Fated Connections

Chapter two-Coffee mistake

Jennifer waited at the crosswalk, bouncing lightly on her heels, her bag tugging at her shoulder. As soon as the light turned green, she hurried across the street. She had to move fast—her design manager’s sleek car had just pulled into the front parking lot.

Maybe if she kept her head down, Mrs. Ella wouldn’t notice.

“Jennifer!”

The sharp call made her wince. Darn it. So close.

She turned, forcing a smile onto her face as she walked toward the woman standing beside her car. In her rush, Jennifer quickly zipped her bag, shutting it. She wanted to keep her sketch pad hidden. She didn't get the time to close her bag properly when she paid for the coffee, and she couldn’t risk Ella catching a glimpse of the designs she had purposely hidden from her.

“Good morning, Ma,” Jennifer greeted politely.

Ella didn’t respond. Her eyes narrowed instead. “Were you avoiding me?”

Jennifer’s stomach dropped. She scrambled for a lie. “No, Ma. I wasn’t. I didn’t even see you there.”

Ella’s gaze swept her up and down, nose wrinkling. “Why the hell are you so dressed up?”

Jennifer froze. Her brain scrambled for an excuse. “I… um… it’s… my…” She tripped over her own words, heat rushing up her neck.

Ella sneered. “Why are you stammering? Are you a fool? Can’t you talk?”

Jennifer dropped her gaze, sadness and anger tightening in her chest. She was used to this—Ella’s constant belittling, treating her more like a servant than a junior designer.

“I’m sorry, Ma,” she whispered.

Ella smirked, satisfied, and adjusted her sunglasses. “Good. Now, I need coffee. Hot. It’s 8:20—be back before 8:30. She said checking her wristwatch. The CEO will be here by nine, and I trust you have already given James the designs that is to be approved today?”

“Yes, Ma. I gave them to him this weekend. We even worked over it improving it over the weekend,” Jennifer replied with a careful smile.

Ella suddenly softened her tone, stepping close and placing a manicured hand on Jennifer’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry you didn’t get the promotion last time. I’ll really fight for you this time, okay? Just make sure those designs are your best designs so far.”

Jennifer’s chest tightened. Fight for me? She knew the truth. She had seen the promotion list—her name conveniently missing. Ella had kept her off it and slipped someone else in her place.She put Clare's name instead when she was just appointed last year. Ms.Ella knew Clare wasn't going to get the promotion. And worse, Ms.Ella had stolen Jennifer’s designs, using them to climb higher while she stayed in the shadows.

But not for much longer. This time, Jennifer hadn’t handed over her best work. The real designs—the ones she had poured her heart into—she had kept hidden.

“Yes, Ma,” Jennifer said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll get the coffee right away.”

“And Jennifer,” Ella called after her, already walking toward the rotating doors, “make sure it has little sugar, and the foam should be right in the middle. If it’s wrong, you’ll have to get me a new one.”

Jennifer’s fists clenched at her sides. One day, Ella. One day, I won’t be beneath you.

---

By the time Jennifer reached the café, the line was unbearable. She bounced on her toes, watching the clock tick closer to 8:30. Finally, with two cups in hand, she thanked the barista and hurried back toward the building, clutching the tray as though her life depended on it. She went to the fansier one that was at a distance from the Office,this was because Ms. Ella liked her coffee from there. She loves to show off the fact that she gets coffee from a fansy Café.

Her pace quickened at the sight of colleagues whispering that it was already 8:29. She nearly tripped through the rotating doors and fumbled with her ID card to pass security.

The elevator was about to close when she called out, breathless: “Hold the door! Please—hold it!”

A hand shot out to stop it.

Jennifer slipped inside, sighing with relief. “Thank you!”

Two men stood inside. One of them—a tall man in a blue suit, glasses perched neatly on his nose—smiled warmly. “No problem. What floor?”

Jennifer blinked, momentarily distracted by his dimple. “Sixty, please,” she managed, embarrassed to realize she had been staring.

He pressed the button and stepped aside.

That was when she noticed the other man.

He stood silently in the corner, dressed in a tailored black suit from the company’s most recent New Year collection. His presence was impossible to ignore—tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features set in a cold, unyielding mask. His jawline was sharp, his lips full, plumbing lips were pressed into a firm line. He immediately turned and stared right at her. She caught a glimpse of his green eyes for only a moment.

Jennifer looked away quickly, heart pounding. Something about him was… terrifying. And magnetic. She was so embarrassed that he had caught her staring. She scolded herself inwardly. This man didn't just scream Money but he looked like someone who didn't tolerate nonsense and suddenly the elevator became too hot and she was very nervous.

She was very happy when she heard the elevator dinged. She shifted to step out, but her wallet slipped from her bag and fell to the floor. Must she continue to embarrass herself infront of these Rich strangers? She thought to herself.

“Oh no,” she muttered, bending down—only to find the kind man had already picked it up.

“Here,” he said, handing it back.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly taking it from him, fumbling as she turned toward the doors. But in her rush, her heel caught, and she stumbled backward.

The tray wobbled. The cups threatened to tip.

A strong hand shot out, gripping her waist firmly, while another steadied the coffee before disaster struck.

Jennifer’s breath caught. It wasn’t the kind man this time.

It was him.

The man in black.

For a moment, her world narrowed to the sharp heat of his touch, the burn of his gaze. Those green eyes were staring right at her and they were simply breathtaking.

She quickly pointed toward him, breathless. “Thank you—for catching me.”

He didn’t answer. He simply released her, his expression unreadable, eyes fixed straight ahead as if she were invisible.

Humiliated, Jennifer tried to compose herself. The elevator dinged again. She stepped forward—but decided to thank him once more, she turned around to face him.

And slammed directly into his chest. Unknown to her he had taken a step forward thinking she was leaving but she turned back once more and that was when disaster struck.

The coffee splashed across his pristine white shirt.

Jennifer froze in horror. “Oh my God! I didn’t mean—I’ll clean it, let me—”

She opened her bags and brought out tissues, dabbing at the fabric—until his hand closed firmly over hers, stopping her.

“Don’t,” he said, voice low and commanding.

Jennifer’s breath hitched. He wasn’t shouting, but his tone was enough to make her spine straighten.

She finally dared to look up—and found his green eyes locked on her, cold, unwavering.

“I—I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Leave,” he ordered simply.

The kind man cleared his throat gently. “Miss, you’ll be late.”

Jennifer stumbled out, mortified, cheeks burning as the doors slid shut.

But just before they closed completely, she saw him still standing there. Silent. Imposing. Dangerous.

And she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just collided with someone who would change everything.