Chapter 4

ℂ𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥

Eve's POV (𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥...)

I left my purse on the wooden table when I heard the coffee owner call my name. My cup was ready, and I couldn't be more grateful because being sentenced, no subjected to that crappy table while waiting for my cup to be made was no joke even though it was self-inflicted.

I could have just stayed on the line but nope, here I was. Why? Well for one, I couldn't stand the length of the waiting line and secondly, I just didn't have the strength to suffer. I wasn't weak or anything, just reluctant.

No, pampered.

I dismissed the thought and stepped in front of the line which was an honest attempt to collect my drink from the pretty lady behind the counter who by the way, had called for me moments ago. And as I squeezed myself between weary customers who had to wait longer for their orders and the cold counter which was annoyingly pressing into my abdomen, I began to doubt my common sense. There were so many other places I could've gone to. Places my mother had countlessly begged I visited. But here I was smacked in-between a sea of bodies like a sandwich. A position my mother would certainly disapprove of.

Maybe I did it because of the urge to defy my parents, to stop being that good girl everyone knew was too good to pass up. Maybe this was the best coffee in the state. Maybe I was just being a stubborn son of a gun, or maybe, just maybe I wanted to live a little. Either way, I was here and I didn't regret it. Almost didn't.

I was snapped out of the transient deliberation I had fallen into when I felt the hot sting of my coffee on my fingers. I gasped, my head tilting up to stare at the coffee girl only to meet an apologetic smile plastered on her lips. I smiled inwardly, grateful she hadn't sent me a scrawl instead and sent her a reassuring smile of my own. Placing a couple of pounds on the counter to thank her as all good citizens should, I grabbed my long-awaited cup of coffee and made a turn to move only to be stunted by a very grumpy male voice as he whispered into my ears,

"This isn't the way to treat a gentleman." His voice was so close I could feel his hot breath across the slope of my neck. I jerked back in surprise and turned, hitting his muscled chest in the process.

"What the-" My words died in my mouth, or more appropriately, got stuck as I looked up at him. There was no way in hell anyone could look this handsome. This yummy. He almost looked devilish. Damn! My eyes strolled from his diamond-shaped jaw to his bright sea-green eyes then settled on his plump pink lips.

Lord help me! Those lips looked-

I blushed at the thought. This wasn't me. I didn't get awestruck by hot guys, they got stuck by the sight of me. Usually. I was the rich one, the young one, the one with a famous background. And deep down, I couldn't help but feel relieved at the thought of not being recognized at first sight.

"Lady? Aren't you gonna say sorry or something?" I heard him mutter, which got me snapping my eyes to his.

"Wh-what?" I breathed, trying to understand what the hell he was talking about. Because if it was about me hitting his chest...

"My legs remember?" He continued a little bit sarcastically, with his brows knitted as he keenly watched my every reaction - which wasn't helping by the way. "You stepped on me, lady. I thought pretty girls were supposed to have good manners?"

"Good manners-? What the hell are you talking about? You are the one with bad manners, considering how you've been invading my privacy for the past couple of minutes-"

"Did you forget the part where you stepped on me?" He cut in with a snare, anger flashing in his eyes. He was pissed alright. Maybe attacking him because I was embarrassed wasn't the right way to go. I should have just said sorry and got it over with. But for some reason, I couldn't help not bantering with him, and it was too late to turn back now.

Placing my lips in a stubborn pout, I improvised. "Even if I did step on you, with I didn't, was that the right way to bring my attention to"

"Oh please, could you guys take your musings elsewhere? We are trying to get some coffee here!" Someone spat from the back. That cut me mid-sentence as a series of yeah, seriously and thanks fuck, erupted from irritated customers on the line.

I gave a heavy sigh, grabbed my coffee from the counter and stepped out of the line. Eunice was gonna have a field day when she heard of this. That was if I told her. I moved to the table where my purse had been abandoned and placed my cup beside it. I was about to take my sit and enjoy the amazing task I had just accomplished - when a body slid into the couch opposite mine and placed a cup of cappuccino right next to my bag.

The fuck?

"You still owe me an apology." I heard his infuriating voice groan. Even if it shouldn't, I felt my traitorous body melt into a warm puddle. Lord, his voice.

I rolled my eyes. "Look Mr-"

"Lucas, " He finished.

"Yeah, Lucas. I can't remember stepping on you, and you seem insistent on distorting my peace, so I'm just gonna go-"

"I've never known a woman to be so proud. I thought pride was meant for men but you, my dear, just proved otherwise."

I sat there looking at him like he was crazy. Who does this? Like why the hell was he trying so hard to get under my skin? I just couldn't fathom why-

In fact, fuck this.

I stood up, grabbed my purse and marched out of the cafe. My coffee cup, forgotten. As I pushed through the double doors, I felt a hand softly touch my shoulder. I stepped out of the shop and turned.

"What do you-"

"I'm sorry, that was all you had to say. But never mind, I've just said it for both of us." With that said, he walked past me and into a muscle car. If only I knew what brand of car that was, or any other car for that matter, I might have been able to deduce his station.

Was he a struggling car race driver or a deprived billionaire playboy? It was really hard to tell.

I sighed and began walking towards my Lamborghini when the sole of my boots stepped on something soft but solid. I strode back, bent down and picked it up.

Lo and behold, it was a card-like pouch with openings at its edges. I took a peek inside and found a number written on an effluent piece of paper. Curiously, I turned it around and, "Call me, " was boldly scribbled on that side of the sheet.

Interesting.

I placed the flawless paper back into the pouch and tucked it into my purse, thinking about how long I was going to last before I succumbed to the need to pick up the phone and dial.

Well, if the truth were to be told, I already had the answer to that question. Curiosity always got the better of me.