The CEO's secret 1
One exhausting night, after a grueling day at the helm of his IT company, 26-year-old CEO Edward found himself starving and completely drained. He'd forgotten to eat dinner amid the chaos of meetings and deadlines. It was around midnight on Monday, and as his penthouse came into view, he noticed a small café glowing warmly in the dark, like a beacon of normalcy. Just an ordinary life tonight, please, he thought, the burdens of leadership weighing heavily on him. He leaned forward and told his driver, "Drop me here and take the car home. I'll walk the rest of the way to stay low-key."
Stepping inside, the café enveloped him in its cozy ambiance. There, at a table, was a woman in a crinkled café uniform, fast asleep. Even in repose, she was captivating—soft cheeks, a serene expression that instantly eased his tension. He cleared his throat gently. "Excuse me?"
She woke with a start, her sharp eyes piercing through him. "Who are you?" she demanded, suspicion lacing her voice like a blade.
"I just came for some coffee and food," Edward replied, hands raised in surrender, his voice unsteady. "That's all, I promise!"
"No one comes in at this hour!" she retorted, her tone thick with distrust. "Are you trying to hit on me?"
"Absolutely not!" he exclaimed, blushing furiously. "Just coffee and something light, then I'll leave right away!"
"Fine, give me your order," she relented, her eyes still narrowed but her voice softening slightly.
Edward sank into a chair, mumbling his thanks as the weight of his day—endless code reviews, investor demands—faded in this quiet haven. She returned with black coffee and a turkey sandwich, setting them down firmly. "That's $12," she said curtly, though her gaze lingered a moment longer, stirring something in his chest.
"Thanks," he said, offering a small smile. "Sorry for startling you. I didn't expect anyone to be here."
"No one usually is this late," she replied, leaning against the table, curiosity creeping into her voice. "I was about to close. You're lucky I hadn't locked up."
"Lucky indeed," he chuckled, sipping the strong, perfect brew. "I live nearby but never noticed this place. Do you always work nights?"
"I own it," she declared proudly, her eyes sparking with confidence that made his own CEO status feel insignificant. At 31, she exuded a self-assuredness that captivated him. "And I enjoy the quiet. Usually."
She owns it? The revelation hit him hard. "I'm Edward," he said, extending a hand.
After a brief hesitation, she shook it firmly. "Serena." Her voice was smooth, lingering in his mind like a melody. "Eat your sandwich. I've got work to do," she added playfully, pulling away.
As she moved to the counter, Edward tried to focus on his meal, but his eyes kept wandering to her. He caught her staring back, intense and unwavering. When their gazes met, she quickly looked away, busying herself with a rag. Is she checking me out? His heart raced.
