Chapter Five: Coffee Encounter
795 Words
Two days had passed since the interview, and Tamryn Rhidian had all but written it off. She’d replayed it in her head, analyzing every twitch of her brow and stammer in her voice, wondering if she had sounded confident enough or like someone desperate for a job.
She was halfway through folding laundry when her phone buzzed.
Whitemore Labs: Offer of Employment
She blinked. Then blinked again.
It wasn’t a rejection. It wasn’t a polite “we’ll keep your resume on file.” It was a full-on employment offer, complete with her start date, benefits, department assignment, and a tidy signature at the bottom: L. Rhys, CEO.
“Wait. What?” she whispered, staring at the screen.
No second test? No follow up? No psych evaluation, skills trial, or DNA sample? For a top-tier research facility, this was shockingly... casual.
Still, she wasn’t about to look a gift job in the mouth. She was in.
---
Weeks passed like smoke through fingers. Her routine settled quickly early mornings, data logs, chemical prep, and coffee so strong it could cauterize a wound. The lab was sterile, high-tech, humming with quiet energy and personnel that kept mostly to themselves. Her section lead was pleasant but distracted, and no one ever spoke about the CEO.
She hadn’t seen him. Not once. Whitemore Labs might as well have been run by a ghost.
The name L. Rhys existed only on signature blocks and distant whispers. When she asked around, people shrugged or deflected. One even changed the subject altogether.
Mysterious CEO? Whatever. Tamryn had bigger things to worry about like not blowing up volatile compounds and getting her first paycheck.
---
It was a rare Sunday off when she ducked into a small corner café in Old District. Rain pattered against the awning as she stepped inside, the scent of roasted beans and cinnamon wrapping around her like a hug. She ordered her usual iced vanilla cold brew, extra shot, no whip and turned to find a seat.
She didn’t see the man until she collided with him.
Boom
Coffee. Everywhere.
All over his immaculate charcoal coat. Her drink had exploded between them like a caffeine grenade.
“Oh my god—” she stammered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”
The man took a single, deliberate step back. The movement was slow. Controlled. His eyes locked onto hers like a predator assessing the cause of a disruption in its territory.
They weren’t blue. They were the coldest shade of storm gray she’d ever seen.
And for a second, she couldn’t breathe.
He looked like a statue carved from arrogance and wrath. Tall, broad shouldered, hair like silver smoke pulled back into a low, neat tie. His cheekbones could’ve sliced glass.
He flicked a glance at his coat, then back at her. When he spoke, his voice was low and razor-edged.
"Do you always walk like you're blindfolded?"
Her apology shriveled in her throat.
“I said I was sorry,” she muttered, grabbing napkins from the counter. Her hands shook slightly as she tried dabbing the mess from his coat.
He didn’t move. Just stood there, glaring down at her like she’d insulted his ancestors.
“This was tailored in Milan,” he said dryly.
“Oh no, not Milan,” she snapped back, sarcasm flaring to cover her embarrassment. “If it had been Paris, I might’ve cried.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw.
The barista offered a replacement drink, which Tamryn declined with a wave and a tight smile. She didn’t need more humiliation.
“I said I was sorry,” she repeated under her breath, brushing past him.
Lucien Rhys, Beta of the Royal Bloodline, CEO of Whitemore Labs, and commander of creatures older than civilization watched her leave, wet hair clinging to the back of her neck.
She didn’t remember him.
Didn’t see him.
Didn’t recognize the monster who’d shattered bone to protect her weeks ago.
The coffee dripped from his coat to the floor, but he didn’t move to clean it. Didn’t bark or snarl or bare his teeth. He just stood there, fury simmering beneath the surface of his perfect composure.
Why now? Why again?
He should’ve rejected her application. Should’ve deleted it the moment he saw her name. But no, he had allowed curiosity to override caution.
She was a human. A fragile, clueless mortal with no idea what shadowed teeth circled her life.
And yet, her scent clung to him like moonlight.
Later that night, back in his office,untouched by time or light,Lucien stared at the incident report from the vampire altercation.
“Twice in a month,” he murmured, a ghost of a growl in his voice.
He should’ve walked away.
But he wasn’t going to.
- Writer
