The elevator groaned as Ava rode it up to her apartment. Her shoes pinched. Her bag was digging into her shoulder. And the memory of the day lingered like a sticky note on her brain: Coffee. Chaos. Cheekbones.
She dropped her keys into the ceramic bowl by the door with a clatter, kicked off her heels, and collapsed onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. It had been twelve hours since the Great Coffee Incident, but the man's face was still etched behind her eyes like an accidental tattoo.
Julian, she thought. She didn't even know his name. So why was she thinking of him like she did?
Because he was hot. And because life was unfair.
Ava reached for her phone, intending to order sushi and disappear into a mindless romcom. But before she could tap the app, a text popped up on her screen.
Riley:Check your email. Now.
Ava blinked, sat up straighter. Anything that came in all caps from Riley meant either a surprise promotion or someone got engaged.
She opened her email.
And there it was.
Subject: URGENT — Strategic Brand Collab Meeting (REVISED ATTENDEE LIST)
Her eyes skimmed the body of the email, and her stomach dropped.
New Addition: Julian Reed, Founder & CEO, Lumeo Analytics
"You've got to be kidding me," she whispered.
She wasn't someone who believed in fate. But this? This was cosmic cruelty.
Julian stared at his phone like it had just insulted his mother.
Max had texted him a screenshot of the same email Ava had just read.
Max:Guess who's leading the campaign your firm's investing in?
Max (again):The woman you coffee-baptized this morning.
Julian groaned and let his head thunk against the wall of his shower, still dripping from the run he'd taken to shake off the day. It hadn't worked. The woman was still in his head. And now—she was going to be in his conference room, too.
He dried off, tossed on sweatpants, and made a beeline for the kitchen. If he was going to spiral, he'd at least do it with leftovers and wine.
It had been a long time since someone had looked at him the way she had. Not impressed. Not awestruck. Just… annoyed. Normal. Real. The kind of look you get when you accidentally steal someone's cab or cut in line at Trader Joe's. He kind of liked it.
And now, she was work.
Which meant: off-limits.
Julian poured a glass of red, but it didn't help the tangled thoughts in his chest.
Three days later, the meeting room was buzzing with quiet tension and lukewarm coffee. Ava smoothed her blazer, trying not to fidget as she glanced at the door for the fifth time.
Don't let him show up. Please let him be one of those absentee CEOs who Skypes in from the Alps.
"Morning," said a voice behind her.
She turned, and there he was. Clean-cut. No coffee in hand this time. Wearing a navy suit like it had been custom-made for his body—which, okay, probably wasn't a stretch.
"Of course," she muttered under her breath.
Julian gave a half-smile. "Nice to see you again… under dryer circumstances."
Ava met his eyes. "You clean up well."
"Thank you. You speak well even when covered in latte."
She couldn't help the twitch at the corner of her mouth. "Let's just get through the meeting."
"As you wish."
The room filled quickly, and within minutes, the presentation began. Ava stood up to lead, clicking through her slides, every word crisp, confident. But every time she felt Julian's gaze on her, something fizzled under her skin.
When she finished, the applause was polite but warm.
Julian cleared his throat. "That was impressive."
Ava blinked. "Thank you."
He smiled. "Let's talk. Just you and me. After this."
"About?"
"Possibly spilling more beverages on you."
She narrowed her eyes. "Seriously?"
"I'm kidding. I actually have an idea."
She didn't trust that gleam in his eyes. But she nodded anyway.
They met in a smaller side room fifteen minutes later. Ava crossed her arms.
"Alright, CEO Reed. What's this mysterious idea?"
Julian leaned against the edge of the table, folding his arms to mirror her. "You clearly know what you're doing. Your pitch is smart. But your campaign structure—it's missing something. Heart."
She bristled. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, it's strategic. Clever. But love isn't just numbers. Neither is branding. You're talking about authenticity, right? Show it. Not just in influencers, but in the company."
Ava bit the inside of her cheek. Damn it. He wasn't wrong.
"I hate that you're making sense."
"Most people do. Comes with the territory."
She shook her head, reluctantly smiling. "Fine. I'll tweak the campaign structure. You'll get the updated proposal Monday."
"And maybe dinner," he added casually.
She looked up sharply.
"I mean," he said, unbothered, "if you're already reworking the deck, might as well have a drink about it."
"Julian…"
He raised both hands. "Strictly professional. Unless you want otherwise."
Ava opened her mouth. Closed it. Then: "One drink."
He grinned. "Looking forward to it."
That night, Ava stared at the ceiling again. This time, the problem wasn't exhaustion—it was anticipation.
Julian Reed wasn't just an unexpected collision anymore. He was a complication.
But also, maybe, a possibility.
And Ava wasn't sure which one scared her more.