The Billionaire's, Contract Bride

Seraphina's Point Of View

My hands tremble as I pour the coffee. It is well after midnight at Tony's Diner, and I am alone on duty. The grease and stale coffee dominate the atmosphere like a damp blanket.

"Come on, Sera," I say aloud. "Three hours till dawn."

My feet ache so terribly that I'm about to cry. I sat at the office until eleven tonight, and then here I came straight away. Tomorrow I'm grocery delivering all day long. Three jobs to make enough for Mom's medicine, and it's still not enough.

The doorbell rings. I glance up and stiffen. A man enters dressed in a suit worth more than I've earned in six months. His dark hair is immaculately styled, even for the rain outside. His gray eyes sweep the diner as if he's never seen anything like it.

Rich people don't go to Tony's Diner. Not in your life. Least of all at midnight.

"Sit wherever you'd like," I shout, grabbing the coffee pot. I sound exhausted even to myself. "Menu's on the table."

He's sitting at a window booth. I come over on shaking legs. This guy appears to be some kind of big shot, and I'm not going to mess up. Tony will get me fired if I get on the wrong side of a customer who could actually leave a decent tip.

"What can I get you?" I say, pulling out my little notebook.

He peers up at me. His storm cloud-tinted eyes twist my stomach. "Just coffee. Black."

"Coming right up."

I start to head back towards the coffee pot. That is when things unravel. My sleep-deprived legs get knotted. I stumble forward. The coffee pot flails out of my hands like a bird in flight.

Hot coffee pours everywhere. All over the man's crisp white shirt. All over his designer jacket coat. All over the table.

"Oh no!" I cry. "Oh no, oh no, oh no!"

He leaps up, coffee dripping from his coat. I grab napkins and begin frantically trying to blot his shirt. My hands are shaking so badly the napkins drop on the floor.

"Oh no!" My eyes begin to well up with tears. "Don't tell Tony about this. I really need this job. My mom is ill and I can't afford to lose my job."

The man doesn't move much at all. He doesn't shout at me as I thought he would. He just stares at me through those gray eyes in amazement.

"It's alright," he says quietly. His voice is deep and soothing. "It's just a shirt."

"No, it's not a shirt!" I'm sobbing more and more. "That suit is worth more than money I'll make my entire life. I'll pay for it. I swear I'll pay for it."

He pulls out his coat pocket. I think he's going to call the police or perhaps Tony. But all he does is produce a white handkerchief and give it to me.

"Stop crying," he tells me, but not