Coffee
1379 Words
Mr. Jones sat on his sofa, twirling a glass of wine in thought.
He couldn't get into Mr. Hugh's home, and Mr. Bono was in a coma—so how was he going to achieve his selfish dream of becoming the number-one businessman on the chart?
He had tried to get into Anton's home using a chef, but Anton was undoubtedly smart.
The interview had a polygraph and a tech whiz.
Anton knew a polygraph wasn’t the best bet since it was only 87–90% accurate, so he added a tech whiz—supposedly the best in the country. But it turned out he wasn’t the best, considering he couldn't see through the fake identity Luther created for Mia.
While Robert focused on the polygraph, the tech whiz did a background check on each applicant.
Mr. Jones had sent three people—two men and one woman—to apply for the job, but they were useless.
The men couldn’t cheat the polygraph, and though the woman could, her identity didn’t match up.
After the practical interview, Anton went to see the fakes.
Initially, he had planned a painful beating for them, but he decided not to react violently.
This was getting old.
Couldn’t they just give up?
Many of his rivals were after him, but he had outsmarted them thousands of times—yet they remained persistent.
He told them,
"Tell whoever sent you that CEO Hugh sends his greetings. And tell them to be smart before trying to outsmart me. Aren’t they tired? This whole thing is getting old." He sighed.
"I'll allow you to walk out of this room alive and without bruises. But if you try coming back with one of these schemes, I promise you’ll wish for death, but you won’t find it. And also, don’t forget—I have your real details and real identity. So, if by mistake, I see you anywhere around..." He let his deliberate pause say what he wanted to say. "...Trust me when I say I can be ruthless and inhuman at times."
Some of the fakes were literally shaking with fear now.
He decided to add a burner.
"And trust me, your families won’t be spared either. So next time, before you accept any stupid contract to work against me, think about this."
Anton smirked and walked out.
This was more satisfying than beating them.
Just a few words, and they were already trembling like chickens caught outside on a rainy day.
---
Emily told Mia that Mr. Hugh was home that afternoon.
Things had changed with time—Emily and Mia had become a little more than colleagues.
Not that Mia saw it that way.
To Mia, Emily was just a nice lady who gave her information.
"Hey, how are you?" Emily asked when she saw Mia on her usual stroll.
"I'm okay. Where have you been? I checked on you but didn't see you."
"Mr. Hugh is home today. We had to clean his study."
"He’s home?"
"Yes."
"But he didn’t request lunch."
"Maybe he isn’t hungry." Emily thought.
"Yeah, maybe."
Twenty minutes later, Mia was in the kitchen making coffee.
She wasn’t going to let go of this opportunity.
For weeks now, she hadn’t known how to get into his study, but now the opportunity presented itself. She was at least going to take a peek at the room to figure out a plan—because she knew she could only get in by sneaking.
The problem now was that she didn’t know how he liked his coffee.
With milk or without milk? With sugar or without sugar?
Whatever.
She added both milk and sugar.
A knock sounded on the beautifully patterned wooden door.
Anton was surprised when he heard the knock because no one ever came to his study except Robert—and Robert was currently at a meeting on his behalf.
He checked the camera at the door and was even more surprised to see Mia standing there with a tray of coffee in her hands.
He quickly got up and unlocked the door.
"Good afternoon, sir. I brought you coffee."
"Thank you, but you didn’t have to. I didn’t ask for it."
"I just did it out of consideration, sir."
"Okay, thanks. But next time, don’t bother. Besides, I make my coffee myself—black, no sugar. But this is okay, by the way."
He had a coffee maker in his study.
Mia felt irritated that they had something in common.
She also drank her coffee black.
Not because she was on a diet or anything—she just hated sugar.
Unlike other girls, she hated candy, chocolate, flowers, the color pink, romantic poems, and all the rest of it.
She was kind of weird.
"I didn’t know, sir," she said, taking slight peeks at the room.
"It’s okay."
She nodded and excused herself as he collected the tray.
Anton couldn't hide the smile on his face.
He was happy that she did something—made an approach, no matter how little it was.
Mia went back to the kitchen and prepared another cup of coffee.
Black, just as he said. She wasn’t giving up now.
Anton sat contemplating whether he should drink the coffee or not.
His stomach was used to black coffee—this one would definitely upset it.
As he debated whether to risk it, he heard another knock.
Checking the camera, he saw Mia again.
He got up and opened the door.
"Greetings again, sir. I made another cup of coffee just the way you like it—black, no sugar, no milk."
"You didn’t have to, but anyway, thank you."
He reached out to take the tray, but she brushed past him into the room, walked straight to his table, dropped the new coffee, and picked up the other one—all while surveying the room.
She then walked back toward the door, where Anton stood, too stunned to speak.
How mannerless, he thought.
But deep down, he liked the attitude.
Mia nodded at him as she passed, not bothering to apologize.
Well, she didn’t do anything wrong by helping him, did she?
Anton watched her retreating figure until she turned a corner and disappeared from view.
He sat down and continued watching her through the cameras.
She disposed of the coffee and went outside, but Anton kept following her through the monitors.
As she passed the guards' quarters, one of the guards—bold enough to like her despite her feisty look—decided to approach her.
He called out to her several times, but she ignored him.
Frustrated, he quickened his pace and grabbed her arm—that was his only mistake.
In an instant, Mia twisted his arm behind his back and squeezed.
His pained scream filled the air, but she wasn’t done.
To add the finishing touches, she struck his spine with her elbow and kicked his knees, making him lift off the ground before letting go of his twisted arm.
He hit the floor like a bag of flour.
All in ten seconds.
She squatted in front of him, smirking— his right cheek now had a bloody cut.
"Some guard you call yourself, tch tch."
"Never touch me. I hate being touched." She said through clenched teeth and walked away.
Anton’s eyes were still wide with shock.
Did he just see that?
He recalled the night she almost punched him.
Was this what she would have done to him?
He didn't want to believe it.
Now about the guard—Anton made a quick phone call.
Ten seconds later, he was fired.
So much for trying to hit on a lady.
Apparently he was useless.
For a lady to get him down within ten seconds, what use was he to anyone.
But she wasn't just a lady.
Anton became a little scared of her.
Her résumé didn’t indicate she was a martial artist.
But hey, she was one.
Mia didn’t want to deal with that guard.
She didn’t want to be violent.
She di
dn’t want anyone to know she was a fighter.
But that was instinct.
How dare he touch her?
But despite what she did, she wasn’t the least bit sorry.
He deserved it.
And much worse.
- Writer
