The Billionaire's Forbidden Promise: The Bride He Was Never Meant To Love

Katie's POV "You need to make a delivery, Katie," my manager says from behind the counter as I take a customer's order. "Why do I have to make the delivery?" "Because you want to keep your job." "But there are others here too." I gesture to her to look around and find another staff member. "Besides, this is my twentieth delivery today." "Everybody is busy." "So am I." "Take it!" I grumble as I take off my apron and place it on the counter before taking the coffee order. "Who the hell orders coffee at this time of day?" I mutter under my breath. I check the delivery address. It's Reed Tower. "Of course," I whispered. Everyone in New York knows Reed Tower and its owner, Logan Reeds. The billionaire CEO whose face appears in every business magazine. The youngest self-made billionaire in the city. Ruthless in business. Cold in interviews. Rumor says employees cry after meetings with him. Rumor also says he once fired someone for bringing the wrong brand of bottled water. Wonderful. I'm delivering coffee to the devil himself. I check the time; it's 8:30 p.m. "Who are you?" the guard standing in front of the building asks. "I'm Katie, from Brew Haven Cafe, here to make a delivery." He steps aside and lets me in. I make my way to the elevator. The ride feels longer than it should. My reflection stares back at me in the mirrored walls, dark curls escaping my ponytail, worn-out clothes, cheap sneakers that have seen better days. I step out of the elevator and make my way to the massive black door. I press the bell and wait. Nothing. Nobody answers. I knock again. Still nothing. I sigh. If I leave, Gina, my manager, will kill me. I try the handle. To my surprise, it opens. I peek my head inside; nobody in sight, then step in fully. "Hello?" I call cautiously. Nobody answers. Everything is too quiet. "I'm from Brew Haven, coffee delivery." Still silence. I decided to take in my surroundings. The penthouse is breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the entire Manhattan skyline. Modern furniture, dark wood, everything made of glass and steel. It all screams money. "Hello?" My voice echoes. Then I hear water running somewhere deeper inside. Maybe he's in the shower. I should leave the coffee and go, I think. A deep voice suddenly speaks behind me. "You have exactly three seconds to explain why you're inside my home!" I spin so fast the tray tilts. Standing a few feet away is a man with damp black hair, water droplets rolling down his muscular chest, a white towel hanging dangerously low around his waist. His blue eyes are cold enough to freeze the room. Logan Reeds. Oh my God. My eyes go wide before I catch myself. "I…I knocked," I stammer. "You entered my penthouse." "You didn't answer." "So you trespassed?" "I was delivering coffee!" "You could've waited." "I've got twenty other deliveries!" His eyebrow lifts. "You sound annoyed." "I am annoyed." His expression darkens. "Interesting." He walks toward me with slow, confident steps. Everything about him radiates power. "I don't tolerate incompetence." I fold my arms despite every instinct screaming not to. "And I don't tolerate customers who leave delivery drivers standing outside forever." His lips twitch, not into a smile, into something more dangerous. "No one's spoken to me like that before." "There's a first time for everything." "What café employs people with this much attitude?" "The kind that pays minimum wage." His eyes narrow. "You enjoy arguing." "I enjoy finishing my deliveries." "You won't have one after today." My heartbeat stumbles. "What?" "I'll make one phone call," he says so casually. "You'll be unemployed by tomorrow." The words hit harder as thoughts of my mother and brother run through me: hospital bills, tuition fees. No...no…no... I can't lose this job. Not now. I swallow every ounce of pride I have left. "Look..." The word almost hurts. "I'm... I'm sorry." My voice cracks despite my efforts. "I really need this job." For a second, just a second, his expression softens. Then it's gone. "You should've thought about that before breaking into my home." "I wasn't breaking in." I almost lost it. "You opened a locked door." "It wasn't locked." His forehead creases, like he was trying to remember. "Wasn't it?" "No." A flicker of annoyance crosses his face. Apparently someone else is getting fired today. He steps closer. Too close. "Give that!" He reaches for the tray. It slips, and before I know it, "Oh no..." The lid of one of the cups pops open, and scalding black coffee spills all over his bare chest. The silence afterwards is deafening. My hands start to shake as what just happened registers. I may have just poured boiling coffee on the most powerful billionaire in New York. His voice is terrifyingly calm. "You." I gulp hard, hearing the restrained anger in it. "Do you know what you just did?" He takes a step toward me slowly, calculating, his eyes locking onto mine like a predator hunting its prey. My back hits the wall as he closes the distance. "You must have a death wish." "I… I..." I stumbled over my words. "You're fired." I furrow my eyebrows. "I don't even work for you." "You won't work anywhere after today." Panic crashes through me. "Please, I can't lose this job." He doesn't say anything. "I'll pay for your shirt." His gaze drops to the towel around his waist. I close my eyes. Right. i***t. I mumble to myself. "There isn't a shirt." For the first time, he almost smiles. "What café?" "Brew Haven." "Your name." I hesitate. Something about the way he asks makes the room suddenly feel smaller. "My name?" He raises his brows at me. "Katie." I hurried to say it, not wanting to push him further. "Last name," he says through his teeth. "Katie Clark." He goes still. "No..." he whispers, staring at me as though he'd just seen a ghost. "That's impossible," he mutters to himself.