CHAPTER 27

  Olivia's POV

  The morning rush hit like a caffeine-fueled tsunami. I barely had time to breathe between orders. Frantic customers barked their demands as I pirouetted between gleaming machines, my hands a blur of practiced motions.

  "Grande soy latte, extra hot!"

  "Venti cold brew, light ice!"

  "Quad espresso, stat!"

  I nodded, smiled, and churned out drinks faster than I could blink. The air hung thick with the rich aroma of freshly ground beans and steamed milk. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I juggled pitchers and pumps, my mind focused solely on not screwing up the following order.

  "Can I get your finest latte, please?"

  That voice. Smooth as silk, dripping with charm. My heart skipped a beat as I slowly turned, praying I'd imagined it.

  Nope. There he stood, Christopher Wallace himself, looking like he'd just stepped off a GQ cover. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in my deer-in-headlights expression.