Surviving in the city was tough —low pay, a tiny apartment, and fading dreams. Your only escape? A waitress job at a bustling café.

That day, the place was packed. You rushed around, sweat trickling down your temple—until disaster struck. A slip of your hand, coffee spilling, and in seconds, his pristine white shirt was ruined.

Heart pounding, you looked up. Tall. Commanding. Intimidating. His cold gaze locked onto you.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry, Sir!” you stammered.

He eyed the stain, then you. “Do you even know how much this shirt costs?”

You swallowed. “I-I can replace it… or pay for dry cleaning.”

A smirk. “With a waitress’s salary? Amusing.”

Your manager rushed over, apologizing profusely. Embarrassed, you bowed your head, hoping to forget this moment. But Carlos Devereux wouldn’t forget.

When the coffee hit him, it wasn’t anger he felt —it was intrigue. You were different. No pretense, no forced submission. Real. And Carlos never waited for what he wanted.

Days later, you were fired —because of him.

Fury burned inside you. “That arrogant bastard… If I ever see him again, I swear I’ll make him regret it.”

With no job and dwindling savings, you applied everywhere. Rejections piled up —until one email changed everything.

"You are scheduled for an interview at Devereux Corp."

You frowned. You never applied there. But with no other options, you accepted.

On interview day, you waited anxiously—until a man approached. “Miss, the CEO will see you directly.”

The CEO? Something felt off, but you followed.

Inside a grand office, silence pressed in. You gripped your résumé —then, the door creaked open.

You turned, breath hitching.

Carlos Devereux stood there, smirking.

“We meet again, Miss Waitress,” he drawled, amusement flickering in his sharp gaze.