Chapter 2 – Unwanted Attention
1110 Words
Chapter 2 – Unwanted Attention
Morning sunlight filtered through the café’s glass walls as Kiara poured another caramel macchiato, her hands steady despite the exhaustion clinging to her bones. It had been two days since the coffee incident, and the rumor hadn’t died down. Every time the door opened, she half-expected Adrian Blackwell to stride in, ready to sue or scold her.
He didn’t.
Instead, she got the same blend of overworked baristas, impatient executives, and the occasional influencer taking selfies with soy lattes. She tried to let the rhythm soothe her—pour, smile, serve—but her mind kept replaying their conversation. The way he’d said her name. The flicker of interest in his eyes.
It shouldn’t have mattered. Adrian Blackwell belonged to another universe—one made of marble floors and million-dollar deals. Hers was bills, babysitters, and secondhand uniforms.
Still… she couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t forgotten her either.
“Kiara,” Maya called from the register, snapping her back to reality. Maya Johnson was her co-worker and closest friend—funny, blunt, and the only reason Kiara stayed sane during double shifts. “You’ve been staring at the door for five minutes. Expecting royalty or a refund?”
Kiara rolled her eyes. “Neither. Just zoning out.”
Maya smirked. “Girl, you’re not fooling me. You’ve been weird since CoffeeGate. Don’t tell me you’re crushing on that billionaire.”
Kiara scoffed, grabbing a towel. “Crushing? Please. The man probably has a coffee taster, a personal tailor, and a yacht named after his ego.”
Maya laughed, leaning closer. “And yet, your cheeks turn pink every time I say Adrian Blackwell.”
Kiara shoved her playfully. “Shut up.”
The door chimed, interrupting them. A familiar figure stepped in, and Kiara froze mid-step.
Speak of the devil.
Adrian Blackwell walked into the café, wearing a dark suit and the kind of confidence that turned heads. Conversations dipped. Even the espresso machine seemed to quiet down in his presence. His gaze scanned the room before landing directly on her.
“Morning, Miss Roberts,” he said smoothly, approaching the counter.
Maya’s eyes went wide. “Miss Roberts?” she mouthed behind him, grinning.
Kiara cleared her throat. “Mr. Blackwell. Didn’t think billionaires did coffee runs personally.”
He tilted his head, amused. “I don’t. But I was passing by and thought I’d try not to get assaulted with caffeine this time.”
“Ha-ha.” She forced a polite smile. “What can I get you?”
“The same thing as last time,” he said. Then, after a pause, “Minus the wardrobe damage.”
Her lips twitched despite herself. “Caramel latte, extra shot?”
He nodded. “And a moment of your time—if you’re not too busy.”
Maya practically squealed behind the register but covered it with a cough. Kiara ignored her and focused on steaming the milk. “I’m technically always busy, but I guess I can spare a minute.”
When she handed him the cup, his fingers brushed hers—brief, electric, deliberate. He didn’t pull away immediately. “Do you ever take breaks, Kiara?”
“Not really.”
“Then take one now. There’s something I’d like to discuss.”
Her stomach fluttered, half from nerves, half from disbelief. She hesitated before nodding. “Give me five minutes.”
They sat by the window, sunlight spilling between them. Adrian took a sip of his drink, eyes focused on the skyline outside.
“You’re not easy to find,” he began.
She blinked. “You looked for me?”
He gave a faint smile. “Let’s just say your name stuck with me. I don’t meet many people who talk back to me—or apologize while doing it.”
“I wasn’t trying to talk back. I was just… standing my ground.”
“That’s even rarer.”
There was something disarming about the way he spoke—not flirtatious, but curious. Genuine. For a moment, the world outside the glass faded. It was just the two of them, two very different lives colliding in the middle of a noisy city.
“So,” Kiara said, breaking the silence. “What did you want to discuss? Or is this just your way of getting a free coffee?”
He chuckled softly. “Actually, I’m expanding one of my outreach programs—tech training for underprivileged adults. I need local consultants to help manage community enrollment. You mentioned having multiple jobs; I thought you might know people who’d benefit.”
Kiara blinked, caught off guard. “You… came here for that?”
“Partly,” he admitted. “Partly to see if you’d actually talk to me again.”
Her breath caught. “You really don’t give up easily, do you?”
“I didn’t build a company by quitting.”
Later that evening, Kiara was back in her cleaning uniform, pushing a mop down the 28th-floor hallway of Blackwell Innovations. She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon—but when she passed his office, she noticed the light still on.
She should have kept walking. But curiosity tugged harder than logic.
She peeked inside. Adrian sat behind his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, his tie draped over the chair. The glow from his monitor painted sharp lines across his face. He looked… human. Tired. Alone.
Her phone buzzed—Zane’s babysitter, checking in. She smiled at the picture of her son watching cartoons, then quietly backed away.
But Adrian’s voice stopped her.
“Eavesdropping, Miss Roberts?”
She turned, startled. “You really need to stop sneaking up on me.”
He leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re the one sneaking around my office.”
“I was just… passing by.”
He stood, walking toward her. The space between them felt smaller than it was. “You always say that when you’re about to lie.”
Her pulse quickened. “You don’t know me well enough to say that.”
“Not yet,” he said softly.
The words hung in the air—warm, dangerous, and far too tempting.
She stepped back, clutching her phone. “Goodnight, Mr. Blackwell.”
“Goodnight, Kiara.”
That night, as she lay beside Zane, she stared at the ceiling, replaying his voice in her head. There was something about him—something that drew her in despite every reason to stay away.
But for a man like Adrian Blackwell… what exactly did “not yet” mean?
- Writer
