She Rushed to Break Up A Fight At The Mall. A Millionaire Finished It and Fell Hard for Her
An Unexpected Invitation
She had no idea what he did, but everything about him screamed influence and power. She shook her head, shoving the card away. It didn’t matter. She’d never see him again.
Except she did. The next afternoon, just as she finished refilling the sugar dispensers at the cafe, the door swung open and there he was.
Felix Eastston.
Olive nearly dropped the metal canister. He looked completely out of place in the small, cozy cafe, his tailored coat draped over one arm, his wristwatch catching the light as he scanned the room.
His gaze landed on her. She straightened.
“Did you get lost?”
His lips twitched.
“No, I came to see you.”
Her heart did something inconvenient in her chest.
“Why?”
He stepped closer, the faint scent of cedar and something expensive clinging to him.
“I didn’t like the way we left things yesterday.”
Olive folded her arms.
“We left things fine. You saved the day, handed me a mysterious business card, and disappeared.”
Felix studied her for a moment, then glanced at the cafe’s menu scrolled on the chalkboard.
“What’s good here?”
She blinked.
“You want to order something?”
“That is what people do in cafes, isn’t it?”
Olive huffed a laugh despite herself.
“I guess. The pastries are fresh, coffee strong.”
“I’ll take both,” he said. “Whatever you recommend.”
She turned to grab a plate, trying to ignore the way her hands felt slightly unsteady. Felix Eastston was standing in her cafe requesting her recommendation.
It took effort, but she kept her voice casual as she placed a croissant on the counter.
“So, do you make a habit of tracking down retail workers after brief encounters, or am I special?”
Felix accepted the pastry but didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before.
“You’re different.”
Olive froze, searching his expression. There was something unreadable in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite place.
She cleared her throat.
“Well, that’s vague.”
He took a slow sip of the coffee she placed in front of him.
“You didn’t ask who I was.”
She frowned.
“Should I have?”
“Most people do.”
Olive leaned against the counter.
“Let me guess: you’re some big-shot CEO, real estate mogul, secret prince of a tiny country?”
Felix chuckled, a low and genuine sound.
“Nothing quite that dramatic. I own a consulting firm.”
She tilted her head.
“Consulting for what?”
“Businesses, mergers, acquisitions.”
“So you tell rich people how to get richer?”
His expression flickered with something she couldn’t name.
“Something like that.”
Olive nodded, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Well, Felix Eastston, consulting extraordinaire, your coffee’s on the house.”
His brows lifted slightly.
“Why?”
“Because you saved my store from complete destruction yesterday,” she said, shrugging. “Consider it a thank you.”
He studied her for a long moment before setting his cup down.
“Then let me return the favor.”
Olive narrowed her eyes.
“What does that mean?”
Felix reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek leather wallet. A moment later, he placed a crisp bill on the counter.
She frowned. That’s way too much for a croissant and coffee.
“It’s not for the coffee,” he said simply. “It’s for your time.”
Her stomach twisted.
“My time?”
Felix met her gaze, steady and unwavering.
“Have dinner with me.”
Olive inhaled sharply.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I think it is.”
She swallowed.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I’d like to change that.”
There was something about the way he said it—like it wasn’t a line, like he actually meant it—that sent her pulse skittering.
Olive should have said no. She should have handed back the money and walked away because men like Felix Eastston didn’t pursue women like her.
But against all logic, she heard herself say, “Okay.”
Felix’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze. Satisfaction, maybe.
“Tomorrow night,” he said, sliding the bill toward her. “I’ll send a car.”
Olive hesitated before finally accepting the money, her fingers brushing his for the briefest second.
She had no idea what she was getting herself into, but something told her that dinner with Felix Eastston was going to change everything.
The car that arrived for Olive the following evening was unlike anything she had ever stepped into before. It was sleek and black, the kind of luxury vehicle that seemed to glide rather than drive.
The driver, a man in a crisp uniform, stepped out and opened the door for her without a word.
She hesitated for a second, gripping the strap of her purse before finally slipping into the plush leather seat.
The door shut behind her with a soft click, enclosing her in silence and the faint scent of expensive cologne.
Felix wasn’t inside. A small part of her had expected him to be.
Instead, the driver pulled into motion without so much as a glance her way, expertly navigating the city streets.
Olive exhaled slowly, smoothing her dress over her knees. She had spent far too long debating what to wear, knowing that no matter what, she’d feel out of place in whatever world Felix belonged to.
Eventually, she had settled on a simple black dress: classic, understated, safe.
By the time the car pulled up in front of an elegant restaurant with towering glass windows and golden-lit chandeliers visible from the street, her hands were clammy.
The driver stepped out and opened her door once more.
“Mr. Eastston is waiting inside.”
Olive swallowed hard and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The entrance to the restaurant was grand without being ostentatious, the kind of place where the wealthy gathered in hushed, effortless sophistication.
And then there was her. She took a steadying breath and walked inside.
Felix was already seated at a table near the back, dressed in another tailored suit that fit him like it had been designed specifically for him.
When he saw her, he stood, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that sent a strange heat up Olive’s spine.
“You came,” he said, his voice smooth as if he hadn’t been entirely sure she would.
“I said I would,” she replied, resisting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny.
He pulled out a chair for her and she sat, her fingers tightening around the edge of the linen napkin in her lap.
A waiter appeared almost instantly, pouring sparkling water into their glasses before disappearing again.
Felix leaned back, studying her.
“You look lovely.”
Olive huffed a quiet laugh.
“You sound surprised.”
His lips twitched.
“Not surprised. Just pleased.”
Her pulse did an inconvenient little flutter at that. She reached for her glass, taking a sip before speaking.
“So, is this something you do often? Invite strangers to dinner?”
Felix tilted his head slightly.
“I wouldn’t call you a stranger.”
She raised a brow.
“We’ve spoken twice.”
“And yet,” he said, “you intrigue me.”
Olive wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She glanced down at the menu, her fingers tracing the embossed lettering as she tried to collect her thoughts.
When the waiter returned, Felix ordered without hesitation, while Olive took an extra beat to settle on something that didn’t look impossible to pronounce.
Once they were alone again, she folded her hands together.
“Why me?”
Felix’s gaze didn’t waver.
“What do you mean?”
“You could have dinner with anyone,” she said. “Women who actually belong in places like this.”
Something flickered in his expression, something unreadable.
“And yet, I wanted to have dinner with you.”
Olive exhaled, leaning back slightly in her seat.
“I don’t get it. You don’t know anything about me.”
Felix studied her for a moment before speaking.
“I know that you didn’t ask for anything when I gave you my card. I know that when I walked into your cafe, you didn’t treat me differently because of who I am. And I know that you’re not easily intimidated.”
Olive blinked.
“That’s a lot to assume from two conversations.”
His lips curved slightly.
“I pay attention.”
She toyed with the edge of her napkin.
“I still think this is a mistake.”
Felix’s gaze didn’t waver.
“And yet you’re here.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the waiter returned with their first course, placing delicate plates of food in front of them.
Olive picked up her fork, trying not to let her nerves show. Felix, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, eating with the kind of effortless grace that told her he had done this many times.
“Where did you grow up?” he asked, breaking the silence.
She glanced up, caught off guard by the question.
“Not here. Small town, couple hours outside the city.”
He nodded, as if filing the information away.
“And what brought you here?”
Olive hesitated, debating how much to say.
“Needed a change. Thought the city would be exciting.”
“Has it been?”
She let out a quiet laugh.
“Not exactly. But it keeps me on my toes.”
Felix studied her for a moment before taking a sip of his drink.
“And your family?”
Olive’s fingers tightened around her fork.
“Just me.”
Something in his expression shifted, but he didn’t press. Instead, he tapped his fingers against the edge of the table.
“You’re used to doing things on your own.”
She lifted a shoulder.
“Some people don’t get another option.”
Felix was quiet for a beat before speaking.
“I understand that.”
There was something in his voice, something almost personal. Olive studied him, but before she could ask, he smoothly changed the subject.
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of conversation that was surprisingly easy. Despite her earlier nerves, Olive found herself forgetting, at least for a little while, that she didn’t belong in a place like this.
Felix had a way of pulling her into discussions that made her forget to be self-conscious. By the time they stepped outside, the air had turned crisp, the city lights casting a warm glow over the street.
Felix turned to her.
“Let me take you home.”
Olive hesitated then nodded.
The sleek car from earlier was waiting at the curb, the driver already holding the door open. Felix gestured for her to go first, sliding in beside her once she was seated.
The ride was quiet but not uncomfortably so. When they finally pulled up in front of her apartment building, Felix turned to her.
“Olive.”
She looked at him. His gaze held hers, steady and unreadable.
“This wasn’t a one-time thing.”
She exhaled slowly.
“I don’t think I was expecting it to be.”
A flicker of something crossed his features, something that looked suspiciously like satisfaction.
“Good,” he said.
And then, before she could second-guess everything, he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against her hand. It was a simple touch, but enough to send a spark up her arm. Her breath caught.
Felix’s voice was quieter when he spoke again.
“Good night, Olive.”
She swallowed hard.
“Good night, Felix.”
