A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss (by Gregory Ellington) novel Chapter 375

Madison

The café settled into its mid–morning lull. A few customers trickled in and out, but nothing demanding. I used the quiet time to prep for lunch, checking inventory and planning tomorrow’s specials.

I reorganized the pastry case, restocked the cream and sugar station, and wiped down already–clean tables.

Anything to keep my hands busy and my mind off yesterday.

Off Alexander showing up after years like it was nothing. Off the way, my traitorous heart had stuttered when I saw him standing on the sidewalk. Off the fact that part of me had wanted to throw myself into his arms, while another part wanted to throw my coffee in his face.

“Boss?” Mark’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “You okay? You’ve been wiping that same table for like five minutes.”

I looked down at the spotless surface. “Just being thorough.”

“Uh huh.” He didn’t look convinced. “Want me to handle the counter for a bit? You could take a break.”

“I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t fine. My stomach churned with anxiety I refused to acknowledge. Because acknowledging it meant admitting that seeing Alexander again had affected me. Those five years hadn’t erased him from my system like I’d convinced myself.

That I was still, pathetically, in love with a man who’d never loved me back.

The lunch rush provided a blessed distraction. Orders flew fast, keeping all of us moving. Sandwiches, soups, salads, coffee,

coffee, more coffee. The familiar rhythm soothed my frayed nerves.

By two o’clock, I’d almost convinced myself yesterday was an aberration. A weird blip. Alexander had gotten his non–answer and gone back to his Manhattan life.

Then I heard it.

The unmistakable purr of an Aston Martin engine.

I froze mid–wipe, cloth suspended over the counter. Through the window, I watched the car glide into the parking spot across the street. The same spot as yesterday.

My eyes tracked Alexander as he cut the engine and sat there, hands still on the wheel. He wasn’t looking at the café. Just staring straight ahead like he was gathering his nerve.

Good. Let him sit there and think about what a waste of time this was.

Minutes ticked by. Five. Ten. Fifteen.

“Is he coming in?” Ellie asked, now openly watching along with me.

“Apparently not.”

“Maybe he’s lost?”

“He’s not lost,” I said flatly. “He’s just dramatic ”

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Another five minutes passed. I forced myself to focus on actual work, restocking cups, checking inventory, anything to avoid staring at that car like some lovesick teenager.

Another twenty minutes crawled by. The lunch crowd thinned. Alexander remained in his car like some kind of well–dressed

stalker.

What was his game? Show up, sit in his expensive car, and what? Hope I’d come running out to beg him to stay?

Not happening.

I had a business to rum, a son to pick up from preschool in two hours, and zero interest in whatever midlife crisis was causing Alexander Knight to haunt my caté.

“Boss?” Ellie appeared at my elbow. “You okay? You’ve been glaring at that car for like five minutes straight.”

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Want me to call the cops? Get him towed for loitering?”

The image of Alexander’s shock when a tow truck showed up almost made me smile. “No, that’s okay. He’ll leave eventually.”

“If you say so.”

But he didn’t leave. Not at two thirty. Not at three.

Finally, at three fifteen, the driver’s door opened.

Alexander emerged, adjusting his suit jacket in that particular way that meant he was steeling himself for something. He looked up at the café, our eyes meeting through the window for a brief, electric moment.

Then he started across the street.

The bell chimed as Alexander entered. Every head in the café turned to look at him. He had that effect on people, commanding attention just by existing.

He walked to the counter with measured steps, neither rushing nor hesitating. Just pure, confident Alexander Knight.

“Welcome to Harper’s Haven,” Ellie chirped before I could say anything. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee. Large. To go.” His eyes flicked to mine for a fraction of a second before returning to Ellie.

“Coming right up!”

I busied myself with the pastry case, rearranging muffins that didn’t need rearranging. He wasn’t here to talk. Good. Perfect. Exactly what I wanted.

So why did I feel disappointed?

“That’ll be $375,” Ellie announced.

I heard the rustle of bills, the clink of change in the tip jar. Footsteps moving away froin the counter

Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t

I looked up.

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