chapter 13

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Three days had passed since I had stormed into the mansion, leaving behind the dizzying whirlwind of the gala and Tristan’s infuriating absence. During that time, I had thrown myself into a series of distractions, determined to erase the sting of rejection from my mind.

The first day, I indulged in a spa retreat, basking in luxury as I let the soothing hands of the masseuse work out the tension in my shoulders. I pampered myself with aromatic oils and calming facials was that made me feel like royalty, if only for a moment.

I flipped through glossy magazines while sipping herbal tea, trying to ignore the nagging thoughts of Tristan and the chaos that had ensued since that night.

The next day, I splurged on a personal chef, enjoying a lavish meal prepared just for me in the mansion’s expansive kitchen. The scent of truffle oil filled the air as I savored each bite, indulging in flavors that made me forget the harsh realities of my life. "This is what I deserve,"I told myself, letting the exquisite taste of lobster bisque and filet mignon distract me from the questions swirling in my mind about the mysterious man who had so easily slipped through my fingers.

As the days passed, I busied myself with shopping for stylish outfits that echoed the glamour I had felt at the gala. I wanted to reclaim that sense of confidence, to take a break from work....and....to embrace the persona of Kayla Smith fully. Each purchase felt like a small victory, a step toward building the life I envisioned for myself.

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The door to du'Lumière Cafe swung open with a soft chime, and I stepped inside, my pulse quickening.

This had become my little stakeout spot a cozy nook where I could sip coffee and keep an eye on my surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tristan Agress.

It had been days since the gala, and my mind well prepared for another encounter, I needed answers.

The cafe was filled with the rich aroma of coffee, which I inhaled deeply, letting the familiar scent calm my frayed nerves. I made my way to the counter, my heart beating a little faster, but there was no sign of him.

I was here to work and research the man I was supposed to con. Yet, here I was thinking of him.

As I approached the barista, a young man with bright blue eyes and an easy smile, he looked up and lit up as if he’d just seen a celebrity. “Kayla! I’ve been waiting for you!”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Uh, how do you know my name?”

His excitement dimmed a little, and he leaned in closer, as if sharing a secret. “Mr. Agress told me to watch out for you. He paid for your coffee for the week.” His voice was low, but the enthusiasm was palpable.

A rush of warmth flooded my cheeks, but I tried to play it cool. “Really? That’s…..generous of him.” My mind raced--why was he doing this? Was it a power play? A way to remind me he was watching ? I could feel the weight of his name hanging in the air, an electric tension sparking between us.

“Yeah, he said to make sure you’re taken care of.” The barista grinned as he poured the coffee, his hands almost shaking with excitement. “So, what’s it gonna be today? Your usual?”

I nodded, my heart still pounding as I accepted the steaming cup from him. “Thanks,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant despite the inner turmoil.

As I moved away, I caught his eye again. “Why does he care?” I asked, trying to sound half-serious, half-joking. “Am I supposed to be some kind of trophy?”

The barista chuckled nervously, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “No idea, but you’ve definitely made an impression. Just… don’t keep him waiting too long.”

I laughed lightly, the tension in the air easing slightly, but my thoughts turned back to Tristan as I walked to a corner table. I was flattered, I really was, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all part of a game I didn’t fully understand. I took a sip of the coffee, letting the rich flavor swirl on my tongue, and tried to quell the rising questions.

Reaching for the newspaper sitting in a basket on the counter, I settled into my seat, ready to distract myself from my swirling thoughts. As I unfolded the paper, the headline caught my eye:

**“Mystery Woman Sparks Speculation: Who is Kayla Smith?”** My heart raced again--there was my name...well...my fake name but still..., the bold letters declaring me the newest sensation on the scene.

I scanned the article, which was overflowing with gossip about my connection to Tristan. It painted a picture of intrigue, suggesting that I was a fresh face in the social elite, and suddenly everyone was watching. The article mentioned how I had captivated the crowd at the gala, and it seemed the world wanted to know more about the mysterious woman seen with one of New York’s most eligible bachelors.

A grin spread across my face, fueled by the thrill of it all. My plan was starting to bear fruit. I could almost hear the gears turning in my head, mapping out the next steps. If this was what it took to rise above my circumstances, then I’d play the part of the enigma with flair.

But before I left, I had one last thought. I turned back to the barista, who was busy wiping down the counter. I reached into my purse, pulling out three crisp hundred-dollar bills and approached him.

“Hey,” I said, leaning slightly on the counter. “Here. Tell Mr. Agress I’m covering his coffee for the week too.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Seriously? You don’t have to do that!”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Just tell him I said thanks for the coffee, and to keep an eye out for me.” I turned on my heel and walked toward the door, the bell chiming softly behind me as I stepped into the street, a sense of satisfaction swelling within me.

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but smile. I was making waves, and Tristan Agress had unwittingly become part of my strategy. I was ready to embrace whatever came next--after all, this was just the beginning.

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