Page 14 of Passion and Revenge

I decide to make a detour to my favorite cafe. I restart my playlist from the top, waiting in vain for the rap music to soothe me as it usually does.

Kat always makes a face whenever she hears songs from my playlist.

I gnaw at my lower lip, wondering if I should tell her about today’s episode. I love her, but she can be a tad irrational when it comes to Sal. What am I saying? She’s extremely irrational when it comes to him, and I don’t want to listen to hours of rants about how much of a manipulative dick he is.

Sal isn’t a bad person. A little bit controlling, perhaps, and can’t take a hint.

I let out a sigh and make the turn toward Chappelle’s. It’s a tiny, cute French cafe owned by an immigrant family on a street corner. My first attraction to it was the floral arrangement woven around the front arch, wildflowers in non-matching colors bursting out like the most chaotic piece of art.

The bell above the door tinkles as I walk in, and before I head to the counter, I sniff myself surreptitiously to make sure I don’t smell sweaty.

“Sienna!” Jean, the petite owner, waves at me excitedly. “My favorite customer.”

“I bet you say that to all your customers,” I tease.

She waves a hand in the air. “Do not accuse me of such falsehood. Your usual?”

“Please.” I smile gratefully. “And toss in any cookie you have available.”

She shoots me a thumbs up, and as I turn to find a seat, I bump right into a hard body. I make a startled sound as I lose my footing, and one of my earbuds goes flying out of my ear.

A strong hand wraps around my waist and rights me.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching and—” My words turn into a shocked gasp as I come face to face with the last person I would have expected. “V—Vincent,” I breathe.

CHAPTER 5

Sienna

“W—what are you doing here?” I ask.

He raises a plastic cup with a small smile. “Probably the same thing as you.”

I feel heat rise up my cheeks, and an embarrassed chuckle slips out of my mouth.

“I obviously know you’re here for the coffee. What else will someone be doing in a coffee shop if not buying coffee,” I backtrack. “I’m just wondering what you’re doing in this neighborhood.”

The corners of his mouth twitch at my word vomit. “It’s my favorite coffee shop.”

I’m wondering how I’ve never run into him before until he adds, “My secretary usually gets me this particular coffee, but she’s down with a cold, so I decided to pick it up on my way.”

Of their own accord, my gaze runs down his body. Today, he has on a grey pinstripe three-piece suit that is tailored to perfection over his impressive frame. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow.

“So you’re leaving then?” Dammit, I sound like a whiny teenager.

“Yes, unfortunately,” he replies. “Would you like a ride home?”

My heart leaps in my chest. Is he as unwilling as I am to part ways? But then I remember I’m in a bralette and leggings that are doing nothing to conceal my not-so-flat tummy and not-so-slim hips. I’m also sweaty.

I make a face.

Of all times, why did I have to run into him now? In all my fantasies of seeing Vincent again, I imagined myself dressed to the nines and sipping a glass of champagne elegantly. I’ll dazzle him with my sophisticated charm and witty conversation, and he’ll have no choice but to get on his knees and beg me to go home with him.

Yes, I know it’s stupid. He doesn’t even look like a man who will ever beg for anything, not with a face and presence like that.

“I’m sure you’re in a hurry, and my coffee isn’t ready?—”

“Si, I have your order ready,” Jean calls from behind me, and I wince.

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