The Routine

Sienna's POV

"So, did you find a new fabric supplier or a new boyfriend? Because you’ve been staring at that empty paper coffee cup for the last twenty minutes like it holds the secrets to the universe."

I snapped out of my daze, blinking at Chloe, who was leaning over my drafting table with an amused smirk. We were in the middle of my studio, surrounded by half-dressed mannequins and rolls of premium silk, but my mind was completely stuck on a tiny, brick-walled café three blocks away.

"It’s just a really good cup of coffee," I lied, tossing the cup into the recycling bin. "And the barista didn't treat me like 'Sienna Cross, the rising designer.' He just... talked to me."

"Uh-huh. Sure," Chloe rolled her eyes, her gold hoop earrings jingling. "Look, the manufacturer agreed to overnight the silk-satin. We're back on track. But if you need another 'miracle cup' to keep you from biting my head off tomorrow, I won't stop you from going back."

I didn't just go back the next day. I went back the day after that. And the day after that.

Within two weeks, it became a ritual. Every morning at precisely 8:15 AM, I’d walk through the doors of *The Daily Grind*. The stress of my upcoming fashion showcase would instantly melt away the second the warmth of the café hit my face. And every single time, without fail, he’d be there.

"Morning, Sienna," Leo would say, always leaning over the counter with that easy, devastatingly handsome smile. "The usual?"

"Double extra shot, vanilla bean," I’d reply, feeling a ridiculous flutter in my chest.

We started talking more. Little things at first—his favorite indie bands, my absolute hatred for polyester, the crazy customers he dealt with. For fifteen minutes every morning, I wasn't a stressed-out business owner living in a hyper-competitive bubble. I was just a girl flirting with a very cute barista.

And god, I was definitely flirting.

Leo's POV

"Dude, you're doing the face again," Jax muttered, elbowing me in the ribs as he loaded the dishwasher.

"What face?" I asked, keeping my eyes locked on the front door of the café.

"The 'I'm a lovesick puppy waiting for his owner to come home' face. It's 8:12 AM. Miss High-Fashion won't be here for another three minutes. Pace yourself, Vance."

I ignored him, but my heart gave a heavy thump anyway. He wasn't wrong. For the past two weeks, my entire day revolved around a fifteen-minute window in the morning.

Sienna was like a breath of fresh air, even if she always walked in looking like a gorgeous, walking whirlwind of high stakes and expensive tailoring. But the more she came in, the more the sharp, intimidating exterior faded. I learned that she snorts a little when she laughs really hard. I learned that she works eighteen-hour days and sometimes forgets to eat lunch.

At 8:15 AM sharp, the bell chimed.

She walked in wearing a stunning, tailored emerald green blazer and dark trousers. Her dark hair was perfectly in place, but I noticed the subtle, tired shadows under her hazel eyes.

"You look like you're about to conquer a small country today," I teased as she reached the counter.

"Worse. A final meeting with my investors," she sighed, leaning her chin on her hand, looking up at me through her lashes. "Tell me you have a miracle for me today, Leo."

"For you? Always." I slid her cup across the counter. This time, instead of a heart in the foam, I had spent an extra two minutes meticulously etching the silhouette of a tiny dress.

Sienna looked down at the latte art, and her entire face lit up. A breathless, genuine laugh escaped her lips. "Did you design this for me?"

"Well, I hear you're a big deal in the design world," I said, leaning in a little closer, my voice dropping slightly. "Figured I should try to impress my favorite customer."

Her hazel eyes locked onto mine, warm and intense, and for a second, the busy café around us completely disappeared.

"Consider me thoroughly impressed, Leo Vance," she murmured. She took a slow sip, keeping her eyes on me, before checking her watch with a quiet groan. "I have to run. But... I'm celebrating if this meeting goes well. Are you working tonight?"

My heart practically did a backflip. "I get off at six."

"Good," she smiled, backing toward the door. "Meet me outside at six-fifteen. Don't be late."

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