13 | ☕The CEO Who Asked for Dinner. and Her Sanity ☕
Anya had promised herself that she was done with Atlas Valtieri.
She'd had enough of the brooding CEO with his unsettling aura and silent demeanour.
Every time he stepped into the café, it was like the air shifted, and for some reason, she always found herself caught up in whatever quiet, unspoken drama he seemed to carry with him.
She didn't know why it bothered her so much, but the way his piercing eyes always seemed to find hers, the way everyone around him seemed to cower without him lifting a finger—she was over it.
No more feeling nervous around him. No more awkward silences where her stomach did flips and her palms got sweaty. She wasn't going to play his game anymore, especially since his presence made her feel like she was playing by some rulebook she didn't even know existed.
Enough was enough.
She would simply focus on her job, making coffee, greeting her customers, and leaving all the Atlas Valtieri nonsense behind her. She didn't need a man like him in her life—especially not some silent billionaire CEO who thought he could get whatever he wanted with just a look.
Her focus had always been simple: make a living, help her best friend Kaia run the café, and get through the day without feeling like the ground might swallow her up every time she heard that familiar, quiet clink of the doorbell signalling Atlas's arrival.
But, of course, he didn't care about her promises.
It was as if he had a sixth sense for when Anya was about to give up. As soon as she resolved to stop being affected by him, he seemed to appear out of nowhere, with that same unnerving air about him. And just when she thought she could pretend he wasn't there—he made his presence felt. Again.
Atlas knew that her resolve was fragile.
He had an unspoken understanding that if he pushed just a little bit more, she'd be back in his orbit.
And sure enough, with every passing day, it felt like he did.
He had a way of always showing up at the café at precisely the right—or wrong—moment, staring at her like she was the only person in the room, and sending her mind into a state of chaos she couldn't shake.
It was a typical afternoon at the café—busy with the lunch rush, the steady clinking of cups and plates, and the sound of espresso machines hissing in the background.
Anya was running around, trying to keep up with the flood of orders that seemed to never stop coming.
Her hands were a blur, grabbing mugs, pouring milk, and wiping down counters, all while Kaia, who was supposed to be her backup, seemed far too invested in whatever was happening on her phone.
Anya shot her best friend a pointed look, but Kaia barely noticed, too absorbed in her screen.
Meanwhile, Anya had her eyes darting around the café, trying to anticipate who would be her next customer and whether she had enough time to breathe before she had to make another drink.
But it was in the middle of this chaos that she couldn't help but keep an eye on the door.
And then—just like clockwork—he walked in.
Anya's fingers twitched at the sound of the doorbell, announcing his arrival.
She was already in motion, grabbing mugs and pulling espresso shots, trying to distract herself from the magnetic pull of Atlas's presence.
It was hard not to feel it when he walked in.
The usual low murmur of conversation that filled the café abruptly dropped to an uneasy silence, as if the room collectively held its breath.
Anya had been through this a thousand times before, but somehow today, everything felt... different.
The café was busier than usual, a steady stream of customers flooding in for their lunch break, and Anya barely had time to focus on anything other than the orders piling up.
Her attention flicked over to Kaia, who was—of course—pretending to do something behind the counter rather than actually helping. Anya huffed under her breath. Typical.
But then, the air shifted.
Instead of his usual routine—coming in, looking like he didn't care about anyone around him, ordering his coffee with an aloof glance—Atlas was walking toward the counter. Straight toward her.
Anya's breath caught in her throat. Her stomach dropped, and her pulse quickened. Her instincts were telling her to stay calm, to maintain the professional smile. But her body didn't seem to be listening. It felt like the entire world had narrowed down to just Atlas and her.
She quickly adjusted the apron around her waist, tightening it as if it would somehow anchor her to the ground.
Focus, Anya. You've done this a hundred times before.
She threw her shoulders back, plastering the best customer-service smile she could muster.
But on the inside, her thoughts were already spiralling.
"What now?" she muttered, barely audible, more to herself than anyone else. This wasn't the usual routine. This was different, and she couldn't quite put her finger on why.
Atlas was standing in front of her now. She had expected him to lean on the counter as usual, his eyes scanning the room as if bored.
But no—today, he stood there with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.
His posture was straight, his eyes fixed on her with such focus that it was almost unsettling.
It was like he was seeing right through her, into her, and for a moment, Anya felt utterly exposed.
His hands moved with a fluid grace—each motion deliberate, each sign flowing from his fingers like he was speaking a secret language only she could understand.
Anya blinked, her brain briefly short-circuiting as she processed the words. Dinner? Tonight? With him? The café went still. Even Kaia—who was usually more interested in gossiping—stopped what she was doing, staring with wide eyes.
Anya's mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water, unsure of how to respond.
Wait... What? She hadn't prepared for this.
She hadn't prepared for him—Atlas Valtieri, the silent, stoic billionaire CEO—to walk up to her and ask her out for dinner.
The same man who only ever communicated with her in signs, the one who dominated every space he entered, now standing in front of her, asking her for dinner.
"Dinner?" Her voice came out a little too high-pitched. She quickly cleared her throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Wait—did you just ask me out to dinner?"
Kaia, ever the drama queen, leaned forward, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement.
She practically vibrated in place, a grin stretched across her face that said she was enjoying every second of the scene unfolding before her.
Anya could feel Kaia's gaze boring into the back of her head, silently cheering her on like some kind of overzealous cheerleader.
Atlas, on the other hand, was unphased. His expression remained as stoic as ever, and if there was any sign of amusement, it was only in the smallest flicker of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
The man exuded this kind of magnetic stillness, a quiet power that had a way of drawing people in—whether they wanted to be drawn in or not.
He raised an eyebrow at Anya, his expression all but daring her to decline, before his hands moved, signing in smooth, deliberate motions, each sign carefully chosen, like a dance she'd seen countless times before.
"Dinner. You. Me. Tonight."
The words barely registered in her brain, her mind stumbling over the sheer audacity of the situation. She was starting to feel like she was caught in some sort of bizarre dream, where nothing made sense and every normal rule of interaction had been thrown out the window.
Anya couldn't help herself. Her jaw hung open in stunned disbelief, her usual quick-witted humour falling utterly flat. "Uh... I'm sorry, but... are you for real?"
It wasn't the best response, she knew, but it was all her mind could manage at that moment. She had expected him to throw his usual aloof glances, maybe make a quick, dismissive comment, and retreat to his corner like he always did. She had expected that—anything but this.
Atlas, of course, didn't flinch. He was a man of few words—very few, in fact—and no matter how unorthodox or out-of-place his actions were, he carried himself with a quiet confidence that said, "I don't have time for your doubts."
His expression didn't change; he didn't flinch in the slightest.
He was so serious it was almost comical.
Anya could see it now. He wasn't asking. He wasn't offering dinner. No. He was telling her. He was going to take her to dinner, whether she was ready for it or not.
She forced herself to glance around the café, as if searching for an answer somewhere in the crowded room.
But all she saw were the expectant faces of the customers watching the exchange.
The low hum of whispers filled the air, and she could feel the weight of their gaze on her, which only made her feel more self-conscious.
"I—uh, I don't..." Anya fumbled for words. What was this? Why him? Why now? She had promised herself she wouldn't let him get to her again, but here he was, throwing her completely off balance.
Anya's hands were still trembling, and she couldn't stop herself from fidgeting with the corner of her apron.
The familiar hum of the café seemed distant now, as though the walls were closing in on her.
Her mind raced, trying to process what was happening—Atlas Valtieri, the brooding, aloof CEO, was standing right in front of her, asking her out to dinner.
No, not just dinner—offering to help her.
She couldn't comprehend it.
She glanced down at her hands again, half-expecting them to stop shaking. But no. Her nerves were still running high, the adrenaline of this unexpected turn of events flooding her senses.
What is happening?
She tried to joke through her unease, desperately clutching at any semblance of normality she could muster. "You—uh, you sure you've got the right person? Because I'm the girl who can't even make a decent cup of coffee half the time."