Chapter One
Brian Hayes woke to the sound of his phone vibrating against the glass nightstand, sharp and relentless, cutting through the quiet luxury of his penthouse bedroom. Morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting off polished surfaces that cost more than most people's yearly salaries. Everything about his life was expensive, controlled, and perfectly arranged—except moments like this.
He glanced at the caller ID and sighed.
Mom.
He answered anyway.
"Brian," Evelyn Hayes said without greeting, her voice crisp and authoritative, the same tone that once commanded entire boardrooms before she stepped back from the company. "We need to talk."
Brian sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Good morning to you too."
"This is not a joke," she continued. "Your father and I have been patient, but we're done pretending your lifestyle is temporary."
He already knew where this was going. He leaned back against the headboard, staring at the skyline he technically owned parts of. "My lifestyle pays thousands of people, Mom."
"That is not what I'm talking about," she snapped. "You're almost thirty. Every headline about you involves a new woman and a party we pretend not to see. It's embarrassing."
Brian exhaled slowly. "I'm not hurting anyone."
"You're hurting yourself," she replied. "And you're disappointing your father."
That stung more than he expected.
"Bring a girlfriend home," Evelyn said firmly. "Someone real. Not a model, not a socialite, not a headline. We're having dinner this weekend."
"Mom—"
"No excuses. If you don't, your father and I will assume you're incapable of commitment, and we'll start making decisions accordingly."
The line went dead.
Brian stared at his phone for a long moment before letting it drop onto the bed. He laughed under his breath, but there was no humor in it. His parents were serious—and when they were serious, consequences followed.
An hour later, Brian stood in his office atop Hayes Global, glass walls overlooking the city. Executives filled the conference room, speaking numbers, mergers, projections. Brian listened, responded, commanded. This was where he was untouchable. This was where control came easily.
Yet his mind drifted.
Bring a girlfriend home.
Absurd.
By lunchtime, he needed air. Real air—not filtered office perfection. He left the building alone, ignoring the driver waiting by the curb, and walked until the crowds thinned and the city felt less like a performance.
That was how he found the café.
It wasn't fancy. No marble counters. No designer logo. Just warm light, soft music, and the smell of fresh coffee. He stepped inside, immediately aware that he didn't belong—and strangely, that felt good.
"Next."
The voice was calm. Unimpressed.
Brian looked up.
She stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back loosely, eyes sharp but tired in a real way. Not polished. Not practiced. Just… present.
"What can I get you?" she asked, already reaching for a cup.
Brian smiled automatically. "Surprise me."
She stopped and looked at him. "I don't do surprises."
He chuckled. "Fair enough. Black coffee."
"Name?"
"Brian."
She wrote it without looking at him again. No smile. No interest.
That was new.
He leaned against the counter, watching her work. Efficient. Focused. Completely uninterested in the fact that he was watching.
"You stare at all baristas like that," she said flatly, "or am I special?"
He blinked, then laughed. "Just appreciating good service."
She slid the cup toward him. "That'll be five dollars."
He placed a twenty on the counter. "Keep the change."
She pushed it back. "Exact amount is fine."
Brian raised an eyebrow. "You don't like tips?"
"I like honesty," she replied. "Not displays."
Something about the way she said it unsettled him.
He took his coffee and stepped aside, but instead of leaving, he stayed. Watched people come and go. Watched her. When she finally looked up again, her expression was wary.
"Are you waiting for something?"
He lifted his cup slightly. "Just enjoying the coffee."
"Good," she said. "Because we're not a lounge."
That should have annoyed him.
Instead, it intrigued him.
As he stepped back onto the street minutes later, Brian realized something unsettling. For the first time in a long while, someone hadn't wanted anything from him—not his money, not his name, not his attention.
And for reasons he didn't yet understand, he knew he'd be back.