Page 4 of His Rise


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Her coffee is divine. It’s a world-beater. I know the coffee game inside out, and there’s nothing to compare.

But what I want is even more precious. I want her. I imagine the weight of her creamy breasts, the warmth and scent of her golden skin, her silky smooth throat, the grip of her soft, curvy thighs. I want to know the taste of her hot juices. I need to make her moan and sigh, and feel her clench and vibrate.

And I know I have to get my attention away from all that.

I am never going to give myself up and fall into the arms of another woman. However much I ache to slide into the spell of her warm breath and feel her rouse as I caress her and smell her hair, I will not give in.

Henry sends the other barista away and locks up the coffee bar. He doesn’t want to risk any of our conversation being overheard.

We sit in his tiny office. I suppose he doesn’t even want to risk us being seen.

At this point, I don’t care.

“Henry, your puny little coffee empire was never going to compete with mine. You’re going to have to give in someday. I think we both know that. You called me and asked me to come here because you want to negotiate. I know. But I’m not interested now.”

Henry’s smile surprises me. “No. You’ve got this all ass up. If you think about it, you’ll realize that my little chain of coffee bars is going to chase your corner cafes all the way back to a cave in Oregon.” He sits back. “I called to offer you a five percent share of the franchise business I’m about to start up.”

His smile widens. “If you sign today and pay cash, I’ll let you practically steal the shares for ten million dollars.”

Now he’s making me angry.

“Are you mad, Henry? Your whole chain isn’t worth five million dollars.”

“Today it’s not, no.” He reclines and presses his fingers together, pointing them up. “But I think you know what’s coming. Pretty soon I’ll be able to have all your little shops for breakfast.”

“If you think you’re smart to start a coffee war with me, Henry, then you’re even more of an idiot than I thought you were.”

On the ride back to Hot Start headquarters, I have my driver stop by all five of the other top coffee chains in the city. It’s an easy drive as their headquarters or flagship stores are all on Magazine Street or in the Garden District. All apart from Mountain High Brew in the Quarter.

I let all the owners or CEOs know about the contest I’ve just dreamed up. I’m setting an investment competition. Five million dollars of immediate inward investment for the chain that sends a barista with the best cup of espresso to my boardroom tomorrow at three p.m.

Like Henry, they are all wary of a big investment from me. They know it will come at a heavy price. Control. Ownership.

Also like Henry, three of the chains are small enough that five million bucks would be way more than half of their businesses’ total market value.

They can’t easily afford to win the competition. But none of them can afford to lose, either. Not if that much of a boost in business will go straight in to one of their competitors.

I fully expect them all to call each other later today. Their only defense is to not play. So, I’m sure the CEOs will all promise each other not to send a barista tomorrow.

And I’m betting not one of them can resist. They all will send the best espresso they can make.

I wonder who Henry will send.

Even though the thought swells my chest and fattens my cock so much it makes me uncomfortable — I have to shift my position several times — I hope it’s not her.

Cyntia.

Why is that name stuck in my head, like an earworm, a song from a long-forgotten movie?

Chapter Three

Cyntia

Sook, my neighbor’s sleek little black cat with a white eye-patch, is waiting by my door. I let her in and feed her some kitty treats.

She purrs as I tell her about my day, then I flop mindlessly in front of Netflix. I got the job, so I should be pleased. And I stood up to Mr. Dimples Joe and stopped him from man-elbowing me out of his way. I still can’t believe he was applying for a job as a barista. But I beat his arrogant ass out of there.

Still, I feel flat. Deflated. Partly because I’ve won myself a daily six-thirty start and long days of wearing an exhausting fixed smile. But, hey, my tuition fees aren’t going to pay themselves.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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