The Billionaire's Reluctant Heiress

Liana's POV “No, I'm not going to f**k you, Michael.” I said, fitting the book back on the shelf. Michael leaned on the counter, running his hand over the book tray. “Oh, please we know that you want me.” I ignored his remark and shifted to the coffee maker. But Michael was persistent. “C’mon Lia, you can't tell me you're not a bit interested in me.” I rolled my eyes and poured hot water into the French press, pressing down slowly. “Michael, I’m more interested in this coffee than I’ll ever be in you.” He chuckled. “Cold, but fair, how do you expect me to compete with that? Still, that doesn’t explain why you always blush when I’m around.” I turned with my arms folded, giving him a look that would freeze fire. “That’s irritation, not arousal. Don’t flatter yourself.” Michael’s smile widened. “You keep saying no, but you keep talking to me. That has to count for something.” I leaned across the counter, just enough to meet his gaze dead-on. “It counts for tolerance. And you’re dangerously close to running out of it.” For a moment, silence hummed between us. Then the bell over the shop door jingled, saving us both. I turned away without another word, focusing on the new customer. But I could still feel his eyes on me. And damn it, I hated how right he was. I straightened up, thankful for the interruption. “Good morning. Can I help you find something?” She smiled kindly. “Yes, I’m looking for a book on herbal teas. I think it just came out, something about infusions?” “The Art of Infusions,” I said with a nod, already heading toward the front display. “We just stocked it this week.” I handed it to her, and she flipped through the pages with quiet delight. A few minutes later, I was back behind the register, ringing her up and suggesting a chamomile-lavender blend we had in the café section. Small talk was easy. Better than dealing with loud mouths. When she left with a cheerful “Thanks, dear,” the shop fell quiet again. Michael was still at the counter, like a shadow that refused to leave. “You’re good with people,” he said casually. “Must get that from your mom.” I didn’t respond, just picked up the rag and wiped the counter. He kept going, voice softer now. “How is she, by the way? I heard she’s still not doing well.” My hand paused, tightening around the rag. “She’s managing,” I said shortly. Michael didn’t seem to notice the tension. “Must be tough. You run the place on your own and still find time to look after her. That’s a lot to carry, Lia.” I couldn't take it anymore. “For god’s sake, Michael… Can we not do this today? Can we just not talk about my mother like she’s a news update you’re vaguely curious about?” Silence fell between us like a dropped plate. His expression faltered, the usual smugness gone. I exhaled sharply and rubbed my temples. “Sorry. That was… I didn’t mean to snap like that.” Michael was quiet for once. Then he nodded. “It’s okay,” he said. “I get it.” I sighed, then brewed a fresh cup of coffee, just how he liked it. Despite his character, I knew he meant well. He just didn’t know when to stop pushing. “On the house,” I said, sliding the cup over to him. Michael raised a brow but took it, wrapping his hands around the cup. “You know, for someone who says she doesn’t like me, you sure make it hard to believe….” The bell above the door chimed, sharp and sudden. We both turned as three men walked in. The one in front wore a tailored gray suit, with a suitcase in one of his hands. Behind him were two larger men in black, they wore sunglasses making it impossible to tell what they were looking at. Michael slowly set his cup down. “Friends of yours?” he muttered. I shook my head, my mouth suddenly felt dry. The man in the suit stepped forward, eyes locking on me. “Liana Gray?” Michael shifted, placing himself between us without hesitation. “She’s busy. You can leave.” The man ignored him. “I’ve been looking for you.” Michael didn’t move. “You should look somewhere else.” One of the guards reached inside his coat. “No…” I started, but I was too late. BANG!! The shot echoed through the café. Michael gasped, stumbling back as blood bloomed along his side. Then he hit the floor hard. My scream caught in my throat as the suited man calmly stepped forward, stopping just inches from the counter. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, coldly, making it hard to believe his words. “But we need to talk and….” He turned to Michael’s lifeless body. “We'd love to avoid any extra unnecessary harm.” His eyes met mine. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Miss Gray.”