Chapter 1

“Oh, yay! What is a morning without a visit from the devil?”

Choking back a chuckle, Neema Madaki gave her co-worker a side eye. “Don’t let him hear you.”

Faking a shudder, Hector met her gaze. “God forbid. Good thing he only has eyes for you.”

Uh, no. Things were not as Hector’s words suggested. Not even close. The man only had eyes for her baking skills, not her as a person. Not that she wanted him to have eyes for her. Speaking of eyes, Neema used hers to track the movements of the man who had just entered the building.

Neema loved her job and was always glad when someone appreciated her skills. It wasn’t her dream job of owning her own little pastry shop, but it was close, and the pay wasn’t bad either. As an added bonus, the little café she worked in was located in the same building as her fiancé’s office.

That meant she got to see Jerome every morning when he stopped in for his coffee and donut, which worked especially well on the nights they didn’t spend together from Monday to Friday because Jerome had to concentrate on work and get enough sleep.

Neema wasn’t complaining, though. She knew how much Jerome valued his job. As one of the three senior IT techs at Q Clouds, a cloud computing service company, Jerome had to show his worth at every turn. He was also totally obsessed with proving to his boss that he was the best employee the company had ever hired.

And that was where Neema’s troubles started. Quinton Fay, Jerome’s boss, wasn’t a man. According to Hector, he was worse than the devil. Neema just thought he was a god with ice running in his veins and a dimple in his chin that could melt Antarctica.

She kept her voice low since said god finally walked through the glass doors of the café and was headed for the counter with a stride that dared anyone to stand in his way. “At least he tips big.”

“Sweetening you for the slaughter,” Hector muttered under his breath.

Neema nearly laughed but managed to press her lips together at the last second. Humor still coursed through her and reflected in her eyes. Eyes that were now locked with the piercing steel-blue across the counter.

“Uhm. G-good morning, Mr. Fay,” she stuttered, her cheeks suddenly warm. It didn’t help when she heard Hector’s low ‘smooth’ behind her. Damn it! She was going to kick her friend, just as soon as she got rid of the stoic man in front of her.

“Miss Madaki,” Quinton said in his deep voice that never failed to make Neema shudder a little. “My usual.”

“Of course.” Neema moved away to make a cup of Ethiopian Yirgacheffe coffee.

In the six months she’d been working in the café, she’d only known two men who drank the unique coffee blend with its citrus and fruity undertones. Somehow, she thought it suited the hard-hearted CEO. Or at least, she thought it spoke of his secrets underneath the dark, stoic exterior.

Maybe the man was actually a warm, vibrant character at heart. Hell, for all she knew, he did stand-up comedy in his spare time and rescued kittens between his multi-million dollar deals. Neema scoffed softly to herself. Yeah. Right. And the pigs could fly.

Closing the to-go cup, Neema grabbed the already wrapped dark chocolate croissant. The man only ever had the sweet pastry three times a week, religiously. And Neema made sure it was always ready for him.

She’d just placed his order on the counter when the only other person who ordered the special coffee walked into the café. Unable to help herself, Neema smiled at the newcomer, which drew Quinton’s attention, which had been unnervingly fixed on her.

Without a change in his expression, Quinton looked over his shoulder at Jerome and gave a nod. Contrary to his boss’s blank demeanor, Jerome beamed and rushed over to the counter. “Good morning, Mr. Fay. Please, let me get that for you,” he said hurriedly, already reaching for his wallet.

It was nothing unusual, so Neema wasn’t surprised when the man nodded but still dropped a hundred in the tip jar. He had an unreadable expression perfected over years of giving orders and expecting nothing but compliance. Yet, she felt as though his eyes saw deep into her soul when he looked at her again. Then, like a king exiting a room, he gracefully turned and walked away with his breakfast in hand.

With his departure, the air was suddenly lighter to breathe. Neema sucked in a breath and shook her head. Honestly, she didn’t understand why the man never had his secretary collect his order, but she didn’t have time to dwell on that. Jerome stood in front of her, and it was her first sight of him since yesterday morning, so she wanted to make the most of it.

“Hey, handsome,” she whispered with a smile. She ignored the way Jerome’s face didn’t reflect the same enthusiasm at seeing her.

“Hey, do you have my coffee ready?” he asked, his fingers already tapping on the surface of the counter with a blatant sign of impatience.

The corner of Neema’s eye twitched. “Of course.” She moved away to make his cup. When she handed it over, Jerome proceeded to load it with enough sugar and creamer to make a dentist cringe. That was the difference between Jerome and Quinton. Quinton took his coffee black, with no sugar, as though he wanted to ensure he tasted the natural essence of the coffee. Jerome seemed to make sure his taste buds had no idea it was coffee he was consuming.

Neema suspected Jerome had only ordered the coffee to be like his boss. She’d dared to voice that thought once. It hadn’t gone well. So, Neema watched silently as Jerome finished butchering his coffee and picked up his cinnamon raisin roll. Had the man not been allergic to chocolate, she was certain he would have been taking a dark chocolate croissant as well.

She only spoke when he appeared ready to go. “Are you picking me up or should I grab a cab?” Today was Friday, and Neema usually spent the weekend at Jerome’s house.

Jerome stopped, a frown creasing his forehead. “I can’t do this weekend. There is some work I plan to take home with me. The reports have to be ready on Monday.”

Neema felt her brows draw together, but fought not to show how upset the news made her. “You couldn’t do last weekend either,” she reminded him calmly. “I know you are working toward a promotion, but we are also planning a wedding. We said we would use the weekends to go over stuff, Jerome. There are still so many things we need to decide, and we are running out of days.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.” Jerome sounded exasperated. “The wedding is important, of course, but you can make the decisions, can’t you? I’m trying to secure our future. Don’t you want me to give you a good, comfortable life after the wedding?”