ARIA
The smell of unfamiliar perfume hit before I even opened my eyes.
Sweet. Synthetic. Overpowering.
And not mine.
A headache already throbbed behind my eyes as I turned my head and registered the redhead curled beside me, half-buried in my sheets like she belonged there.
She didn't.
She stirred. "Good morning, stranger," she purred, her voice laced with sleep and something else I didn't have time for.
"You got coffee? Like real coffee not the rich people French press crap."She asked.
"I have staff for that and they are another here." I muttered already getting up.
I sat up, planting both feet on the cold marble floor. "It's Monday."
She blinked at me, confused. "Okay...?"
"You should go."
Her brows shot up. "Wow. No coffee? No cuddling?
I pulled on my shirt, ignoring her entirely. My watch blinked 5:30 AM. I was already behind.
"Look, I don't usually...."
"You did," I cut in coldly. "And now you're leaving."
She huffed. "God, you're colder than your press articles say."
She rolled out of bed, collecting her dress off the floor like a disappointment trophy wife.
"You could at least pretend to be human."
I didn't respond.
By the time I was halfway down the stairs, I could hear her storming around in heels, cursing under her breath. The door slammed. Silence, finally.
Order restored.
Good.
I showered got dressed and ready to make people cry at the office...literally.
I stepped into my Aston Martin thirty minutes later, tie crisp, jaw clenched. The city blurred past the tinted windows, and yet my mind wasn't on mergers or the quarterly meeting at 8:00. It wasn't even on the woman I'd just kicked out.
It was on a barista.
A girl with red-rimmed eyes and fire under her tongue.
A girl who wasn't at the café on Friday.
Something about that unsettled me.
I could brush it off if I wanted to. Say it was a fluke. Coincidence.
But I didn't believe in coincidence. I believed in patterns. Puzzles. Logic.
And Aria Davis didn't fit into any of mine.
I arrived at the café at exactly 7:02 AM,
No line. No fuss. Just the smell of caffeine and disappointment.
Behind the counter was the same girl from before, ponytail bouncing as she took an order with far too much enthusiasm.
No Aria.
Again.
My eyes scanned the room like she might materialize behind a pastry tray.
"Morning, Mr. Gray," the manager greeted me, his tie crooked, his smile strained.
I didn't bother with pleasantries. "Is Aria back?"
He blinked. "Nope. Still out."
"For a family emergency?"
He shrugged. "So she says. You know how people are. One little crisis and suddenly they can't show up for work for a week."
My gaze narrowed. "One little crisis?"
"Come on," he said with a laugh that made my skin crawl. "I've been in this business twenty years. These girls flake over the tiniest things. Drama queens, most of 'em. I'm giving her until tomorrow. After that, I'm hiring someone else."
The coffee in my hand suddenly felt too hot.
"I see," I said flatly.
He grinned like we were buddies.
We weren't.
I left the café without touching my drink.
Something about the way he'd said "these girls" made my jaw tighten. Dismissive. Crude.
And it didn't sit right with me.
Aria might've been a mess. She might've mouthed off. But she worked. Hard. I saw it. Even through the shaking hands and tired eyes, she kept going.
Whatever family emergency she had if she was still missing shifts it wasn't something small.
She didn't look like someone who could afford a single day off, let alone several.
Back at the office, I barely lasted through the first hour. Every meeting dragged. Every word from my team grated like sandpaper against my skull.
My office door slammed harder than necessary after the third back-to-back conference.
Elaine stepped in ten minutes later with her tablet, perfectly punctual as always.
"Don't," I said before she could speak.
She paused. "Don't…?"
"Don't tell me about Milan's delay or Derek's pitch. Just..." I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Do we have anything on where John Davis went after he retired?"
That made her blink.
"John Davis… as in, your father's old driver?"
"Yes."
She sat slowly in the chair across from me. "He left shortly after your father passed, remember? Said he was moving to the countryside. We sent him a retirement package. Haven't heard from him since."
"No forwarding address?"
Elaine shook her head. "We tried. No response. We assumed he wanted privacy."
Privacy… or something else?
I leaned back, eyes narrowing. "He had a daughter."
Elaine's brows arched. "You think this barista Aria is John Davis's daughter?"
I didn't answer.
But I knew she was .qqq
The surname. The timing. The way she looked like she was carrying the weight of the world.
And if she was… why hadn't she said anything?
Why hadn't she come forward?
Why was she working a minimum-wage job in a café that didn't give two shits if she showed up or not?
Elaine tilted her head. "I could pull the old employee records. See if John ever listed dependents."
"Do that."
She nodded. "You okay?"
I looked at her sharply. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"No reason," she said smoothly, standing. "Just… try not to bite the CFO's head off during lunch. He already looks like he might cry."
I didn't respond.
When she left, I stood and walked to the window. The skyline stretched endlessly, arrogant in its beauty.
But my mind wasn't on the city.
It was on a man I hadn't seen in years. A man who once drove me to school. A man whose wife and daughter's funeral I attended beside a tear-streaked little girl with the same eyes as that barista.
Aria Davis
It was her.
It had to be.
But where is John?. He was well off when he retired.
Why was his daughter working herself to death? Did something happen?
I exhaled slowly, the tension in my chest refusing to ease.
None of this should matter.
And yet here I was. Standing alone. Coffee cold on my desk. Haunted by the memory of a girl I barely knew and a man I hadn't thought about in a decade.
I shouldn't care.
I don't care.
But for the life of me… I couldn't stop.