“Where are you?” he asked without so much as a hello.
I rolled my eyes, pulling the phone from my ear to see the time. I wasn’t even supposed to be in the office for another hour, and even then, I would still be early. I had to be. I had the biggest meeting of my life today. My father knew that. Hell, he was the one who called for the meeting. He should know better than to think I would drop the ball.
“Are you on your way to the office?” he asked, not waiting for my reply as I brought my phone back to my ear.
“I’m just in line at the coffee shop, and then coming right there.”
He harumphed on the other line. So impatient.
“I have one for you, too…” I said, trying to smooth out whatever kink I had already caused him at 7:30 in the morning.
“That’s my girl.” I could hear his growing smile through the phone. “I’ll see you soon,” he said in a sing-song voice before hanging up. The same kind of voice he had been using the past few weeks, like he was up to something. Nervous even. That wasn’t like my father.
I felt a flutter of excitement grow in the pit of my stomach.
Today wasdefinitelythe day.
The day that Harold Enterprises, my father’s prized possession, was mine. He was handing me the reins he had promised me all those years ago. Reins I wasn’t sure I wanted then. I had been ten at the time, and totally unimpressed by the empire my father had built when he brought me in for some Bring Your Kid to Work Day.
It wasn’t that I was blind to our wealth. Hell, I lived in the mansion in the South End of Boston with the ivy growing over the stone pillars leading up to my bedroom on the expansivesecond floor. I sometimes helped our private chef in the kitchen by peeling carrots or whatever harmless cooking task he gave me. I hid in closets and scared our various housekeepers as they tidied up my toys scattered through the house.
I just wasn’t interested in what it took to get those things. I wanted to be an artist one day. An astronaut the next. Running a tech company wasn’t exactly exciting to ten-year-old me. Hell, to twenty-one-year-old me. I had gone to school for business, with no idea on how to wield it, but did it because it seemed like a safe bet.
After I graduated, and after many attempts by my father to recruit me, I finally accepted his offer to work for him. I knew it meant a lot to him. He reminded me that it meant starting at the bottom like everyone else and working my way up. I didn’t want it any other way.
What I didn’t realize was how quickly I would fall in love with the job. The company. The people.
After six years, I was running the Boston offices. And it wasn’t because I didn’t earn it. I busted my ass for it. I put everything in my life on hold. Relationships. Vacations. Certain friendships. Even myself at times. Despite all this, I knew what some people said. That I was a nepo baby who only got where I was because I was the daughter of Penn Howard. I was sure it would be no different when my father made his big announcement today, but I was set to prove them wrong.
“Next,” called out the barista.
I looked up, as if suddenly remembering where I was. The counter was empty and mine for the taking. There was no sight of the ridiculously handsome man who I had temporarily forgotten about. I internally shrugged it off, knowing nothing would have come of it anyway. He was just so pretty to look at.
Reallypretty to look at.
I walked up to the counter. “Order for Gabriella,” I said.
The barista looked down the row of drinks to her left and plucked two iced coffees from the counter, leaving two rings of condensation behind.
“Here you go,” she said, handing them over.
One black. One a creamy caramel color. Perfect.
“Thank you,” I said, tossing a few bucks into the glass tip jar.
I turned and head for the door, careful not to bump into anyone as I weaved my way through the line that seemed to have doubled in size. There was a reason this place was packed. They had the best coffee in New York. I slid in between two men immersed in conversation about stocks and reached the door. With no hands free, I turned my back toward the glass and gave it a push.
I backed out onto the sidewalk, the humid summer air swarming me and quick to dampen my skin. I internally groaned at thefeeling as I turned, colliding with something solid. I let out a little gasp as the clear coffee cups slammed into the well-fitted gray twill suit in front of me, their lids popping off as coffee and sloshing ice poured out.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” a gruff voice asked loudly, followed by a few more vulgar words.
As coffee trickled down my chest, the smell of coffee was interrupted by a familiar smell. I looked up in horror to see the string of cuss words were coming from that perfect pair of lips I was staring at earlier. I was face to face with Mr. Rolex. And I had just spilled coffee over his very expensive suit.
Chapter 2
Chandler
I opened the door to the coffee shop, the morning sun streaming in behind me as I halted momentarily at the line of business suits and skirts before me. Fuck. The line was practically out the door, and I had no intention of waiting in it. I side-stepped the first line and walked up the middle aisle, ignoring the few curious expressions sent my way.
