, beckoned with its buttery scent. Its heavenly layers seemed to whisper promises of indulgence. Beside the croissant lay a generous slice of freshly baked ciabatta bread, its crust boasti

He seemed to be generally friendly toward others. This indicated that he was a good person. After all, his harshness toward her might have been due to James. After a brief chat with Yolanda, Zach ordered a coffee macchiato and an espresso. The coffee macchiato was for Summer, while the espresso was for him. Although Summer wasn't particularly fond of coffee, she had a good understanding of it, thanks to Fred, who was an avid coffee enthusiast. The coffee macchiato, mixed with vanilla syrup and cream, was sweet and smooth. It was perfectly suited to a woman's taste.

I’d arrived thirteen minutes early because my penthouse feels like a mausoleum. And waiting there meant staring at my phone willing it to buzz with a cancellation text. "Usual?" The barista didn't look up from the espresso machine. I nodded. She started making Elena's coffee first. Oat milk latte. Extra shot. Cinnamon dust on top. The order I'd memorized like a prayer and repeated. Then mine. Black. Simple. The kind of order that didn't require thought.

Then he closed the book carefully, sliding something between the pages, and stood. I turned my attention deliberately to the counter. “Tre caffè, per favore,” I told the barista. “Spanish latte, hazelnut latte, americano. And five croissants, please—due alle mandorle, tre al cioccolato.” My voice was steady, casual enough to sound practiced. Footsteps behind me. Steady. Unhurried. “Elisha.” My throat tightened, but I kept my gaze on the neat row of glazed pastries, their shells shining under the glass. “You’ve confused me with someone else.”

She inspected the tray, her nose wrinkling. "Is this it?" she asked, unimpressed. "It is," I said, wiping flour from my forehead. "Freshly baked. Served with espresso and a side of wild berry compote." "Hmph." She picked up the silver tray. "Monsieur is in the dining room. Wait here." She disappeared. I stood by the stainless steel island, gripping the edge until my knuckles turned white. I counted the seconds. One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.

He took the ground coffee, measured it using a digital scale according to the amount he needed to make Marie's favourite drink, and then brewed it using an espresso machine. The aroma of coffee quickly spread throughout the room. Without wasting much time, after Marie's favourite drink—Pam Sugar Iced Coffee—was ready, he immediately got up from the kitchen and served it to Marie. “Your drink is ready, My Queen.” Marie turned to him, smiling happily and accepting her favourite drink. "It tastes good. Thanks, Keith." "Anything for you," Keith winked, then sat back in his chair. "After this, do you have any plans--"

He just grinned, clearly proud of himself, and leaned back in his chair, hands resting casually on the table. Before I could respond, the waiter returned, balancing a tray piled high with pastries. Her eyes sparkled as she set them in front of us. “This is our selection today,” she said, her voice cheerful. “We have pain au chocolat, croissants aux amandes, éclairs au chocolat, tartelette aux fruits, and our signature mille-feuille.” My heart swelled at the sight. Each pastry looked more perfect than the last, golden, flaky, and glossy under the café lights. I couldn’t resist—my phone came out almost immediately, snapping pictures before I could even think.