#1.
867 Words
The matte black Mercedes Benz S-Class pulled to a smooth halt, its engine humming with the quiet confidence of a predator. Before the wheels had even stopped spinning, a team of four security guards in charcoal suits flanked the doors, their movements synchronized and smart.
Dominic Blackwood stepped out. He was the kind of man who didn’t just occupy space, he commanded it. Tall, sharp jawed, and wearing a tailored suit that cost more than most people’s annual rent, he was the city’s golden son and its most untouchable bachelor.
Across the street, Ava adjusted the strap of her bag, her eyes narrowing as she watched the target. Right on time.
"Keep the change," Ava murmured, dropping a crumpled bill into the fruit seller’s hand without looking. The fruit was just a disguise for her, a splash of color to mask a woman who was currently hunting.
Ava turned, her pace brisk, blending into the morning rush as Dominic disappeared into The coffee shop.
The coffee shop was thick with the scent of roasted Arabica and the hushed tones of high stakes deals. Dominic was already at the counter, a phone pressed to his ear, his brow furrowed in a display of icy professional irritation. He didn't look like a man who enjoyed his morning.
Ava ordered a black coffee, scalding hot. She waited until the barista called her name, then timed her exit perfectly.
Dominic was still deep in his call, his back turned to the room as he gestured for his guards to stay back. He began to turn, his focus entirely on the voice in his ear. Ava didn’t look up. She kept her eyes glued to her phone, her thumb scrolling aimlessly as she stepped directly into his path.
The impact was solid.
The cardboard cup buckled. A dark, steaming wave of espresso splashed upward, soaking into the pristine white fabric of Dominic’s shirt and the lapel of his blazer.
"Oh! My god, I’m so sorry," Ava gasped, her voice a pitch perfect blend of panic and clumsiness.
Dominic froze. He slowly pulled the phone away from his ear, staring down at the spreading brown stain on his chest. His expression shifted from shock to a cold, simmering fury. He looked at Ava as if she were a glitch in a system he had spent years perfecting.
"Are you serious?" his voice was low. He looked at his guards, who were already closing in, then back at her. "Watch where you’re going. You’re incredibly clumsy for someone so poor."
The apology died on Ava’s lips. She let her shoulders stiffen, her eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp light. The "poor girl" facade evaporated, replaced by a spine of steel.
"Excuse me?" she snapped, stepping closer rather than backing away. "I said I was sorry, but maybe if you weren't so busy barking orders into your phone, you would have seen me standing right here. You’re incredibly arrogant."
A guard stepped forward to intervene, but Dominic held up a hand, his gaze locked on Ava’s.
"What did you just call me?" he asked. The words were quiet, laced with the kind of disbelief that comes from a lifetime of being told yes.
"An arrogant bastard," Ava repeated, her voice clear and ringing. "Does the money in your bank account make you deaf, or just entitled?"
He took a half step toward her, looming over her, trying to use his height as a weapon. "You did this on purpose I’m very sure, you saw the suit, and you thought you’d orchestrate a little 'meet cute' to get a Blackwood to look at you. A lot of girls has done that before. It’s a tired play, sweetheart."
Ava’s lip curled in a sneer. She reached into her bag, pulling out a thick roll of bills secured by a pink clip. She peeled off several hundred dollar notes and flicked them at his chest. They fluttered against his ruined suit before drifting to the floor.
"Its a waste of time arguing with an arrogant person like you. But for the suit? That should cover the dry cleaning. Or a personality transplant, if you can find a surgeon who takes cash."
She turned to leave, but stopped, looking back over her shoulder with a devastatingly bored expression.
"And don't flatter yourself, sir. If I were looking for a rich man’s attention, I’d be aiming for your father. He’s actually my type. You’re just a boy in an expensive outfit."
She didn't wait for a rebuttal. She walked out the door, the bell chiming behind her, leaving the richest bachelor in the city standing in a puddle of coffee and bruised ego.
Dominic stood paralyzed, the silence of the shop ringing in his ears. He looked down at the money on the floor, then at the door where she had vanished. For the first time in his life, he didn't have the last word.
He finally turned to one of his men.
“Find out who that girl is,” he ordered, and the man nodded.
Then, almost to himself, he muttered,
“No one’s ever looked me in the eyes and spoken to me like that before.”
- Writer
