Page 189 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

After ten minutes in line, we reached the counter. I half-worried the girl would swap places with one of the other baristas, but they had a system going and seemed disinclined to break it.

“What can I get for you?” she asked, staring with extreme intent at her register.

Brian hung back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him make a little go-ahead gesture.

I leaned my elbows on the counter and smiled, surreptitiously attempting to sneak a peek under her hat. “Hi, there. Remember me?”

It seemed as though a smile flickered on her lips, there and then gone, too fast to track. “I do, sir. Will you be having your usual?”

So cold and distant. I’ve really messed up.

“I will,” I confirmed, “with two shots of espresso again. My employees will thank you for it.”

Another smile appeared, stronger, though still just as fleeting. She crushed it and nodded, tapping at the buttons on her register. “Anything for Brian?”

“Let me have a cinnamon roll latte.”

She hesitated. “That’s way sweeter than the mocha, just so you know.”

Brian grinned at her and jabbed his thumb in my direction. “I’m going to be dealing with him all day. This is going to be the onlysweetthing I get.”

She started to laugh. Her eyes flashed wide and she turned her head, strangling it into a cough. “Excuse me. Okay, so cinnamon roll latte it is.”

I paid for the both of us and we went to sit down, awaiting our drinks.

“Notice anything?” Brian muttered.

“What?” I hissed back.

“She knew my name. Did you mention her to me at the party?”

I thought hard. “No. But she did know your name. Her friend wanted to meet you. Hold up. Her friend was Mary Jane. Maggie. Maggie knows who the princess is!”

“Shhh.” Brian put his finger to his lips. “Here, take this menu and pretend to look at it. Anyway, yeah, maybe Maggie does. If we can’t figure it out, I’ll ask her. But for now, we’re on our own.”

I held the menu up in front of my face, using it to disguise the peeks I took at the cute girl. More customers had come in after us, so she couldn’t possibly notice me looking at her. “You also came over and said your name the very first time we stopped here. That could be a reason.”

“Damn, you’re right.” Brian drummed his fingers on the table. “So, how certain are you now that she’s the girl?”

“Logically? About 75%.”

“And if you don’t use logic?”

“I feel it in my gut. It’s her.” I had never been so certain of something in my whole life. Though I had no concrete proof, I simply knew the princess and this underpaid barista were the same girl.

“She has to recognizeyou,” Brian mused. “She saw your face. She knows you’re Carter Bryant, and she knew you were Carter Bryant at the party. Why can’t she make this easy and confirm it for us?”

“She doesn’t want me to know who she is, for some reason.”

Brian rubbed his chin.

One of the baristas called Brian’s name. I got up and grabbed our drinks and came back to the table. I handed Brian his latte, glad to be rid of the thing. It smelled like a cinnamon candle.

Brian pulled the lid off and chuckled.

I peered in. The inside of the cup wasn’t round. A swirling partition gave the drink the appearance of an actual cinnamon roll, assisted by a scattering of cinnamon and creamy icing.

“Looks as much like a candle as it smells,” he commented.

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