The other reason I’ve not made a move is because I like her. I don’t normally like people, not this much. I like her, and I want to fuck her, and I don’t quite know what to do with that. In fact, I want to fuck her so much, it almost worries me, or would, if I worried about such things. It does make me pause, though, and not make a move. It might get messy if I did, and things are critical business wise right now. I can’t afford emotional entanglements.
One of her colleagues approaches the café, about to start his shift. He slows when he sees her, gives her a huge grin, and pulls her into him.
“Congratulations, Cassie,” he says as he pulls her in for a hug.
I want to break his arms for touching all that flesh I covet. Her tiny waist and flared hips make my mouth water. He’s got a hand on her lower back, and I swear he’s purposefully brushing close to the top of her pert, round ass.
“Thanks, Marty.”
“New job and engaged all in one week. You’re not wasting time, are you?”
Engaged? What the fuck?
My stomach sinks.
Shit.
Fuck me, this is bad. Not only her getting engaged, but my reaction tells me I might feel something a bit more than mere lust for Cassie. I don’t recall the last time I felt such a punch to the gut.
I tell myself it’s because I worry for her, even though I barely know her. She’s only in her very early twenties; I remember her telling me as much. I glance down, and sure enough, on her left ring finger is a small diamond. It’s shitty compared to the one I’d have given her.
I recall then, her telling me a while ago she was seeing someone, but she’d made it sound casual, and he sounded like a loser. He didn’t like to travel, she told me, or like dogs, and he loved his routines. Is that who she’s given herself to?
What. The. Fuck?
The fact I’m ruminating on the kind of ring I’d buy the girl pulls me up so short I don’t move. I’m glued to the spot and only realize I’m blocking the way when Marty steps around me with a puzzled glance as he heads on his way.
Why the fuck did I think about buying this girl a ring?
“Congratulations, Cassie,” I say, the words bitter and sharp, like gone off food turning rancid on my tongue.
She glances at me from under her long lashes and flushes a nice shade of pink. “Thank you, Konstantin.”
I swear the girl is attracted to me, but hey, if she’s just got engaged, maybe I’ve been reading her all wrong.
“When’s the wedding?” I ask.
“Oh, not for a long while. We decided to go for a long engagement.” Her voice is low and husky. Sexy as hell.
Her partner must be a fool. If she were mine, I’d have her down the aisle immediately. Take all that delectable flesh off the market straightaway.
Fuck it, if she were mine, I’d probably steal her away and lock her in a castle, or my huge house in Paris. I don’t own a castle. I could, if I wanted to. Far too cold and creepy for my tastes. I don’t even like that old house my friend Andrius owns. It’s beautiful, but it’s dark, and the upkeep alone gives me nightmares.
Maybe, though, I’d buy a big house, in the middle of nowhere, and take her and put her in it. Something nice, pure, and golden just for me.
She is too golden. Cassie lights up my day like the sun, and how much of a cliché am I thinking such sappy thoughts. My own little ray of sunshine, but now she’s going to shine exclusively for someone else.
I push my way through the doors of the shop and order a coffee from the skinny guy behind the counter, my mood soured. I’d come here to feel better, and now I feel worse.
Logically, I’ve no right to be pissed at Cassie, but I am.
Ten minutes later, as I’m nearly done, she comes in and heads to the counter. She grabs herself a tea, and then comes and sits at a table three down from mine. She gazes out the window as she takes a break and sips at her drink.
I study her, really look at her. The girl isn’t perfect. Her nose is crooked slightly near the top. Her mouth has a slight downturn in repose, which shouldn’t be, but is as cute as hell. A dog walks by the window, and she smiles at it, and my heart honestly beats a little faster.
Her smile is gorgeous. She has dimples either side of her mouth, but one side is much deeper and bigger than the other. Her teeth are white but not perfectly even, one of her incisors, on the right, is slightly crooked and crosses over the other tooth, giving her a charming smile.
I contrast it to Liza’s ten-thousand-pound smile; big, totally even, and so white it looks blue in some lights. I prefer Cassie’s crooked, dimpled grin.
She’s got freckles too, just a few, smattering her nose and cheeks. Normally, I go for glamorous women, but I love that her golden blonde-brown hair is natural. I can’t see the regrowth someone like Liza gets after a few weeks between salon trips.
Her eyes are what I love the most, though. They’re such a stunning shade of warm light green, surrounded by thick brown lashes that I bet turn lighter after long summer days.
Slowly, as if scared to do so, she swivels her gaze my way. I don’t look away, not immediately, and I see the intake of her breath, the parting of her lips, the way her pupils dilate.
Yeah, she might be engaged, and she might be far too sensible to ever take a roll in the sheets with a thug like me, but part of her wants to.
God, the things I could do to her, teach her. There’s something in Cassie, something I get a glimpse of every now and again; a connection, a recognition of a darker, wilder part she tries to keep locked away. I see it, though; I see her.
Pity she’s decided to bury it so deep she’ll settle for a man who buys her a shitty little ring, and doesn’t want to travel with her, or entertain her dreams. Her choice, though.
I down my coffee, stand, throw my cup away and walk out without a backward glance.
I’m going to cut her and this stupid, cliched, twee little coffee shop out of my fucking life, like a cancer. One sharp incision and done. I won’t be coming back here.
Cassie is leaving. Cassie is getting engaged, and she’s nothing to me, so I need to put her out of my mind.
I do too. Every now and again, I think of my gorgeous dirty-blonde barista, but I don’t go back to the coffee shop anymore, and I put all my energies into the latest takeovers.
Life carries on as normal, which for me means boring, stressful, boring, stressful, in alternating measures. I break up with Liza, and after a brief flirtation with a world-famous supermodel, who looks thirty until she takes all her makeup off, and then she looks gawky and young, I become oddly celibate. I’m not a man who denies himself the fun things in life, but I stop fucking around, I stop dating, and I focus entirely on business.
Yet, every now and again, for some unknown reason, I think about my little blonde barista and where she is now. Sometimes, at night, I awake from filthy dreams about her, and I tell myself it’s because I’m not getting any, which for a man like me is an unnatural situation. Those dreams sometimes linger for hours, though, teasing me, taunting me, and I must forget her all over again.
Then one day, six months later, Cassie comes back into my life … or at least her picture does.
My little ray of sunshine is back.
Epilogue
Konstantin
London-Now