The morning rush was brutal.
Arielle clutched two paper trays of steaming coffee, weaving through the crowd outside Blackwood Enterprises. Her worn sneakers slapped the pavement, her heart pounding as she glanced at the time. Late again. If she didn't get these orders up in the next five minutes, Mrs. Langley would dock her pay—again.
"Excuse me—" she muttered, trying to dodge a man in a suit, but he turned too fast.
Crash.
The coffees exploded across his custom-tailored suit like a caffeinated bomb.
"Oh my God—I'm so sorry!"
The man didn't flinch. He stood still, eyes cold as steel, drenched in hot espresso and glaring down at her like she was gum on his $1,000 shoes.
"Do you even look where you're going?" he said, voice low and deadly calm.
Arielle's cheeks flamed. "It was an accident. I said I'm sorry."
He pulled a silk handkerchief from his jacket pocket, dabbed at the mess, then looked her straight in the eye.
That was when she saw him properly. Damien Blackwood. The youngest self-made billionaire in the country. Ruthless, brilliant… and completely untouchable.
Except now, her coffee was all over him.
And to her horror, he wasn't walking away.
"I don't accept apologies. I accept compensation."
Her jaw dropped. "Compensation?! I make $9.50 an hour!"
Damien's lips curved, just slightly.
"Then I guess you'll be working it off."