TANGLED IN BLACKWOOD

Lexi Thompson wanted to scream. She stood outside Grayson Roast, the trendy uptown café where her cousin worked, clutching an empty to-go tray like it had personally offended her. She had just come from a client's engagement party where the DJ arrived drunk, the florist mixed up lavender with lilac (which apparently was a massive deal), and the groom's mother accused her of ruining her son's life. The cherry on top? A text from her landlord: "Rent is overdue again. I'm not running a charity, Lexi." She sighed, running a hand through her wild curls. Coffee. That was the only thing that could save her right now. Triple shot, if possible. Maybe with whipped cream, if the universe was feeling merciful for once. Inside, the café buzzed with soft jazz, pressed suits, and the scent of overpriced pastries. Her cousin Sasha winked when she saw her. "Rough day?" "I think I aged five years in three hours," Lexi muttered, dragging herself to the counter. "If one more bride throws a tantrum because the roses aren't 'blush champagne' enough, I'll scream." Sasha laughed and started prepping her order. "One triple vanilla latte coming right up." Lexi leaned on the counter and exhaled. This wasn't what she imagined when she became an event planner. Back then, she pictured glamorous venues, confident clients, glowing testimonials. Now it felt more like babysitting emotionally unstable adults with impossible Pinterest boards and nonexistent budgets. Her bank account balance was dangerously close to negative. She had applied to every established firm in the city. No one had replied. Maybe she wasn't polished enough. Or maybe they just didn't take risks on freelancers who didn't wear designer heels or carry sleek portfolios. She hated that even talent needed packaging. Sasha handed her the coffee. "You need to get out of this mess. You're too good to be hustling like this forever." Lexi smiled faintly. "Tell that to my landlord." With a grateful nod, she turned to leave. Her phone rang just as she stepped outside. "Ms. Thompson?" came the gravelly voice of her landlord. "You promised last Friday." "I know, Mr. Redman," she said quickly, backing through the door. "Things got a little crazy, but I'm working on something more stable. I just need a little time—" She turned—and slammed directly into someone. Her coffee exploded. The cup launched into the air, splashing across a crisp, charcoal-gray suit. The drink splattered down his sleeve and dripped onto a gleaming wristwatch. Lexi staggered back, wide-eyed, heart thudding. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry—" The man looked down at his soaked suit, then at her. His eyes, a sharp, piercing gray, were unreadable. Too calm. Too controlled. "You should watch where you're going," he said, voice cool and even, as he retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the mess. Lexi blinked, thrown by his tone. There wasn't anger—just irritation, like she was a fly that had landed on his perfectly organized desk. "Excuse me?" "You just spilled scalding coffee on a limited edition Hublot." She frowned. "I don't even know what that is." He raised an eyebrow. "It's a wristwatch. One worth more than your rent, I imagine." Lexi's jaw dropped. Did this man really just insult her entire financial existence? "Did you just—" "I expect you to replace it." Her shock curled into disbelief, then slowly caught fire into irritation. "You've got to be kidding me." "I don't joke," he replied smoothly, adjusting his cuff like her coffee hadn't just drenched half his arm. "Especially not about five-figure timepieces." Lexi stared at him. What kind of person says that with a straight face? His suit probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. And he wanted her to replace a watch she couldn't even pronounce? She crossed her arms. "Look, I wasn't exactly trying to spill coffee on you. You came out of nowhere." "I was walking," he said coldly. "You were pacing backward while on a call. That's not exactly ideal pedestrian behavior." She scoffed. "Oh, so now you're traffic control?" "I'm merely pointing out cause and effect." The nerve. The arrogance practically radiated off him. And yet… there was something about his voice. Deep, quiet, laced with command. Like he was used to being obeyed. Not challenged. Her heart was still racing, but now it was less from shock and more from pure indignation. "I don't have five thousand dollars lying around to buy you a new designer whatever," she said flatly. "So unless you plan to invoice me for your ego too, we're done here." He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing, studying her like a puzzle. His jaw ticked, but he didn't argue. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a sleek business card, and handed it to her. "Should you change your mind," he said, tone unreadable. "Or want to apologize properly." Lexi took the card, mostly out of reflex. There was no company logo on it. Just a name, printed in embossed black ink. She barely glanced at it before shoving it into her tote. He didn't wait for a reply. With a final look, he turned and walked toward a sleek black car idling by the curb. Lexi stood frozen, heart still pounding. What just happened? She looked down at the mess on the sidewalk, at her empty cup, and then at the crowd who had witnessed the whole thing. Her face flushed. Great. She'd just made a scene in public, insulted a man in a five-thousand-dollar suit, and possibly ruined a very expensive watch. All before noon. With a groan, she stuffed the card deeper into her bag and marched off. Whoever that arrogant stranger was, she had no intention of ever seeing him again. But something inside her whispered that she probably would. Because with her luck? Coffee disasters weren't the worst collisions fate could throw at her. As she walked down the block, Lexi muttered under her breath, "Only me. Of course this would happen to me." Her heels clicked angrily on the sidewalk. She didn't look back once.