Chapter 18 18
Blair exhaled shakily and turned to grab the tray—
Just in time to feel a faint breeze behind her.
Like someone had slipped out.
She paused, blinking at the empty space.
Weird…
But her brain was too stressed to care. She shook it off, placed the cup properly, and carried the tray out front.
She cleared her throat.
“Coffee for Mr. Brooks,” Blair called softly, trying to sound professional.
Mr. Brooks’ secretary, Miss Avery, appeared almost instantly, heels clicking sharply across the floor.
“Perfect timing,” Avery said, taking the tray from Blair with practiced efficiency. “He needs this for the client debrief.”
Blair nodded, lowering her gaze. “Thank you.”
Avery hesitated—just a second—then sighed, softening her voice.
“Blair… Mrs. Hastings told me to inform you.”
She looked around to make sure no one was listening.
“You have until the end of the night shift to prove yourself.”
Blair’s heart dropped into her stomach.
Night shift.
Meaning she’d be here until everyone else went home.
Meaning they were actually doing this—turning her into some kind of test subject in a coffee war she didn’t ask for.
Avery added gently, “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my decision.”
Blair gave a tiny nod, swallowing the burn behind her eyes.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, even though it wasn’t. “I’ll try my best.”
Avery managed a sympathetic half-smile before walking away with the tray.
Blair stood there for a moment, alone behind the counter, hands trembling.
First day, and you’re already fighting for your life, Blair. Breathe. Focus. Don’t collapse.
She inhaled deeply.
“Okay,” she murmured to herself. “Night shift it is.”
From across the lobby, near the elevators, a woman in sleek corporate black stood half-turned toward Blair, phone already pressed to her ear.
Her gaze was sharp.
And fixed entirely on Blair.
The moment Blair looked up, the woman quickly turned away, voice dropping to a whisper.
“Yeah… she just delivered the coffee to Mr. Brooks.”
A pause.
“I told you she’d mess up eventually. Tonight’s the best chance.”
The woman’s nails tapped against her phone, her eyes flicking back to Blair with a smug little smirk.
“Yes. Consider it done.”
She ended the call smoothly, tucked the phone into her blazer, and walked off with the confidence of someone who already knew a trap was set—and waiting.
Blair, unaware of what she’d just been drawn into, rubbed her palms nervously on her apron and forced herself back to work.
By the time the lunch rush hit, Blair had packed so many orders her fingers were starting to go numb.
Cup after cup. Sleeve after sleeve.
Her petite frame moved around the counter like she was being chased.
Finally—finally—she saw the last order slip slide out of the printer.
She boxed the final cup with shaking hands and exhaled.
Her phone buzzed in her apron.
Mave’s school.
Blair froze for a second.
Oh God—school was over. She’d completely lost track of time.
She quickly stepped into the tiny staff storage room, pressing the phone to her ear.
“Hello? Yes, this is Blair Rivers.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Rivers,” the receptionist said warmly. “Just calling to confirm—Mave’s nanny is here for pickup. Should we release him to her?”
Relief washed over Blair in a heavy wave.
“Yes, yes please,” she breathed out. “Tell him I’ll be home tonight. I’m… I’m working a long shift today.”
“Of course. He’ll be fine.”
“Thank you.”
She ended the call and leaned her head against the wall, shutting her eyes.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
“Please let today end without another disaster.”
But as she stepped back onto the cafe floor…
She had no idea someone had already made sure that wouldn’t happen.
By 9 p.m., the entire building had slipped into that corporate silence.
Most of the staff had already gone home.
Blair was still behind the coffee counter, her apron stained from the long day, her eyes tired but determined.
Just two more hours. Then home. Then Mave. Then sleep.
Her fingers massaged her temple as she wiped down the counter.
Then the bell chimed sharply.
DING.
A new order slid out of the printer.
Her heart dropped.
Order: Mr. Brooks. Large. Black. No sugar. Immediate.
Blair swallowed.
Of course.
Of course it had to be him.
At night. When her nerves were hanging by a thread.
She glanced around — the other counters were empty, lights off.
She was alone.
In the distance, through the glass walls, she could see a few men in suits leaving the top floor.
Their voices drifted faintly down the hall:
“Last meeting of the night… Mr. Brooks never stops.”
“Man doesn’t sleep.”
“He’s probably still in the boardroom, wrapping up.”
Blair exhaled shakily.
Don’t stare when you serve him.
Be rude.
Don’t touch him.
Don’t be stupid.
Don’t fall.
Don’t embarrass yourself—again.
“And definitely don’t remember how hot he is,” the annoying voice in her head added.
She slapped her own cheek lightly.
“No. Blair. Focus.”
She grabbed a fresh cup, filled it with the rich, dark brew only Lucas liked, and placed the lid carefully.
The steam rose gently, warming her face.
She steadied herself.
“Just deliver it,” she whispered. “Drop it off. No eye contact. No shaking. No… slipping onto him again.”
Even saying it out loud made her wince.
She picked up the tray and stepped out from behind the counter.
Somewhere down the hallway, a pair of footsteps echoed.
Blair balanced the tray carefully in her hands as she approached Mr. Brooks’ office. The hallway was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat.
She stopped at the tall glass door, swallowed, and knocked once.
Then his voice rolled out from inside—deep.
“Come in.”
Her stomach folded in on itself.
That voice.
That stupid, commanding voice that made every cell in her body react before she could think.
She shut her eyes for half a second, steadying her breath.
No. Don’t fold. Don’t melt. You hate him, remember?
He’s a monster.
He humiliated you. Made you feel small. Stay angry, Blair.
She replayed the list of “rules” in her head:
Don’t stare at him.
Be rude.
Don’t touch him.
Don’t let him see you get nervous.
Blair pushed the door open slowly.