She Visits a Friend’s Office, Not Realizing the Man She Bumps Into Is a Millionaire Who’ll Love Her

An Expensive Collision

Marin Callaway didn’t expect to knock over a six-foot-tall man and a tray of oat milk lattes on a random Tuesday morning. But here she was, blinking up at a stranger whose suit probably cost more than her monthly rent.

“Oh my god,” she gasped.

She scrambled to her feet, slipping once on the wet tile before he caught her elbow.

“You okay?”

His voice was deep and calm. He didn’t sound mad. That made it worse.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she blurted out, brushing latte foam off her jacket sleeve. “I’m so sorry. I’m just here to visit my friend. She works on the 22nd floor. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine.”

His mouth twitched, almost like he was fighting a laugh.

“You sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m well. Maybe my dignity,” she muttered, cheeks burning.

He looked down at his drenched suit, then back at her.

“It’s just coffee. It happens.”

She glanced around the sleek marble lobby of the building. The security guards were watching. Her friend hadn’t come down yet. And this guy, he wasn’t just anyone. There was a quiet authority in the way he stood, even soaked in espresso.

His jacket was tailored. His shoes were spotless—well, until two seconds ago.

“I’ll pay for your dry cleaning,” she offered, reaching into her tote bag for her wallet.

“No need.”

He held up a hand.

“Seriously, you sure? Because I feel awful. Like truly awful.”

“I promise it’s fine.”

He looked her over—not in a creepy way, but like he was genuinely curious.

“Who are you here to see?”

“Danica. Danica Meyers. She works in marketing for Westbridge and Co.”

His eyes flicked toward the elevators, then back to her.

“She’s on the 22nd. Yeah, I know her.”

Of course he did. Everyone here probably knew everyone else. She felt like a fish in a very expensive aquarium.

“I’m Marin, by the way. Marin Callaway.”

He reached out, shaking her hand with a firm grip.

“Foster O’Connell.”

“Foster.”

She blinked.

“That’s a strong name.”

He laughed. And this time, it wasn’t restrained. It was real and warm.

“Thanks, I think.”

Before she could say more, the elevator dinged and Danica came rushing out in heels and a blazer that screamed corporate boss.

“Marin, you made it!” her friend called, hugging her. Then she glanced at Foster. “Oh no, did she run into you?”

Foster nodded. “Literally.”

“I swear this girl could trip over air,” Danica muttered, sheepish.

Marin elbowed her. “Thanks for the backup.”

Foster’s eyes lingered a beat longer than necessary.

“Well, I’ve got another meeting. Danica, good to see you. Marin, take care of that elbow.”

And then he turned and walked straight toward the private elevator at the back—the one with the gold trim and no buttons. Marin stared.

“Wait, is he like important?”

Danica grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the elevators.

“Oh, Marin, that man is Foster O’Connell. The Foster O’Connell. He owns this building. He’s the CEO of Weston Holdings.”

Marin nearly tripped again.

“He owns the building and half the companies in it? You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. He’s worth like a hundred million at least. And you just baptized him in oat milk.”

Marin groaned. “I want to disappear into the floor.”

Danica snorted. “You’re lucky he’s weirdly nice. Some days he barely speaks to people. Other days, well, you just never know with him.”