~VICTORIA~

I was in a terrific mood.

I was also sleepy as hell. I'd finished four thousand words on the manuscript of my novel last night, and ended up going to bed at five a.m. It barely gave me a few hours of sleep, and enough time to do the laundry that had been piling up since the week before.

Four thousand words! I was rarely that productive. I'd been writing that novel for a year now, but things have been going at such a slow pace. There was always something more urgent to attend to. But something had inspired me yesterday. Maybe the fact that the interview had been an utter disappointment, and, afterwards, spending some quality best friend time with Nicolette and forcing me to come to terms with the lack of excitement in my life. Whatever it was, I hoped it was the start of a new writing streak. Before last night, I hadn't touched my manuscript in two weeks.

That should be enough doughnuts for today, I thought, putting the last one in the cake display case. It wasn't my job to cook, but making the doughnuts was a special task I liked doing. I had spent the past two hours frying them and dipping them in sugar, it now was time for me to work the tables. "I'm heading out front, Mack. You can handle things here, right?"

Ellis McClay was frying something on the stove with his back to me. He waved to say it was ok. The short-order cook didn't like to talk much. I smiled to myself and headed to the back to change my apron before going out front.

It startled me considerably, seeing Sebastian Chase. It wasn't that he looked out of place — the Foxhole was a popular spot for corporate types who worked within a five-block radius — but seeing him there felt like something out of a dream.

In a perfectly-tailored grey suit, he looked entirely like the busy businessman that he was, but not exactly. He looked out of place, but perhaps it was because I could only remember him among the gleaming steel and concrete of a place entirely different from the warm confines of the Foxhole. Seeing him sitting at one of the shop's tables like it was something he did every day was somewhat jarring.

"Do you have any more doughnuts, lady?" asked one of the teenagers at a table near where I stood, and I realized I'd been practically gawking at Chase.

"Of course, yes, sorry. How many?"

"Two," said the teenager.

"Anything else?" My mind was racing. What should I do? Come over and say hi? I was at work, and it wasn't as though he was a friend.

"Nah. Just the doughnuts."

"Be right back."

Chase wasn't in my assigned section. That meant I wouldn't have to serve him. He'd still see me, though. Should I smile? Nod?

I sighed. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't be overthinking all this.

I went to fetch the doughnuts. I picked up a coffee pot and refilled customers' cups. I took two more orders. All the time I kept surreptitiously glancing over at Chase trying to ascertain if he'd seen me.

If he had, he didn't give any indication so far that he recognized me. He sat there and drank his coffee and looked at his doughnut like it was some kind of alien artifact.

"You know, if you stared at him any harder, your eyes might pop out of their sockets," said a voice behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Oh. Hi, Rach," I said, trying not to blush. Rach was a fellow waitress working that afternoon shift. She didn't speak much, and in fact looked sullen most of the time.

"I didn't mean to stare, really," I said. "I kinda ... know him."

"Well, he doesn't seem to know you," Rach said, and left.

No he doesn't, I thought.

Fair enough. The man was a CEO of a large bank, he would have too much on his mind to remember a single interview of a woman he didn't give the job to.

Now, if only I could focus on my own work, maybe I wouldn't lose this job as well.

I couldn't help wonder, though, what brought him to the coffee shop. I'd never seen him there before. Chase was a good-looking, imposing figure of a man — I was sure to remember him. After all, I remembered every married couple who lived within a two-block radius who'd come by for a quick breakfast on their way to work. And the assistants who worked from the buildings across the street who picked up coffee and pastry for meetings in the afternoon.

Men like Chase didn't go for a coffee and doughnut at five in the afternoon on a weekday and just sit there without so much as a tablet or cellphone in hand. And even if he did, there must have been about a hundred other coffee shops near his office. Did something terrible happen and he needed some time alone? Someplace far from his usual haunts, maybe an old coffee shop with good old-fashioned homemade doughnuts?

Well, if he did, he didn't seem too eager to eat it. The doughnut sat there in front of him, getting cold.

My doughnut. Why wouldn't he eat it?

After fulfilling orders of two other tables, I glanced at Chase one more time while refilling coffee cups. Mabel was chatting with him while she served him what looked like his second refill. The doughnut still sat there, uneaten.

This was getting ridiculous.

I waited until after Mabel had left, and walked over to his table. Chase looked up but showed no sign he recognized me.

"You know, it may not look very fancy," I said, trying not to lose my nerve. "But that's a really good doughnut."

"Really." He glanced down at the doughnut, looked up at me and raised his eyebrows.

"Yes. I made it myself. It's my dad's recipe. At the end of a hard work day, it's just the thing to give you a little comfort. And it's not too sweet, so —" I stopped when Chase picked up the doughnut and took a bite.

He chewed thoughtfully for a second. He didn't look like he liked it, but he didn't look like he hated it either.

"Well?" I looked at him expectantly.

"It's a good doughnut. Thank you, Victoria."

I felt my face flush hearing him say my first name. "Uh, y-y-you're welcome," I blurted out. I was about to head back to the counter but he spoke to me again.

"Do you have any other clothes?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you have any clothes more ... decent-looking than that outfit you wore to the interview yesterday?"

"I'm not sure what you mean by ... decent—" I started to say.

"I mean, do you own any clothes that don't look as though they should be donated to Goodwill?" He looked at me from head to foot, taking in my slightly faded flower print dress and light sneakers. "Although from what you're wearing now, I'm afraid I know the answer to that."

Stunned, I could only stare at him, unable to say a word.

"Well?"

"Well." I swallowed, trying to keep my anger from making my voice shake. "No, Mr. Chase. Unfortunately, I can't afford to buy a lot of new clothes. Although I'm not quite sure why I'm telling you this, seeing as it's really none of your business what I wear."

"It is, if you're working for me."

Was he crazy? I thought. "I'm not —"

"Is something wrong here?" Mabel asked behind me. The woman smiled pleasantly at Chase, and looked questioningly at me.

"No!" I said. "I mean, we were just talking about the doughnuts," I added hastily.

Chase smiled back at Mabel. "Mabel, would you mind terribly if Victoria join me for a minute?" he asked.

"Victoria is unable to join you, Mr. Chase," I said, trying to keep my temper down. "She has to wait tables." It was hard to ignore the way his blue eyes sparkled as he smiled at the now flustered Mabel, and it only made me angrier.

"Of course, uh..." Mabel started to say.

"Call me Sebastian," he said.

"Of course, Sebastian." She turned to me. "Oh don't worry, Vic, I'm happy to take care of your tables for a couple of minutes. Rachel will help me." She winked at me before leaving me alone with Chase.

"But .." Rach never does anyone any favors, I was about to say to Mabel when Sebastian Chase interrupted me.

"Sit down please, Ms. Slade." He was no longer smiling.

I hardly knew this man, and yet he was ordering me around and expecting me to comply. But I didn't want to cause a scene, so I sat down opposite him at the table.

"May I have your notepad, please?" he said, holding his hand out.

Now more puzzled than annoyed, I took my notepad out of my apron pocket and handed it to him.

He took out a fountain pen. "When you go here," he said, writing something on the pad, "look for a Ms. Deborah Williams. She'll know what to do." He tore off the piece of paper and handed it to me.

I stared at the paper. It was the address of Barneys on Wilshire. And a floor in the building. "I don't understand."

Chase was writing on the notepad again. "It's a store, Ms. Slade," he said, not looking up. "They sell clothes."

"I know what Barneys is," I said, exasperated. "I don't understand why I'll be going there."

"I will not have you enter my home in rags. You'll need new clothes before you start on Monday. Deborah will send me the bill."

"Start ... But I thought you didn't want —" I stopped. I was about to say, I thought you didn't want me. "I thought you didn't think I was right for the job."

Chase put his pen in his pocket and handed me the notepad. "Perhaps I had been a bit hasty," he said. "My assistant will set an appointment for you at the office before Friday to submit a few documents and sign a few papers."

"What's this?" I said, reading the notes on the top of my notepad.

"That's a few of the subjects Benson is taking this semester. My assistant will email you the full curriculum, but you can start reading up on what's on that list tonight."