Of All People,It's You

THE COFFEE TEST

The meeting continues for another twenty minutes before Mr. Boisnoir finally closes the file in front of him.

"I believe that's everything."

Almost immediately, chairs scrape softly against the polished floor as everyone begins gathering their folders and laptops. Quiet conversations break out around the room as department heads discuss revised schedules and deadlines on their way toward the door.

I save the last of the meeting minutes before handing the tablet back to Ivy. She glances over the screen, gives it a quick scan, and offers me a small, approving nod.

One by one, the executives file out of the conference room. Just as I'm about to stand, Mr. Boisnoir's calm voice cuts through the chatter.

"Miss Ellis. Please remain behind."

"...Yes, sir." I sink back into my chair as everyone else continues out.

Mr. Hayes is almost at the threshold when he suddenly turns around. "Oh, before I forget." He looks at Mr. Boisnoir. "I'll have the revised layout sorted before Tuesday."

"Very well." Mr. Boisnoir replies.

"Oh!" Adam's face lights up. "How was the espresso?"

"...The espresso?" Mr. Boisnoir looks up, visibly confused.

"The one I gave you downstairs."

For a second, my brain completely stalls. *Oh, no.*

Mr. Boisnoir looks at me, then back to Adam. "It was... okay."

"I knew you'd like it!" Adam laughs. "See? Maybe there's hope for your coffee taste after all."

With an easy wave, he disappears through the doorway, leaving the room strangely quiet. I slowly turn back. Mr. Boisnoir is watching me.

"Miss Ellis."

"Yes, sir?"

"Did you prepare my coffee this morning?"

"...Yes, sir."

He studies me for a brief moment. "The espresso Adam mentioned... what happened to it?"

I swallow hard, searching for the most professional wording humanly possible. "There was... an unforeseen incident involving the original cup."

One of his eyebrows lifts almost imperceptibly. "An unforeseen incident?"

Inside my head, I groan. *Really, Diane? An unforeseen incident? I better just be honest this time*

I let out a quiet breath. "I mistakenly assumed Mr. Hayes had bought it for me," I admit, my cheeks warming despite my best efforts to stay composed. "I drank it before I realized it belonged to you. I'm sorry, sir."

A brief silence settles between us.

"I see," he says simply. To my surprise, there isn't even a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I wasn't planning on drinking the espresso anyway." He closes the folder in front of him with quiet precision. "However, I do prefer my coffee at exactly seventy degrees every morning. It may seem like a small detail, but it's important to me."

I nod quickly. "I understand, sir."

"Please prepare me another cup."

"Of course."

His attention returns to the documents on the table. "And before this afternoon, let Ivy know I'd like today's meeting minutes printed and sent to everyone who couldn't attend."

"I'll let her know."

"Thank you."

***

I leave the conference room clutching the untouched cup, holding my breath until the heavy door finally clicks shut behind me.

The second I reach the reception desk, Ivy looks up from her screen. "Everything alright?"

"He wants another cup," I say, setting the cold coffee down with a small thud. "Oh—and he wants today's meeting minutes printed and sent out to everyone who missed it."

"Already on it." She gestures toward the printer humming quietly behind her desk. "I figured he’d ask."

*Of course she did.*

A few seconds later, the printer spits out the final page. Ivy gathers the neatly stapled pages and holds them out with a sympathetic smile. "Perfect timing. Mind taking these in with the fresh cup?"

"Sure."

I head back to the kitchenette, trying not to overthink it. The beans are already measured out. Seventy degrees. Exactly what the tyrant requested. I stand over the counter, watching the digital thermometer religiously until the numbers settle.

*70.0°C.*

"There," I mutter under my breath, popping the lid onto the cup. "Let's see you try to reject that one."

With the coffee in one hand and the printed minutes in the other, I march back to Mr. Boisnoir’s office and knock twice.

"Come in."

He’s already buried behind his massive desk, flipping through another file. I quietly set the coffee down on the coaster beside his elbow, followed by the stack of paper.

"The meeting minutes, sir."

He gives a brief nod and immediately starts reviewing them. I stay rooted to the spot, my heart doing a strange little nervous tap-dance. One page turns. Then another. He makes a sharp note in the margin before turning to the third.

The coffee sits between us, untouched, giving off a tiny wisp of steam. I shift my weight slightly, digging my nails into my palm. *Please... just drink the coffee so I can escape.*

Another page. Another scrawled signature.

Finally, his long fingers reach for the cup. He lifts it to his lips, takes one small, measured sip, and calmly sets it back down.

"Miss Ellis."

"Yes, sir?"

"I believe I was quite clear earlier."

I blink, completely thrown off. "...Sir?"

"I said seventy degrees."

"It *is* seventy degrees," I insist, a little too quickly.

He doesn't look angry, just entirely unbothered as he gently slides the cup back across the polished wood toward me. "It isn't."

I stare at him, my mouth dropping open before I catch myself.

"Make me another one."

"...Yes, sir."

I grab the cup, turn on my heel, and walk out. *Is this man actually serious? Is he really waging a full-blown psychological warfare campaign over a single cup of coffee just because I drank his espresso?* If he wanted revenge, he could have just yelled at me like a normal boss.

I force a polite smile for the empty hallway before ducking back out to the reception area. Ivy takes one look at my face and winces.

"He says it *still* isn't seventy degrees," I say, dropping the cup onto her desk.

"Oh."

"What do you mean, 'oh'?"

"I should've explained," she says, closing her laptop to face me completely. "I always prepare his coffee around seven-forty in the morning at seventy-two degrees."

"...Okay?"

"So by the time he finishes reading through his morning briefs and actually takes his first sip, it's cooled down to exactly seventy."

I stare at her, trying to process the absolute absurdity of what I'm hearing. "I brewed it at seventy."

"I know."

"And that's... wrong?"

She nods sympathetically. "By the time he actually drinks it, it drops below seventy."

I blink. "You mean..."

"He never drinks it immediately."

A slow, disbelieving breath escapes my lips. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm afraid not," Ivy smiles apologetically. "He usually waits about four and a half minutes before taking his first sip."

I look down at the rejected paper cup in my hand, feeling like I've stumbled into an alternate dimension. "...Who on earth even notices a one-degree difference in plain black coffee?"

Ivy lets out a soft laugh. "Mr. Boisnoir." She reaches under her desk, pulls out a fresh takeaway cup, and slides it over to me. "Try making this one at seventy-one."

"Seventy-one?"

"Trust me."

I let out a dramatic, long-suffering sigh as I pick up the cup. "If he tells me this one is bad, I'm chugging it in front of him out of spite."

Ivy is still laughing as I turn around and head back toward the kitchenette.

***

A few minutes later, I return to Mr. Boisnoir's office with the third cup of coffee. Sixty seconds in the kitchenette at precisely seventy-one degrees—apparently, that was the grand secret.

He doesn't look up immediately. "Miss Ellis."

"Yes, sir?"

"I'll need you to visit Warehouse Three this afternoon," he says, continuing to read through a document. "Meet with Mr. Collins, collect the updated inventory report, and compare it with next week's shipment schedule. Flag any discrepancies before the end of the day."

"Yes, sir." I quickly jot the instructions into my notebook before placing the fresh coffee beside him. "This should be alright now, sir."

"Thank you."

I quietly step back, but I don't leave just yet. For several moments, nothing happens. He keeps reading, signing, and turning pages.

I glance at the wall clock. One minute. Two. Three.

I fight the overwhelming urge to check again. Four minutes...

Just as I begin to think he's forgotten it entirely, his hand moves. He reaches for the cup and takes a sip. A brief, agonizing silence fills the room.

Then, he gives a small, approving nod. "Perfect."

He takes another sip before returning to the document in front of him. "Thank you, Miss Ellis."

A wave of pure relief washes over me. "You're welcome, sir."

I excuse myself and step out of the office, closing the door softly. The moment I'm outside, I walk straight over to Ivy.

"You were right."

She doesn't even look up from her screen. "I told you."

I shake my head in utter disbelief. "That level of precision should honestly be studied in a lab."

***

The rest of the afternoon disappears into a chaotic blur of inventory reports, warehouse records, supplier confirmations, and delivery schedules. By the time we finish preparing everything for the shipment arriving in two days, my head is pounding.

Somehow, Ivy still looks flawlessly composed. I honestly don't know how she's managed to keep up with this pace for years—and next week, all of this will be my sole responsibility. The thought alone is enough to make me shudder.

At five o'clock, I finally shut down my tablet, tidy my desk, and slip my notebook back into my handbag.

"See you tomorrow," Ivy says with a warm smile.

"See you tomorrow."

I make my way toward the lifts, already looking forward to getting home, changing into sweatpants, and debriefing with Poppy over everything that happened today.

Just before the lift doors slide open, my phone vibrates in my palm.

*Mum ❤️*

A soft smile spreads across my face as I unlock the screen, but it slowly fades the second I read the text attached to an incoming photo:

*“Diane... you won't believe what I found today.”*

My stomach drops. *No way.*