A wet encounter

AN: This is just the intro chapter. MC will be introduced in the next chapter.

Words: 3.8k

Big chapters. Slow release. 

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The Williamsburg Diner was alive with its usual hum of clinking plates, half-hearted orders, and the ever-present chatter of customers trying to avoid the storm outside. Max Black stood behind the counter, pouring yet another cup of coffee for Earl, who was sharing the stories she didn't ask for. Her sharp eyes darted toward the front door, where Caroline Channing was pacing with a cupcake tray, practicing her sales pitch to the wall.

"Caroline, it's a cupcake, not a timeshare. Stop scaring the customers," Max quipped.

Caroline turned, her perfectly styled hair somehow defying the diner's fluorescent lights. "Max, this is our brand. Presentation is everything! We need to sell these to build our cupcake empire."

Before Max could fire back, the door burst open, letting in a gust of wind and rain. A tall man entered, shaking off his drenched trench coat and brushing back his dark, wet hair. His tailored suit clung to him like a second skin, hinting at a physique that had clearly seen a gym or two. The diner seemed to pause as the man stood there, surveying the room with sharp blue eyes that exuded confidence and something else—mystery.

"Great," Max muttered under her breath. "Another one of life's Instagram filters."

The man walked toward the counter, his polished leather shoes squelching slightly with each step. Caroline's cupcake pitch faltered mid-sentence as her eyes locked onto him. Even Sophie, lounging at her usual booth near the back, tilted her head up, her gaze narrowing in on the newcomer like a hawk spotting prey.

"Rain's a killer, huh?" Max said flatly as he approached, grabbing a mug and pouring coffee without asking.

"More like a cleanser," the man replied smoothly, his voice deep and rich. He pulled out a sleek wallet and handed her a crisp bill. "Keep the change."

Max glanced at the hundred-dollar bill, then at him. "What are you expecting? A lobster dinner?"

He chuckled, his smile easy but disarming. "Just coffee. For now."

Caroline jumped in, her polished manners kicking into overdrive. "Welcome to Williamsburg Diner! I'm Caroline Channing, co-founder of Max's Homemade Cupcakes. Can I interest you in a complimentary—"

"Complementary means free," Max interjected, smirking. "This guy clearly doesn't need it."

The man turned his attention to Caroline, his gaze lingering just long enough to make her blush. "Alex Wilson," he introduced himself, extending a hand. "And a cupcake sounds perfect."

Sophie appeared out of nowhere, leaning dramatically against the counter. Her sequined dress shimmered even in the diner's dim lighting. "Cupcake, huh? I can offer you something sweeter, Mr. Wilson."

Alex raised an eyebrow, amused. "And what might that be?"

Sophie leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Polish hospitality. Let me guess, you're a businessman. Or a model. Or both?"

"Neither, actually," Alex said, taking a bite of the cupcake Caroline handed him. His expression softened as he chewed, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face. "This is… incredible."

Max crossed her arms. "Let me guess, you've never had carbs before?"

He laughed, setting the half-eaten cupcake down. "Let's just say I've never had one this good. You must be Max."

Her eyes narrowed. "How'd you figure that out? Psychic powers?"

"You fit the brand," he said simply, gesturing toward the cupcake box with "Max's Homemade" written in bold letters. "No-nonsense, sharp edges. You probably made this recipe."

Max blinked, caught off guard. "Okay, Sherlock. What's your deal? You don't look like the kind of guy who wanders into diners during storms."

"I was in the neighborhood," Alex said vaguely, taking another sip of coffee. "Thought I'd try something new."

Caroline tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "So, what do you do, Alex?"

He hesitated for the briefest moment, then smiled. "I'm in entertainment."

"Entertainment?" Sophie repeated, her eyes lighting up. "Like movies? TV? Please tell me you're casting for something. I've got range... comedy, drama, action—"

Max rolled her eyes. "She's got range all right. From delusional to desperate."

Ignoring her, Alex chuckled. "I'm a producer. Mostly behind the scenes."

Caroline's face lit up. "A movie producer? That's amazing! Do you know anyone famous?"

"A few people," Alex said, his tone casual but evasive.

Max wasn't buying it. "Yeah, sure. And I'm the Queen of England. What's your real story, Rain Man?"

Alex leaned forward slightly, meeting her gaze with an intensity that made her momentarily forget how to breathe. "Let's just say I'm good at spotting talent. And potential."

Sophie practically swooned. "Well, you've come to the right place. We're oozing potential, aren't we, girls?"

Caroline nodded enthusiastically. "Max and I are working on growing our cupcake business. We just need the right investor to see our vision."

"Good luck with that," Max muttered.

Alex studied them for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I can help. This Sunday, maybe?"

Caroline's eyes widened. "Really?"

Max shot him a skeptical look. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Alex said, standing up and sliding on his coat. "Just… curiosity."

As he turned to leave, Sophie called after him. "You're not leaving without giving me your number, are you?"

He glanced back, smiling faintly. "Let's just say you'll see me again."

The door swung shut behind him, leaving the three women staring after him, each lost in their own thoughts.

Caroline was the first to speak. "Did that just happen? Did a ridiculously handsome movie producer just walk into our diner and say he might help us?"

Max shook her head. "Don't get your hopes up, Princess. Guys like that don't stick around."

Sophie sighed dreamily. "If he's sticking to anyone, it's me. I'm irresistible."

Max smirked. "Yeah, irresistible like a bad rash."

Caroline ignored their banter, staring out at the rain-slicked street. "He'll come back. I can feel it."

Max rolled her eyes but couldn't shake the feeling that Caroline might be right. Something about Alex Wilson was different. Mysterious. And for reasons she couldn't explain, Max found herself hoping she'd get the chance to figure him out.

The diner's front door swung shut with a soft clang, leaving behind a charged silence. Max wiped the counter aimlessly, Caroline leaned against the cupcake display in a daze, and Sophie sighed dreamily, resting her chin in her hands.

The moment was broken when the bathroom door creaked open, and Oleg emerged, looking pale and slightly disheveled. He adjusted his suspenders and gave a loud groan.

"Ugh, that bathroom—pure evil," Oleg declared, waving a hand in front of his nose as if the air still haunted him. "I don't know what I ate, but it feels like I died twice in there."

Max didn't even look up. "Trust me, Oleg. Whatever happened in that bathroom died way more than twice."

He walked over to the counter, his usual swagger dulled by discomfort. "So, what did I miss? Why are you three standing around like you just saw George Clooney walk in here wearing nothing but his charm?"

Caroline lit up instantly. "Not Clooney, but close! Oleg, you won't believe this... a tall, dark-haired, and handsome movie producer just walked in and said he might help us with our cupcake business!"

Oleg blinked, clearly unimpressed. "Handsome, you say? Did you at least ask if he likes blond Ukrainian men with exceptional… qualities?" He wiggled his eyebrows, trying to return to his usual self.

Sophie waved him off dramatically. "Please, Oleg. A man like that wouldn't waste his time with you. He'd go straight for me. We had a moment... didn't you girls see the way he smiled at me?"

Max snorted. "Yeah, he smiled at you the same way I smile at a broken lamp—curious but not interested."

Oleg leaned on the counter, his curiosity finally piqued. "So, who is this man? Is he rich? Does he need a butler? I'm very good at butling."

"He said his name was Alex Wilson," Caroline said, her voice tinged with excitement. "He's a movie producer!"

Oleg frowned, tapping his chin. "Alex Wilson… Alex Wilson…" He snapped his fingers. "Wait, isn't he that billionaire producer who's always in the tabloids? The one who's mysterious, never gives interviews, always searching for new talents, investing in random ideas and business, and looks like he could make a rock fall in love with him?"

Sophie gasped. "Billionaire? Did you say billionaire?"

Caroline clapped her hands together. "Oleg, are you sure? That sounds exactly like him!"

Max rolled her eyes. "Oh great. So now, not only is he rich and good-looking, but he's also mysterious? What's next... he rescues puppies on weekends?"

Oleg shrugged. "I don't know if it's him, but the guy I'm thinking of is loaded. If he's hanging around here, he's either really bored or looking for something or..." His eyes went toward Max's boobs. "Someone."

Caroline practically sparkled with determination. "It doesn't matter why he's here. What matters is that he saw potential in us! This could be the break we've been waiting for!"

Max shook her head. "Caroline, this isn't a Disney movie. Guys like him don't just walk into diners and change people's lives."

Sophie smirked. "You're just mad because he didn't look at you the way he looked at me."

Max turned to her with a deadpan expression. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sophie. Did I miss the part where he proposed to you?"

Oleg chuckled. "Max, you're jealous. Admit it. You want Mr. Billionaire to whisk you away on his private jet and feed you chocolate-covered cupcakes."

"I'd rather choke on a regular cupcake," Max muttered, though her cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

Caroline grabbed Max by the shoulders, her face full of hope. "Max, don't you see? This could be our chance to finally get out of this diner and make something of ourselves. You can't just dismiss it."

Max sighed, shrugging her off. "Fine, Princess. Let's say he does come back. What's your big plan? Are you going to pitch him a cupcake empire while Sophie tries to seduce him and Oleg asks for a job cleaning his pool?"

"Hey, I'd be a great pool boy!" Oleg protested.

Caroline raised her chin. "If he comes back, I'll show him how serious we are about our business. We'll have a business plan, cupcake samples, the works!"

Max rolled her eyes but smirked. "You better hurry up then. If he's as rich and famous as you think, guys like him don't stay in one place for long."

"Unless Sophie ties him to a chair," Oleg added with a grin.

"Don't tempt me," Sophie said, flipping her hair dramatically.

The group fell silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Outside, the rain continued to pour, its rhythm a steady backdrop to their hopes, doubts, and schemes.

Caroline broke the silence, her voice steady. "He'll come back. I know it."

Max shook her head but couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips. "You're hopeless."

"And you're secretly curious," Caroline shot back, grinning.

Max didn't respond. Instead, she glanced out the window at the rain-slicked street where Alex Wilson had disappeared, wondering what his deal really was—and if they'd ever see him again.

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[NIGHT TIME]

That night, the storm howled outside the Williamsburg Diner, its rain unforgivingly drumming upon windows and rooftops like a symphony of chaos. Within her apartment, Sophie Kaczynski had never been more alive.

Clad in her favorite sequined nightgown because, of course, even in the privacy of her bedroom, she had to look glamorous. Sophie sprawled across her bed, nibbling on a chocolate truffle and staring at the ceiling. Her mind wasn't on the storm. It wasn't on her favorite Polish soap opera, paused on the TV screen across the room.

"Alex," she whispered, rolling the name around on her tongue like fine wine. "Handsome. Rich. Young. A movie producer. And that smile? A Polish girl could die happy just looking at him!"

She closed her eyes and played back their brief exchange, of course, because Sophie never let reality get in the way of a good fantasy.

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In her dream, Sophie is no longer Sophie Kaczynski, the whacked-up upstairs neighbor who subsists on chaos and innuendo, but Sophie K., the Hollywood starlet, Alex Wilson's latest heroine in her latest blockbuster movie.

And she begins, walking down the red carpet in a shimmering gown of gold, the thousand camera lights flashing around her as screaming fans and snapping paparazzi call for her, it's as if everything is about her every second, step, breath; at the end of it, Alex stands tall, wearing a tailored black suit that looks perfectly cut for his strong, athletic build. He keeps his blue eyes focused on her, it seems like she's all there is in the universe.

"Sophie," Alex said, extending a hand as she approached. "You look radiant tonight."

"Aleks," Sophie responded with a sultry voice, dripping with charm. "You don't look half bad yourself. Are you here to take me away to paradise?"

He smiled that perfect smile, the one that made her knees weak even in the dream. "Not paradise," he said, leaning in close. "Someplace better. Somewhere only for us.

Before Sophie could say anything, the scene shifted—dreams were funny that way. Suddenly they were on a yacht, the kind of vessel that screamed luxury, with its sleek white exterior and sparkling deck. The ocean around them was calm, the water glistening like liquid diamonds under the moonlight.

Alex filled a crystal glass with champagne and handed it to Sophie. "To beauty and ambition," he said, raising his glass.

Sophie clinked her glass against his, her heart racing. "To us," she whispered.

He took a sip, then set his glass aside, stepping closer. The air between them buzzed with tension as Alex reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

"You're unlike anyone I've ever met, Sophie," he murmured, his voice low and intoxicating. "You're bold, fearless… irresistible."

Sophie's breath catches as he pauses, letting his hand linger on her cheek. "Oh, Alex. I knew you felt it too."

The dream shifted as he leaned in, his lips just inches apart from Sophie's. The room transitioned into an elegant grand ballroom this time around. They were dancing there; the rest of the world was moving away with the blur of soft lights and elegant music. Their dress flows over as Alex takes Sophie around and spins her across the floor. The grip on Sophie's waist was firm, and there was a lot of possession about his actions.

"I think I'm falling for you," Alex said, his gaze piercing.

"Only falling?" Sophie teased, her voice teasing yet hopeful. 

He chuckled. "Completely. Irrevocably. You're the star of my life now, Sophie." 

As their lips finally met in a kiss that sent fireworks exploding in Sophie's mind, the sound of a loud CRASH pulled her back to reality. 

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Sophie jolted awake with her heart thumping inside her chest and body tangled into the bedsheets. She blinked around, then realized that it was nothing but a storm that was playing with her by rattling a loose windowpane. 

"Ugh, stupid storm," she whispered, shaking her hair away from her face. But this time when she lay down, the smile on her lips said otherwise.

The dream had felt so real, so vivid. For a moment, she could almost feel the heat of Alex's hand on her cheek, the weight of his gaze on her. And she felt a wet feeling in her panty. 

"Alex," she murmured, pulling her blanket up to her chin. "You're going to fall for me. Just wait."

With that thought firmly in mind, Sophie drifted back to sleep, this time dreaming of wedding bells, private jets, a life filled with red carpets, endless romance, and lots of sex.

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In the apartment below, Max lay on her couch, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. She glanced at the window, listening to the rain, and shook her head.

"I bet Sophie's upstairs dreaming about Alex right now," she murmured to herself.

She wasn't far off from that.

Max groaned as the wind began to howl louder, rattling the thin walls of their rundown apartment. The rain intensified and pounded on every surface, as if it was trying to force its way into their place. The storm had already been bad, but it got worse when the unmistakable sound of glass shattering echoed from their bedroom.

"Oh, come on!" Max yelled, throwing her phone down onto the couch.

Caroline's panicked voice rang out from their bedroom. "Max! The window broke! There's water everywhere!"

Max stomped in to find Caroline thrashing around like a deranged octopus, holding a soggy pillow in one hand and a blanket in the other. The howling wind blew through the shattered window, sending rain spraying inside, soaking the bed and pooling on the floor.

"Calm down, Drama Queen!" Max snapped. "It's a little rain, not the Titanic sinking."

Caroline spun toward her, her perfectly styled hair now a frizzy mess. "Max, this isn't a 'little rain'! The window is gone, the bed is wet, and—oh my gosh, is that mold on the wall?"

Max grabbed a roll of duct tape from the kitchen counter, tossing it in the air like a gunslinger about to draw. "Forget the mold. Grab some plastic bags or something. We're not letting the rain destroy our one piece of furniture that doesn't double as a fire hazard."

Caroline squealed, "Plastic bags? That's your solution?!"

Max rolled her eyes. "What do you want me to do, call FEMA? It's a broken window, Caroline, not the end of the world. Now move!"

With an exasperated sigh, Caroline rummaged through their cabinet and pulled out a stack of garbage bags. Together, they held up the plastic, trying to cover the window while the storm did everything in its power to thwart them.

"Hold it tighter on your side!" Max yelled over the wind.

"I am!" Caroline shot back. "You're the one letting it flap around like a bat at a rave!"

"God forbid the rain ruins your five-star décor," Max grumbled. "Oh wait, we don't have any!"

Caroline huffed, her hands slipping as a gust of wind ripped part of the plastic free. "You know what? You could try being a little more supportive instead of acting like sarcasm is a life skill!"

Max smirked, holding the plastic down with one hand and taping it with the other. "Sarcasm is a life skill. Without it, I wouldn't have survived two years of you panicking over everything from window mold to cupcake liners."

"Excuse me for trying to have standards, Max!" Caroline snapped.

"Oh yeah, because you've really been living the high life since your dad got busted for fraud," Max shot back, her voice teasing but not unkind.

Caroline's eyes widened for a moment before she burst into laughter. "Touché."

The two of them paused, both laughing as the rain pelted the plastic barrier they'd managed to haphazardly tape over the broken window.

"You know," Max said after a moment, her voice softer, "if Alex was here, he'd probably offer to fix this with a solid gold window or something."

Caroline grinned, her cheeks pink from the cold and the thought of Alex. "I bet he'd at least call someone to fix it for us. He seems like the kind of guy who has a guy for everything."

Max snorted. "Yeah, and Sophie would probably 'accidentally' lock us out of the apartment so she could be alone with him while he installed it."

The image made them both laugh harder, their voices rising above the sound of the storm.

Finally, Caroline sat down on the edge of the damp bed, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Do you think we'll see him again?"

Max leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "I don't know, Caroline. Guys like him don't usually stick around places like this. But who knows? Maybe he's not like most guys."

Caroline smiled, her eyes distant. "I hope so. I have a feeling he's… special."

Max raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Special how? Like 'he's going to save us all' special, or 'Sophie's going to ruin our lives over him' special?"

"Maybe both," Caroline said, laughing.

Max sighed, glancing at the taped-up window. "Well, if he does come back, we better make sure we don't look like drowned rats. Now help me clean up this mess before the rain floods us out of here."

Caroline stood, grabbing a towel. "Fine, but if I get pneumonia, I'm blaming you."

Max smirked, grabbing a mop from the corner. "Blame me all you want, Princess. Just make sure to put it in writing so I can frame it."

As they worked to soak up the water pooling on the floor, the storm outside seemed to ease slightly, the howling wind softening into a steady rhythm of rain. For a moment, the apartment felt a little cozier—chaotic, yes, but theirs.

Caroline paused, wringing out a soaked towel. "You know, Max, for someone who pretends not to care, you really do a lot to keep things together around here."

Max gave her a sideways glance, her mop pausing mid-swipe. "Don't go getting sentimental on me, Blondie. I only stick around because I like tormenting you."

Caroline laughed. "Sure you do. But deep down, I know you care."

"Deep down, I'm just too broke to move," Max shot back, though the corner of her mouth tugged upward in a reluctant smile.

The two worked in companionable silence for a while, the storm outside becoming a mere background noise. By the time the floor was mostly dry and the makeshift plastic barrier seemed stable, both women were exhausted.

Caroline flopped onto the bed, her arms spread wide. "Okay, I'm officially done for the night. If the window breaks again, I'm letting the rain take me."

Max dropped the mop into the bucket with a loud clatter. "Same here. If Sophie or Oleg want to complain about the noise tomorrow, they can take it up with Mother Nature."

Caroline rolled onto her side, her face softening. "Max?"

"What?"

"Thanks. For, you know... everything."

Max blinked, caught off guard. She opened her mouth for a sarcastic retort but found herself shrugging instead. "Yeah, well... someone's gotta keep your royal highness alive."

Caroline smiled, her eyes closing as she let exhaustion take over. "Goodnight, Max."

Max turned off the lights, the room plunging into a quiet darkness lit only by the occasional flash of lightning. "Night, Caroline."

As Max settled onto the couch, pulling a blanket over herself, her thoughts drifted to the events of the day. Alex Wilson's sharp blue eyes and disarming smile lingered in her mind longer than she cared to admit.

"Curious," she muttered to herself, staring at the ceiling as the rain tapped softly against the window.

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AN: You already know the drill. Leave some reviews on the way...

Support link: www.pat reon.com/UnknownMaster [11 advance chs] [3 chs/week]

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