Page 16 of Coffee Break with the Billionaire

The door slowly closes, but it seems that’s not enough for Nathalia because she pushes it shut with an angry expression.

“And you will never, ever, beg her for anything, let alone to work here again,” Leodie says under her breath.

“I really think she thought you were going to,” Fenella comments in her regular tone.

I gesture at Nancy, who is now laughing at the scene. “You should get rid of that,” I reprimand, gesturing to her phone. “No one needs to see it.” And then I stare out the window where I can see Nathalia stomping across the street. I still have her apron in my hand. “She just quit.”

“You’re welcome.” Fenella flips her black hair behind her shoulder.

I turn to her. “I didn’t want her to quit.” That’s not exactly true, but I definitely don’t want to start over trying to find someone who wants to work here. At least I didn’t have to look very hard with Nathalia—she asked me for a job, and after working thirteen double shifts without a break, I was desperate enough to agree.

I didn’t think working here was that difficult, but she never really got the hang of things. Or really wanted to. But still, the thought of having to start again is not a pleasant one.

“Well, you didn’t want to fire her either, so again, you’re welcome.” Fenella smiles but there’s a coolness in her gaze. “That woman was not meant to work here.”

“Says… you?”

“Says me, too.” Leodie leans over the counter, fist outstretched for Fenella to bump.

“I’m not sure you realize this, butI’min charge here?”

Leodie waves. “You think that, Silas, but… no.” She grins conspiratorially at Fenella who… laughs.

Fenella Carrington laughs and it’s not a pretty sound. It’s almost like she hasn’t laughed in a few years and is only now remembering she’s able to do so. And the thought ofthatsnuffs my annoyance like birthday candles being blown out.

“It will be a more harmonious work environment without Nathalia,” Leodie continues. “She was really bringing the moral down.”

“You could have told me that earlier rather than stand there and watch her walk out,” I say, resigned. “That didn’t make anyone look good. And I know she only wanted the job to keep her from being bored during the day, but what if she really needed it? What if she needed the money?” I look at Fenella.

You don’t know anything about that. Even though I don’t say the words, I can tell the realization hits Fenella. I won’t make a judgement about her because I told Leodie the truth—I really don’t know her. I know she’s a beautiful woman and that, along with her family’s fortune has opened doors and given her opportunities that not everyone can have.

It’s hard to say if she understands this.

I’m sure she has to deal with a lot—billionaires do have their problems—but they’re not the issues that regular people face.

It’s clear Fenella Carrington is not a regular person.

And that thought makes me sad.

“Had to be done, Silas,” Nancy calls from the table where she and Bernie don’t even pretend that they’re not listening. “Fenella’s right—she had no business working here. You have to respect the bean,” she says dramatically. “Nathalia didn’t respect the bean.”

She’s right. They’re all right. I shouldn’t have hired Nathalia but still… “Do you respect the bean?” I ask Nancy. “Want a job here?”

“No way,” Nancy says with a laugh.“I don’t even like making coffee for my husband.”

I shrug and turn to Leodie. “I liked watching her walk out,” she admits. “You should thank Fenella for getting it done because I don’t think you could have done it.”

“He’s too nice a guy,” Fenella agrees.

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

Fenella holds my gaze. “Oh, it is.” Up close, her eyes look like they have at least three different shades of purple,but that could be the light. They’re almond-shaped and set wide apart in her face, and I can’t seem to turn away. “I think I like nice guys.”

Fenella is not a regular person and I should kick myself for thinking the thoughts I’m thinking about her. Like how herupper lip is a little fuller than her lower and both turn down at the corners. How her ear is like a delicate shell peeking out from her curtain of dark hair, adorned with diamond studs the size of the nail on my pinkie finger. And how her throat moves as she swallows.

The moment stretches between us and Leodie moves away to serve Andy Babbit, come for his daily chai tea latte on his way home from work.

“You’re not sure?” I finally ask.

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