One Night Mystery Affair

te it was. Sitting up in bed, she let out an exasperated laugh and a muttered, "Holy shit, I'm late!" The words echoed in the quiet of her room, a stark reminder of how carelessly the previous n

onger before shrugging. "Hmm. Must be my imagination." He turned and continued toward his office, and Riley let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over her. As they entered, Wyatt casually leaned against his desk. "Go downstairs and get me my usual coffee," he instructed. Riley pulled out a notepad, prepared to jot it down. "And what exactly is your usual?" Wyatt glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "I take a triple-shot espresso macchiato with oat milk, a dash of cinnamon, precisely one and a half pumps of vanilla syrup, and exactly 140-degree steamed milk. No foam. Oh, and make sure they use the imported Colombian beans-not the regular blend." Riley blinked, stunned by the absurdly detailed order. "That's... quite the coffee." Wyatt smirked. "Problem?" She shook her head, smiling slightly. "No, sir. Just making sure I don't mess up what sounds like a very particular ritual." "Good. Don't mess it up," he said, before turning his attention to his computer. Riley turned to leave, suppressing a chuckle. A coffee order that complicated? This job was going to be interesting. After Riley left, Wyatt sat alone in his office, leaning back in his chair. He drummed his fingers against the desk, his mind drifting back to the new secretary. Riley Watson. That name. Why did it sound so familiar? There was something about her-something he couldn't quite put his finger on. The way she looked at him, the way she spoke, even the way she moved. It nagged at him, like a half-forgotten memory just out of reach. Then it hit him. That night. Wyatt's eyes narrowed slightly. Could she be the same girl? Before he could dwell on the thought, the door to his office opened, pulling him back to the present. "Mr. Wyatt," his manager, Jordan, announced as he stepped inside. "Miss Ivy has arrived and is settling in. The press will begin circulating the news soon." Wyatt nodded, pushing the thought of Riley aside. Without a word, he pulled out his sleek black debit card and placed it on the desk. "Make sure she gets everything she needs." Jordan smirked, pocketing the card. "Of course, sir." Meanwhile, Riley was at her desk, gathering her things and preparing to leave for the day when the office door swung open. In walked Miranda, the company's senior executive assistant-a woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper fashion sense. "Riley," Miranda called, crossing her arms. "I need you to pick up Mr. Wyatt from his business dinner." Riley frowned, glancing at the clock. "But it's already past seven. I'm off for the day." Miranda let out a light giggle, shaking her head. "Oh, darling. It's only seven. You're done when Mr. Wyatt says you're done." Riley bit th