Chapter 1
ALINA
There’s no hiding the pout as I stand outside Marie’s Café, the warmth of the coffee cup in my hand unable to fight away the sadness in my chest. This has been my favorite coffee shop ever since I started college.
In this place, I studied, and I cried when things got too hard, and I got free donuts when I passed tests.
Marie is not around anymore, being a ninety-year-old lady, but her son and his wife are, and they take care of the place, keeping the vibe of a family coffee shop.
And I feel like I’m part of it too. It’s a big thing for a girl whose parents never batted an eye in her direction.
A black Tesla screeches to a halt in front of me, making me jump. Genevieve puts her head out of the window, grinning at me. I roll my eyes.
“You’ve been driving ever since we started college,” I tell her as I circle the car to the passenger door.
“How can you be so bad at it?” I throw my suitcase in the back seat.
No need to open the trunk to know Gen has filled it to the brim with her stuff.
I take the passenger seat and barely manage to snap on the seatbelt before she buries a foot in the gas pedal.
“I’m not bad at driving,” she replies. “I enjoy putting some personality to it. That’s all.”
Rolling my eyes again, I look out the window and try to hide my smile.
Genevieve Delaporte has been my best friend since we joined the university together.
Computer science is a tough major, and even tougher for girls.
Everyone, professors and students alike, goes out of their way to make it clear they don’t think we belong.
Gen gave up on the pressure. She wasn’t passionate about the course anyway, so she dropped it in favor of an English major with a minor in marketing. She’s being a realist with the minor since her father owns a big company and he can give her a job.
I’m more hardheaded than she is. Even after she dropped and I became the sole girl in several of my classes, I didn’t give up. No, I’m too good at it, and my grades prove that. It doesn’t matter how much they tell me I don’t belong; I will make a place for myself.
“So, why were you sulking?” she asks as we cut past cars to leave town.
“I was not.”
“You so were.” And she reaches out and plucks the coffee cup from my fingers. I let her because she’s my best friend, and we’re used to that. She takes a sip and hums in delight. “God, how could you sulk with coffee this good? What is that?”
“Hazelnut latte. Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely. Marie’s Café is the best. But it doesn’t explain the sulking. Did you bomb a test?”
I scoff. “Respect me. I don’t bomb tests.”
“No, you don’t, because you’re a nerd.”
I stick my tongue out at her. We might be twenty-one, but I haven’t let my inner child die. Then I remember the news I received inside the coffee shop, and my face falls again. “You won’t guess what’s happening with them.”
“Marie’s Café?”
“Yeah.” I release a sigh, half-turning in the seat to face her. “There’s a big building company trying to buy them out.”
Genevieve arches an eyebrow. “Um. Good for them?”
“No! That’s not good for them.”
“Why not?”
“They don’t want to sell, but the company is pushing them into it.
Did you notice how everyone on that block is closing?
That’s because this company is buying everyone out to build a shopping mall.
And when the construction begins, they’ll make it hard for any clients to reach the coffee shop, so they either close their doors or they sell out.
It’s awful.” This Blumberg Company is devil-sent.
It must be. They’ve been pressing hard to buy the coffee shop, and the owners look more and more defeated every time I see them.
I noticed the moods changing, and I had no idea why.
Gen tuts. “When you put it like that... We have been seeing a bunch of small stores closing around, right? It almost feels like a trend.”
“It is a trend. Malls taking over local shops. Huge supermarkets are taking over grocery stores. There are franchises all over. Local bookshops are dying out, too.”
Genevieve chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment.
We leave town and aim for the highway. “You know what, Ali.” And she grasps at my fingers.
“We can’t change everything. Some things are awful, yeah, but we don’t have control over them.
So if we don’t have any control, we should not get upset.
” She squeezes my fingers as I open my mouth to reply.
“Besides! We’re going out for a short vacation! Stop dampening the mood!”
And before I can say anything else, she turns the radio volume up and lets music pour into the car. She grins when I try to complain, then points at her ears to show she can’t hear me. Damned BFF.
And though I hate it, Gen might be right.
We can’t control everything, and I hate seeing people getting hurt when there’s nothing I can do.
That’s why I love programming so much. You type some code in, and it’s supposed to do something.
If it doesn’t, it’s because a part of it was written wrong.
Machines are dependable and predictable, and they can’t hurt you.
We enter the highway and Gen rolls both the windows down.
The wind messes up my hair, but I don’t mind it that much.
We are having a week off. And it’s the first time in forever I’ll get to see the ocean.
Even with everything happening, my parents and college, and how hard it is to find an internship, I still have my best friend.
She drives for an hour or so, changing the songs, turning the volume down so we can chat, and we take selfies and enjoy ourselves. Finally, she takes a turn but passes the town and keeps going.
“Not in town?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Dad likes his privacy. The house is on a private beach.”
Fancy. I often forgot Gen has money. She’s so grounded it doesn’t look like it.
Even so, when we reach the house, my jaw drops.
It’s not a house. It’s more like a small mansion, all glass and dark wood, a wrap-around porch, balconies on the second floor.
Trees create a wall on both sides of the house, giving it even more privacy.
The blue ocean opens ahead, and this whole thing is like walking into a dream.
“Wow,” I say, exiting the car.
Gen laughs. “Right? Dad works so much; he thought we needed a place like this.”
“He was right. Everyone does,” I tease, and she laughs with me. I try to make it to the backseat to grab my suitcase, but Gen grabs my hand and tugs me on.
“Leave it. Dad will pick them up later.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Come on, Gen. I know you. You probably have three suitcases in the trunk. There’s no way your father can carry all that.”
“He so can. He’s really strong.” And she mocks flexing a bicep.
I still have my doubts as we make our way to the front door. A silhouette moves across the living room, but I don’t get to see who it is. I’ve never met Gen’s father, but she makes him seem like a good person. He does everything he can for her, even if they spend so long parted.
Gen rings the doorbell and the door flings open. A wall of white stands there, and I’m confused for a moment before Gen throws her arms around a person. Oh, it’s not a wall, it’s a person. Makes sense.
“Hey, Dad!”
He hugs her back, stroking her back. “What took you so long?” he asks, and his voice is, wow. Wow. Pure honey. All thick and warm. I shiver, and I don’t even know why. Today is so warm.
Mr. Delaporte is so freaking tall. Like, basketball player tall, but not as slim.
I guess he’d be along the lines of Shaquille O’Neal.
The man has fingers as thick as my wrist, and I’m not a skinny girl.
Mr. Delaporte is all strong, but not gym-strong.
Strong like a person who could lift a car. With one hand.
Gen lets him go, then turns to me. “This is Alina. She’s my bestie. Treat her well, Dad.”
He looks down at me, and the electric blue in his orbs is shocking. They electrocute me to the spot, and I can’t move. Wow, he’s gorgeous too. And he must be, what? At least forty? I’ve never been attracted to older guys. Not until this moment.
He stares back for a second or two, then looks away. “How are you?” he says, as an afterthought, then shows us his back and enters the house. Ouch. Totally ignored. “Come on in. Make yourselves at home.” And he disappears into the inner corridors.
Gen walks in, and I follow her. My legs are strangely mushy. This is so weird. I’ve never had such a reaction to a man. Not that I’m experienced, which I am not, but this sort of visceral, raw reaction? Never.
Well, it means nothing. He’s Gen’s father. I could never even dream of having something with him. Besides, he didn’t seem to care. Not even a bit. A man like him? Older, handsome, brawny? He must have a line of women wanting a chance with him.
I close the door behind me, then walk into the foyer.
There’s a mirror over the sideboard, and I stop to check myself.
My dark hair is a mess of knots; my cheeks are bright pink.
I chew on my bottom lip. Did Mr. Delaporte notice?
God, I hope not. Maybe he turned away because he couldn’t bear looking at me.
My gaze drops to the sideboard itself. Mr. Delaporte left his wallet here, and a couple of visit cards spilled from inside it. The name on the uppermost card catches my eye.
Blumberg Company?
I pick the card up. What a coincidence. The company that’s trying to buy Marie’s Café. Does he work for them?
“Oh, that’s Dad’s company,” Gen says, propping her chin on my shoulder.
I snap my head to gape at her. “What?”
“Yeah. Grandma started it, and he’s the boss now.”
I stare at her as if she spoke another language. “But... The Blumberg company? I thought you were Delaporte.”
“I am. Dad is Lance Blumberg Delaporte. I told you, Grandma started the company.”
My jaw drops. No way. There’s no way he is the man responsible for closing all those stores! For attacking the coffee shop I love like it means nothing! Heat spreads down my neck, but the tiny crush that started two seconds ago burns to a crisp.
No matter how handsome and strong he is, there’s no way I could ever love someone as evil as him. Someone as greedy. This is completely done, and it hasn’t even started.