I knew you were trouble when I saw you

Sabrina

The sweet, heavy aroma of baked cake filled the air, making my stomach churn with hunger, despite the exhaustion pressing on my shoulders. I stood by the prep counter, gloved hands carefully sliding the cake from the oven, trying to ignore the pounding in my temples.

Beside me, Ana moved with easy rhythm, her dark hair twisted into a messy bun, a faint sheen of sweat catching the light as she arranged fresh rolls on a tray.

She glanced sideways, her voice gentle but teasing. “You’ve been swallowed by tests lately. I almost forgot what you looked like under this kitchen light.”

I let out a soft laugh, wiping my brow with the towel hanging around my neck. “I know. It’s been crazy.”

The first vibration came just as I was removing my gloves.

Unknown Number: Angel.

My heart stopped.

Did Smith give out my number again?

Unknown Number: It’s Adrian.

My heart skipped.

Then slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

No. Nope. No way.

Why the hell was Adrian Marks texting me?

Did he figure it out?

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

The phone kept buzzing.

Ana glanced over casually. “You gonna answer that?”

Startled, I locked the phone and shoved it into my apron pocket. My breathing ragged.

“Sab?”

Ana’s voice snapped me out of my frozen state. Eyes narrowing. “You good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I forced a laugh that sounded all wrong. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking about finals.”

Ana cocked her head. “You? Freaking over finals? That's new. You’re the queen of last-minute essays.”

“Guess I’m tired,” I muttered, scrubbing the counter like it had personally offended me.

Ana tilted her head, but before she could press further, the café bell chimed.

---

Chris walked in, tall and effortlessly charming, with his usual boyish grin.

“Hey, babe,” Ana said, her face lighting up instantly.

Chris grinned, leaning over the counter to kiss her. His presence was warm, uncomplicated, and so opposite of Adrian that it made my heart ache.

“Thought I’d pick you up. Practice ended early.”

Chris gave me his usual friendly smile. “Hey, Sab. You okay? You look a little…tensed.”

“Late-night studying,” I lied. “You know how it is.”

He chuckled. “You need to catch a break sometime.” He said. “Ana says you are always working.”

“Someone has to keep the café afloat,” I teased.

And then my phone buzzed again.

Ana frowned, “Your phone’s been lighting up like a Christmas tree. It won’t stop buzzing.”

Unlocking the screen, my breath caught.

One missed call from Smith.

Eight missed calls from…

Adrian Marks.

“I’ll be right back,” I excused myself, mumbling something about the storeroom, and slipped away.

My thumb hovered over the screen, torn between blocking him and answering.

What did he want now? Another night?

Before I could overthink it, I hit accept.

“H-hello?” I whispered, voice cracking like I was thirteen again.

“Angel,” came his voice, sharp, clipped, and unmistakably annoyed. “You finally decided to pick up.”

Shit. He still thinks I'm Angel.

I wasn’t caught in the lie. I exhaled, partially relieved.

“Is this a bad time?” He asked calmly.

I swallowed. “A bad time? For... for what?”

Then came the words that nearly made me trip over my own feet.

“We need to talk. in person.” He said flatly.

I blinked. Then blinked again. Then let out a confused laugh. “I—I’m sorry, what?!”

“We need to talk,” He repeated with the same terrifying calmness, like he was ordering lunch.

My grip tightened on the phone. My stomach twisted. “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?! You got what you paid for. There’s nothing to talk about!.”

His tone shifted, dark and curious: “You think I paid for you? You think that’s all I want?”

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “Isn’t it?”

“No.” The word was final, chilling. “I don’t like being ignored, Angel. If you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you.”

“Yes. No. Wait—no! I mean yes.” I hissed, panic curling in my chest. “Look, Don’t call me again!”

I hung up so fast it felt like swatting a fly.

I stared down at my phone, eyes wide, lungs burning. Then a small laugh escaped me, helpless, disbelieving.

“Oh my god,”

Then with trembling fingers, I blocked him.

I shoved the phone back into my apron and took a deep breath, plastering on a fake smile as I returned.

Ana was still looking at me like she knew I was hiding something.

—

The walk home felt longer than usual. My nerves were shot, mind spinning . Every car that passed by made me flinch.

When I turned onto my street, I stopped.

A sleek black car, one of those luxury models you only see in magazines was near the entrance to my building.

Kids paused their game of soccer just to gawk at the tinted windows.

Two older women stood by the curb, gawking.

“Must be someone important,” one of them whispered. “Who drives a car like that here?”

I kept my head down and walked past. Rich people drove through the wrong parts of the city all the time, lost or showing off.

But when I climbed the steps to my building, digging for my keys, I froze.

Someone was leaning against my door.

Not just someone.

Adrian Marks.

He was in a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark jeans, but he still radiated power.

“Angel,” he said, voice smooth and controlled, but his eyes, those dark unwavering eyes, locked on me like I’d been caught doing something wrong.

My pulse hammered. “How…What are you doing here?”

“You owe me a conversation.”

“I told you—”

“You can say whatever you want,” he cut in, his voice low and unshakable, “but not out here.” His eyes flicked toward the cracked doors along the hallway, where neighbors were pretending not to eavesdrop. “Invite me in, or I’ll make a scene.”

“I don’t want you here,” I whispered, gripping the strap of my bag like it was armor.

“Then tell me your real name.” His lips curved, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t like playing games, Angel.”

He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Yes,” I said, before I could stop myself.

He stepped closer, his scent, clean, expensive, undeniably him, wrapping around me.

“You think you can ignore me?” he murmured. “After that night?”

I exhaled sharply, casting a quick glance around to ensure no one was still eavesdropping.

My throat went dry. “That night meant nothing.”

His jaw tightened. “You sold your virginity and you didn’t even tell me.”

Heat flared in my face, shame mixing with anger. “It's none of your business!”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. He sighed, his expression darkening with a mix of frustration and resignation.

He leaned in, his voice like steel. “I don’t like repeating myself. Let me in, Sabrina.”

The sound of my real name on his lips nearly stopped my heart.