The CEO'S RULEBOOK

The Coffee Incident

Mila’s POV

Stepping through the door of my house, all I could think about was Angel Harris. His icy grey eyes, that perfectly chiselled face, were etched into my mind, unshakable. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“Mila… How was your first day working for your new boss?” My mom’s voice snapped me back to reality from the whirlwind of thoughts in my head.

“Fine, Mom… nothing out of the ordinary,” I called back, my mind still lost in the memory of the encounter with Angel.

“Okay,” she replied, and I could hear the TV in the background. I walked up to my room, exhaustion settling in with every step. The events of the day played over in my mind like a broken record.

“Working with him is going to be hell,” my subconscious taunted, echoing in the empty space of my room.

“Surprise!” I heard Maya’s excited voice before I even opened the door.

“Maya… what are you doing here?” I asked, surprised by her presence at this time of night.

“What? Can’t I spend time with my best friend anymore?” she teased, her smile wide and mischievous.

Rolling my eyes, I pulled her into a tight hug. I needed this.

“Are you okay?” she asked, pulling back to study my face.

I took a deep breath, preparing to let out all the frustration bubbling inside me. But before I could speak, Maya interjected.

“Is it about your new CEO?” she asked, her gaze sharp and knowing.

“Yes, Maya, and he’s a pain in the ass. I can’t believe he’s Mr. Harris’s son,” I confessed, my frustration seeping into my voice.

“So what’s his name?” Maya asked, already picking up her phone.

“Angel Harris,” I said, and the very sound of his name made my heart skip a beat.

“Angel Harris, right?” Maya repeated, her fingers flying over the screen as she typed away.

“Maya, what are you doing?” I asked, suddenly wary of what she might be up to.

“Darling, I’m researching his sorry ass. If he’s going to mess with you, I’m going to mess with him first,” Maya grinned devilishly, clearly plotting something.

“Maya, please don’t do anything like that. Just let it go,” I pleaded, hoping she would listen.

“Oh, fine, Mila. Have it your way…” she said dramatically, before glancing at her phone. “But honestly, take a look at him. Goddamn, he’s cute.”

“Mila, why don’t you make him fall in love with you? Then you can control him—and the company!” Maya said with a smirk that was both playful and teasing.

“Maya, no!” I shrieked in disgust, my face flushing with embarrassment. I looked away, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Maya stared at me, a knowing look in her eyes as she seemed to analyze every part of me. Then, her playful smile returned.

“Oh my goodness… you already like your new boss, don’t you?” she teased.

“No… I—no. I hate him! That’s all I feel. HATE!” I scolded her, walking over to my closet to change, my mind still reeling with thoughts of Angel Harris.

The next morning, I was determined to prove myself to Mr. Harris—by any means necessary. I woke up three hours before my call time, rushed through getting ready, and caught the earliest train I could.

Maya’s little outburst about researching him had sparked an idea. I decided to find out a few things about my new boss. I already knew his favorite coffee shop and takeout place. On my way to the office, I stopped by his coffee shop and ordered his usual.

“Can I get Angel Harris’s usual?” I asked the brunette barista, trying to sound casual.

Within moments, I had his coffee in hand. So far, so good, I thought to myself with a small smile. I hurried toward the office, eager to get this right.

“Mr. Harris should be here any moment,” I muttered to myself, standing by his door, awaiting his arrival.

And then, just as I predicted, he walked in. My breath caught in my throat. He looked even more breathtaking than I remembered, and with every step he took toward me, my heart pounded louder. I fought to keep my composure, focusing on him but refusing to let him see the chaos inside me.

“Sir, your coffee,” I said, extending the cup toward him.

He looked at me, his eyes locking with mine. There was something about his gaze that made me feel exposed, like he could see right through me.

The intensity of his stare made me look away, trying to calm the storm raging inside my chest.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and firm.

I reluctantly lifted my gaze to meet his. But this time, something was off. He looked… off. There was something in his eyes—something raw and vulnerable—that he was clearly trying to hide.

Is that pain? I wondered, a tightness forming in my chest.

I didn’t know what to say or do, so I stammered, “Your coffee…” and handed it to him, my hands shaking.

He took the cup, but his expression shifted. For a moment, his face softened, a rare, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then, just as quickly, his expression hardened again, returning to its usual intimidating demeanor.

“Don’t you have better things to do, Miss Brown?” he spat, his voice cold and dismissive.

“Next time, I can buy my own coffee,” he added, pouring the entire cup out in front of me, before walking into his office without another word.

I stood there, frozen. His words stung, but I refused to let them get to me. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I was here to do my job. I walked back to my desk, but the questions kept swirling in my mind. Why was he drinking on a weekday? What was that look in his eyes? The thought of the pain I saw in him troubled me far more than I cared to admit.

Just as I began to lose myself in thought, my phone rang. It was Mr. Harris.

“Mila… I need you,” he said through the phone, his voice sharp but not without urgency.

I quickly made my way to his office, my nerves on edge. I knocked, my hand shaking as I opened the door.

“You called for me, sir?” I asked, trying to hide the unease in my voice.

He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze lingered on me, intense and calculating. His eyes slowly trailed down my body, his smirk barely hidden as he seemed to take in every inch of me. I felt exposed, like he was reading me—judging me.

“Mr. Harris…” I called, my voice trembling, trying to break the overwhelming tension.

His eyes snapped back to mine, his expression shifting to one of cool professionalism.

“Miss Brown, where are the files for the shareholders’ meeting?” he asked, his voice stern.

“I’ve already sent them to your email,” I replied, mentally patting myself on the back. “And the invoice for the Moon Suite construction, too. I color-coded them for you.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable.

“Okay, you may leave now,” he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

I smiled to myself, feeling like I had the upper hand for once. But just as I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

“Miss Brown… pack your bags. We’re going on a trip in a week.”

I froze, my heart racing.

A trip with Angel Harris?

Why does the universe hate me?