The scent of freshly brewed coffee and old books filled the air as Ethan followed Claire into the cozy little bookstore café. It was nothing like the sleek, high-end places he usually frequented. There were no polished marble floors or velvet-upholstered chairs, no waiters in crisp uniforms. Instead, there were wooden shelves packed with well-loved books, mismatched chairs, and a chalkboard menu with handwritten specials.
Claire walked up to the counter, completely at ease in the warm atmosphere. "Two coffees, please," she told the barista, then glanced at Ethan. "Unless you want something fancy? Some caramel-mocha-truffle thing with imported cocoa from Switzerland?"
Ethan smirked. "Black is fine."
She shot him a teasing look. "Oh wow, a billionaire who drinks plain black coffee. I'm shocked."
He chuckled, intrigued by how easily she spoke to him. Most people either tried to impress him or acted overly cautious, afraid of saying the wrong thing. But Claire? She had no hesitation.
As they waited for their drinks, she turned to him with a curious expression. "So, do I get to know the name of the man I just assaulted with scalding coffee?"
Ethan leaned against the counter, amused. "Ethan Calloway."
Claire froze for half a second, blinking rapidly. "Wait. Ethan Calloway? As in Calloway Industries? The billionaire?"
His smile widened. "That's me."
She let out a groan and buried her face in her hands. "Of course. Of course the one time I completely embarrass myself, it has to be with someone ridiculously important."
Ethan tilted his head. "So if I were just a regular guy, it wouldn't be as embarrassing?"
She peeked at him between her fingers. "Oh, it would still be humiliating. But now it's, like, a headline-worthy disaster. Local Woman Ruins Billionaire's Suit, Offers Cheap Coffee in Apology."
He laughed—a real laugh, not the polite chuckle he reserved for business meetings. "You're something else, Claire."
Her hands slowly lowered. "You remembered my name."
"I have a good memory."
Before Claire could respond, the barista handed them their coffees. She grabbed hers and led the way to a small table near a bookshelf. Ethan followed, noticing the way she effortlessly fit into this space, like she belonged here.
"So," she said, wrapping her hands around her cup. "I've read about you. Business magazines love you. 'Self-made billionaire,' 'Financial genius,' 'Man Who Can Buy Anything.'" She arched an eyebrow. "Is it true?"
Ethan took a sip of his coffee before responding. "Depends on what you mean."
She tilted her head. "Can you really buy anything?"
He set his cup down, meeting her gaze. "Not everything has a price."
Claire studied him for a moment before nodding, as if she had expected that answer. "Good. I'd hate to think the world was that predictable."
For a while, they simply sat there, sipping coffee and talking. Claire told him about the bookstore—how she worked part-time here while juggling freelance writing. She loved books, stories, and the simple joy of helping someone find the perfect read.
Ethan listened, captivated by the passion in her voice. It was rare for him to meet someone whose ambitions weren't driven by money or status. Claire wasn't trying to climb any social ladder. She was just… herself.
"So," she said eventually, stirring the last bit of her coffee, "what brings a billionaire to my part of the city?"
He considered telling her the truth—that he had been on his way to yet another high-stakes meeting, that his life was a constant cycle of deals and negotiations. But instead, he leaned back in his chair and smirked.
"Apparently, fate. And a very clumsy woman with too much coffee."
Claire laughed, shaking her head. "Well, I'd say fate owes you a new suit, then."
He held her gaze, something unspoken passing between them.
Maybe fate owed him more than that. Maybe fate had just given him something priceless—something no amount of money could buy.