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Chapter 1: The Barista with No Last Name
The coffee machine hissed like an angry cat as Eliot Kane wiped foam from the counter with lazy strokes. Rain tapped the glass storefront in soft, rhythmic knocks, but inside the café, it was all buzz and clatter. Students hunched over laptops. Business types barked into phones. And in the corner, a girl with fire in her eyes and a chipped laptop stared at the screen like it owed her answers.
He noticed her right away. Not because she was pretty—though she was—but because she didn't look like she belonged here. Not in this overpriced café, not in that frayed blazer, and definitely not with that storm of determination that practically radiated off her.
"Double shot espresso, extra bitter?" he guessed, approaching her table.
She looked up, startled. "I didn't order anything."
"You will." He smirked. "You've been glaring at that laptop like you plan to kill it. Trust me, this helps."
She narrowed her eyes. "Is that your idea of customer service?"
"No," Eliot said, sliding the cup toward her anyway. "It's my idea of saving a life. Yours. Or the laptop's."
She hesitated. Took the cup. Sipped. A small, reluctant sigh escaped her lips.
"Okay," she admitted. "That's good."
He grinned. "Name?"
She paused. "Why?"
"Because I'm pretending I don't already know it."
Her eyes narrowed. "That's creepy."
"Or charming."
"Still creepy."
He laughed and leaned closer. "I'm Eliot. No last name."
"Rina. Maxwell. First and last," she said, holding his gaze.
For a moment, time slowed. Two strangers. One cup of espresso. A spark neither of them expected.
But what she didn't know was that the man grinning in front of her wasn't just a barista with a smart mouth and a good memory.
He was the billionaire heir to the Kane Conglomerate.
And she had just walked into the middle of a game he never intended to play.
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