The Billionaire's Intern

The day had been long. Too long. I’d been swamped with back to back classes and barely had a moment to breathe before I had to rush to my shift at Roasted 'n Sweet Cafe. The place was cozy, but I couldn’t even pretend to enjoy the smell of freshly ground coffee beans and the warm scent of baked pastries today. I was just... exhausted. As I stepped into the cafe, the bell above the door jingled, signaling my arrival. The cozy atmosphere didn’t do much to lift my mood. The soft jazz, low chatter, and dim lighting only seemed to deepen my fatigue. I plastered a tired smile on my face, ready to pretend I wasn’t about to collapse on the spot. Greg, the manager, was already waiting at the counter, leaning over the register with a sleazy grin stuck to his face. He acted like I couldn’t see through it, as his gaze lingered on my figure a little too long as I approached. “Hey there, Faye,” he said, his voice laced with that annoying too sweet tone. “You look a little tired today. You know, maybe you should take a break. I could help you relax. We both could.” I nearly gagged. Every time he spoke to me like that, it made me want to scream. But I just nodded, giving him a tight smile. “I’m fine, Greg. Just another busy day.” He didn’t get the hint. Of course he didn’t. He leaned even closer to the counter, lowering his voice in that way that made me shiver uncomfortably. “You sure about that? You know, a little break would do wonders for you. Maybe we could...talk about something more than coffee.” I forced myself to keep calm, refusing to let him see how much his comments bothered me. “I’m good, Greg. Just got a shift to finish, then I can go home and relax.” I turned away quickly, making my way to the coffee machine, but I could feel his eyes on me. The rest of my shift was a blur of trying to stay professional while wanting to crawl into a corner and hide. Customers came and went, some pleasant, some rude, but I was too tired to care. I tried to put on a friendly face for them, smiling and taking their orders, but my exhaustion was starting to show. It wasn’t even that late, but I felt like I could sleep for a hundred years. I took a deep breath as I worked my way through the orders. The cafe was busy, but nothing too overwhelming, just a steady stream of customers, each one with their own quirks. I was trying my best to keep up with it all. Then I spotted a customer at the corner table by the window, grinning like he'd just won the lottery. He was waving his hand slightly, trying to catch my attention. I raised an eyebrow but walked over with a practiced smile. "Hey there! What can I get you today?" I asked, setting my notepad and pen ready. He looked up at me, his grin widening. "Just something to wake me up, I guess. It's been one of those days." “Tell me about it,” I chuckled. “Long classes before this, and now I’m surviving on caffeine and baked goods.” He nodded in agreement. “Same here. I’d go for your strongest coffee and whatever pastries you have. Can’t say no to something sweet, right?” I laughed, enjoying the brief distraction. "You're right, you can't. A strong coffee and a croissant coming right up. Any special way you take your coffee?" "Just black. The stronger, the better." "Got it." I scribbled the order down and turned toward the counter. Just as I was balancing the tray of coffee and pastries, carefully making my way back to the customer’s table, someone in front of me suddenly stood up...too fast and too close. His elbow slammed into my side, jolting me off balance and knocking my tray sideways. A cup full of coffee launched into the air. It splattered across his back and arm, staining his suit and soaking the shining band of what appeared to be a Rolex. Hot liquid scorched my wrist and a croissant hit the floor. “s**t!” I muttered, instinctively trying to catch everything before it hit the floor. My wrist stung. The man whirled around, his face a picture of slow building rage. “Are you f*****g kidding me?” His voice boomed across the cafe. He looked down at the wet stain spreading across his sleeve, then flicked his arm as if trying to shake off the coffee. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, reaching for napkins from my apron pocket. He didn’t even look at me. His eyes were fixed on his watch, inspecting it like it was the most precious thing in his world. “You brainless little!... ”he started. I froze. I hadn’t even been walking that fast. The whole thing had been an accident, but I still felt a surge of anger rise in my chest. I turned around, biting my tongue. I wasn’t about to lose it in front of the customers. “I’m sorry, it was an accident. I didn’t…” “Of course.” He cut me off, finally turning his glare on me. “Crawl into apology mode. You people always do this. Spill something, ruin someone’s day and think saying sorry fixes everything.” My cheeks burned. “You people?” He sneered “Waitresses. Staff. Broke, bitter minimum wage nobodies who can’t handle a tray without turning it into a crime scene.” My hands clenched around the napkins. “Look, I said I’m sorry. Maybe if you hadn’t stood up so suddenly…” “Oh, so it’s my fault now?” He raised an eyebrow, dripping with disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.” I blinked, twice, then let out a short, sharp laugh. “Wow. That explains it. You weren’t born, you were flushed out.” The cafe went still. Chairs stopped scraping. Even the coffee machine seemed to go silent. His nostrils flared. “Excuse me?” “You heard me. You think standing up without looking and hitting someone is their fault? Maybe if your ego wasn’t so damn inflated, you’d see that the world doesn’t revolve around you.” His face twisted. “You don’t speak to me like that. You don’t get to.” “Why not? Because you wear overpriced fabric and a fake smile?” I stepped closer, the coffee still burning my wrist, but I didn’t care. “You’re not scary. You’re just loud.” “You’re lucky I don’t press charges for this.” I snorted. “Oh, please. Go ahead. Call your lawyer. Sue a coffee shop waitress because you jumped like an i***t and got yourself soaked.” He leaned in, jaw clenched. “You have no idea who I am.” “Yeah, I do.” I snapped, “You’re a walking midlife crisis with a Rolex and probably another pampered trust fund kid who thinks he’s better than everyone else because of his family’s money. I bet you think your daddy's money can get you out of any problem, don’t you?” His eyes flashed with pure anger. “People like you stay broke because you run your mouth instead of shutting the f**k up.” “People like me stay sane because we don’t sell our souls for a watch and a dead stare.” He scowled at me, but before he could respond, Greg appeared, rushing over from the counter. He looked at both of us, his face twisted in fake concern. “Hey, hey! What’s going on here?” he asked, stepping between us as if he were some kind of mediator. He flashed a charming but insincere smile at the man. The customer’s gaze didn’t soften, though. He simply raised an eyebrow and said, “You should really train your staff better. Teach them how to respond to customers. They’re here to serve, not to make a mess of things.” My blood boiled. It wasn’t even my fault, and here he was, acting like I was the one who had caused the disaster. I was ready to snap back at him, but before I could say anything, Greg beat me to it. Greg turned to me, his tone changing slightly. “As the manager, I’ll handle this and I apologize for the inconvenience, sir.” He looked back at the man, trying to soften the situation with fake sincerity. Greg turned to me, his expression now completely different. “Faye, my office. Now.” I didn’t even get a chance to respond before he turned and started heading toward the back office, expecting me to follow. But I wasn’t leaving without the last word. I wiped my wrist with a napkin, tossed it onto the floor between us, and looked him dead in the eye. “You can dry your suit, replace your watch and cry to your lawyer all you want. But no amount of money is gonna fix the fact that you’re still just an asshole in a suit.” Then I turned and walked away, burning wrist and all, leaving him behind before he could say another word.