Chapter Two: Coffee, Chaos, and Cold Stares
395 Words
Chapter Two: Coffee, Chaos, and Cold Stares
(Katherine’s POV)
The morning after my awkward first day, I decided that a perfect cup of coffee would be the peace offering I needed. Andrew Austin struck me as a man who measured his life in caffeine and control. If I could deliver both before nine a.m., maybe he’d see me as competent instead of clumsy.
Balancing the mug in one hand and my tablet in the other, I pushed open his office door—
—and froze.
He was on a call, voice low and clipped, speaking in that tone that made assistants two floors down stop breathing. I hesitated, but he glanced up, one brow raised in question.
I panicked. My hand twitched.
Hot coffee met polished marble—and his paperwork.
The silence that followed could have frozen lava.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” I grabbed tissues, blotting the desk in frantic circles. “It’s just— I thought you’d—”
“Stop,” he said quietly.
That single word had more weight than a shout. I stopped breathing.
He stood, assessing the scene like a general surveying a battlefield. For a moment I expected him to explode. Instead, he sighed—just the faintest sound of exasperation mixed with disbelief.
“Ms. Sandra, in my world, chaos is…unfavorable.”
I swallowed. “Understood.”
Then something unexpected: his mouth twitched. Barely, but it was there.
“Next time,” he said, taking a clean file from the shelf, “you may simply place the coffee on the tray.”
He sat again, flipping open a report as if nothing had happened. I stared, unsure if I’d just survived or impressed him.
When I turned to leave, he added, without looking up,
“Thank you for the effort.”
The warmth in my chest had nothing to do with caffeine.
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(Andrew’s POV – third person)
Andrew watched the door close behind her and felt the ghost of a smile threaten his control.
He should have been furious. Yet, somehow, the sight of his usually perfect office splattered with coffee felt…human.
Katherine Sandra was unpolished, impulsive—and more genuine than anyone he’d met in months.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering, “Disaster in heels,” before realizing the corners of his mouth were still betraying him.
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- Writer
