As I sat there, the breeze brushed against my skin like a quiet secret. The sun rose slowly, stretching gold across the sky, and the scent of lavender drifted through the air. For a moment, the world felt softer. I finally understood the proverb that says peace sweetens the breeze. Some feelings cannot be described. They must simply be lived.
I was floating in that stillness when my alarm shattered it.
"Dammit… I'm late."
This park was my ritual. My escape before reality demanded its payment. And now I had to run back to it.
I rushed through the streets of New York, barely watching where I was going, when I collided with someone hard enough to stop me mid-step.
"I'm so sorry—so sorry!" I called over my shoulder without slowing down.
A minute later, I stood in front of it.
BREW & MUSE.
The only place currently keeping my life stitched together.
I pushed open the glass door. The bell chimed softly as warmth wrapped around me. Roasted coffee. Cinnamon. Safety. I slipped inside, hoping Brenda wouldn't catch me before I tied my apron.
"Eleanor Winslow! Are you serious?"
I froze.
"Oh no."
"This is the third time this week."
I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
"Brenda, I'm sorry. The water canal got wrecked and I had to make sure Elena got to school and—"
She cut me off with a look. Not anger. Disappointment.
"Eleanor, you used that excuse Monday. And last week. I don't want to let you go. I know how hard it is for you and your sister. But this can't keep happening."
"It won't," I said quickly. "I'll do better."
Brenda wasn't just my boss. When my parents disappeared like we were a mistake they regretted, she stepped in without ever saying it out loud. The shop was her life. I refused to become another burden.
I inhaled, tied my apron tight, and put on my best smile.
Work began.
The day was relentless. Orders piled up. My legs burned. By hour four, I was running on caffeine fumes and stubbornness.
"Eleanor, table three hasn't been served," Brenda called.
"I'm on it."
From behind, the man looked expensive. Black suit, sharp tailoring. Not the kind of customer who worried about loose change.
"Good afternoon, sir. What can I get for you?"
"One strong black coffee. No sugar."
His voice was low. Controlled. The kind that didn't need to be loud to command attention.
"Right away."
Who even drinks coffee without sugar?
I prepared it carefully, balancing the cup on my tray. My hands were trembling slightly from exhaustion. A tourist stepped back without looking.
The tray tilted.
Hot espresso splashed across the front of his charcoal suit.
My stomach dropped.
"I'm so sorry! I—"
I reached forward to help, but a hand wrapped around my wrist.
The world went still.
His grip wasn't rough. It was certain.
I looked up.
He wasn't staring at the stain.
He was staring at me.
His eyes were a sharp, unsettling blue, studying me like I was something worth memorizing.
"You're shaking, Eleanor."
My breath caught.
I hadn't told him my name.
My gaze flickered to the tag on my apron, but the way he said it… it didn't feel like he'd just read it. It felt deliberate.
"I'll pay for the cleaning," I said quickly, trying to pull my hand back.
He didn't let go.
Instead, his thumb brushed over my pulse.
"I don't think that will be necessary," he murmured.
A slow, dangerous smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
"But I'm sure we'll find another way for you to settle the debt."
He released me, placed money on the table, and walked out like nothing had happened.
I stood there, heart racing, wrist still warm from his touch.
And for the first time that morning, the breeze no longer felt peaceful.
Atlas POV
The air in the shop tasted of burnt beans and cheap sugar, a pedestrian scent that should have offended me. But then I saw her, and the oxygen seemed to vanish from the room entirely. She moved behind that scratched wooden counter with a frantic, unpolished grace, her skin a deep, velvet mahogany that made the morning light look dull by comparison. Every other person in the shop was a blur of gray motion, but Eleanor was in high definition—a masterpiece of light and shadow tucked away in a corner of the world that didn't deserve her. I didn't just want to look at her; I wanted to peel back the layers of her exhaustion until I found the girl who matched the name on her badge. I wanted to feel her, to touch her, to do what can't be done. I can't even find words to describe her, she was perfection.
She was a 'Bright One' drowning in a dim life, and as the espresso stained my suit, I felt the first true spark of hunger I'd known in years. I wasn't angry about the mess. I was grateful. It gave me a reason to touch the pulse jump-starting under her midnight skin, and a reason to never let her go.Lord knows how badly I wanted to claim her,how badly I wanted to make her mine. I sound like those crazy psychopath, I know that but for this lady I would lay down an empire down. The look on her face when I told her about how she could pay me, I would just like to capture that face for eternity.
"Fabian ?" I questioned
"Yes sir ?"
"Who owns that coffee shop on the 4th avenue?" I silently asked facing my phone
"That coffee shop is held by a holding company,sir, a small landlord name Brenda Miller. Why? Did the meeting go poorly ? If I may questioned"
"The meeting didn't happen actually but something better did,something far more interesting. I finally met her and I find her more interesting,we will skip the first part. " I answered silently
"But..I thought"
"You thought nothing Fabian,obey and shut it up" I told him coldly
"Okay sir but should I put a detail on her ?"
No I can't have anyone looking in her way if not me.
"No. I'll be the one watching her. Just get me the leverage. And Fabian?"
"Yes sir?"
"Find out if I will be possible to buy the coffee shop"
"Okay sir,where are we headed to then?"
"The office" I replied but my thought still floating with her face in my mind making me crazy,being so close to her felt like being close to an ungodly sin,so tempting. Her scent lingering through my nose making my mind tingling and wanting her more. Fuck she will be the end of me.
* * *
The 50th floor was silent,a sanctuary of glass and steel that usually calmed me. Today, it felt like a cage holding me captive. I headed for my double doors, my mind already back in the cramped coffee shop,tracing the lines of Eleanor's face. I needed to see her again.
"Mr Ferrenti, you're four minutes late for the merges call"
I didn't stop. I didn't even turn—I knew that voice—sharp,nasal,and perpetually unimpressed. Claudia.
"Cancel it" I snapped
I heard the frantic click—clack of her heels as she scurried to keep up with my stride. Claudia had been my secretary for three years,and yet she still hadn't learnt that when I look like this, 'no' is the only safe answer,the only thing she learnt was how to climb into my sheets.
"Cancel it ?" She repeated,her voice rising an octave. She darted in front of me just as I tried to reached my door,clutching a tablet to her chest like a shield. Her perfume—something expensive and suffocatingly floral— clashed with my memory of cinnamon and sugar clinging to my senses.
"Atlas,the board has been waiting—and you have salt..no wait is that sugar on your lapel ? Wait is that coffee on your shirt ?!".
She reached out,her hand twitching as if she intended to brush my shoulder.
"Touch me,Claudia and you'll be looking for a new job by lunch".
She froze,her face paling. I leaned in, my shadow swallowing her whole.
"I want the office cleared.No calls.No interruptions.If a fire starts,let it burn. Do.You.Understand?"
"But the—"
"Do.You.Understand ?"
"Yes sir" she whispered,stepping aside.
"And Claudia?"
"Yes sir?"
"Change that damn perfume—or you know what ? Don't wear any more perfume"
"Ok—"
I slammed the door before I could even hear her response, the click of the lock a sweet relief.
My office was a tomb of glass and steel,the lights were dimmed to a low,amber glow. I ignored the stack of contracts and the blinking light on the desk phone. Instead I went straight to the corner hidden by the velvet curtain. I picked up a charcoal pencil, my hand moving before my brain could even catch up. I didn't need a photo. I could still see the curve of her jaw, the exact shade of her skin, etched into the back of my eyelids.I needed her face into sketch into something greater than just a tiny piece of paper.