Chapter 2 - Mission: Don't Cross the Line

Saturday, February 15, 2025

It's morning, and I'm dragged out of my sleep by an annoyingly familiar voice.

"Ariel, wake up!" my sister Ariana says.

"What is it, Ariana...?" I mumble, shoving my head under the pillow, completely defeated by the world.

"I only didn't talk to you yesterday because you were completely drunk!" she says, yanking my pillow away with murderous force.

"It's Saturday! My day off! Let me sleep, for God's sake!" I complain, wrapping myself in the sheets like a caterpillar in denial.

"Then explain this." She shoves her phone right in my face.

The moment I look at the screen... I freeze.

"Huh...?" I stare at it with wide eyes.

It's a picture of me and my boss. But... wait a second...

IS HE KISSING THE TOP OF MY HEAD?!

"Are you dating your boss now?" Ariana asks, crossing her arms. "When I saw this yesterday, I thought I was hallucinating. I had to take a picture, right? For the family embarrassment archives."

"Oh my God... What did I do?!" I ask, turning pale. "I don't remember anything!"

"All I heard was you saying, 'Kiss my head!'" she says mockingly. "You sounded like a spoiled little kid begging for a lollipop. It was pathetic."

"I'm quitting drinking. I swear. I mean it this time." I sit up in bed like a remorseful zombie.

"Your boss looked so uncomfortable... He only did what you asked because you wouldn't stop insisting. You looked like you were about to cry if he didn't do it!" Ariana says, laughing as if she's watching a live comedy show.

"I'm screwed... completely screwed." I bury my face in my hands, wishing I could evaporate off the face of the Earth.

"Ariel, Ariana! Breakfast is ready!" my mother calls from the kitchen.

"Come on. You can think about your stupid decisions later," Ariana says, leaving my room with that smug older-sister attitude of someone who knows everything.

I take a deep breath and drag myself downstairs like I'm heading to the gallows.

Sitting at the table with my family, I try to eat breakfast, but everything tastes like despair. The bread? Bitter. The coffee? A liquid reminder of what I've done.

While everyone chats like it's a perfectly normal morning, all I can think about is the monumental mistake I made last night.

How am I supposed to face Mr. Daniel on Monday? What am I even going to say? Where's my dignity? Will he look at me and remember kissing the top of my head? Or worse... will he fire me with a resignation letter scented with humiliation?

Every sip of coffee is psychological torture. And the worst part? My mother even asks:

"Ariel, you're awfully quiet today, sweetheart. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's great, Mom... I'm just... digesting life," I reply, trying to smile while screaming internally.

Monday, February 17, 2025

It's morning, and I'm already at the company, sneaking through the hallways like a CIA agent trying to avoid eye contact with the one and only... the dreaded Mr. Daniel.

My plan? Get to the kitchen, make his coffee as quickly as possible, leave it in his office before he shows up, and disappear into anonymity.

But, as with every good plan that depends on luck...

"AAAAH!" I scream when I open the door and find Mr. Daniel already sitting in his chair, looking elegant and completely unbothered.

"Hey," he says, as if scaring me half to death at seven in the morning is the most normal thing in the world.

"Good morning, sir," I reply with such an awkward smile that even the coffee in the cup would be embarrassed for me.

"Seriously? Is that all you have to say? 'Good morning'?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Sir, I'm really sorry about the other night," I say, lowering my head as if I'm confessing to a crime.

"Drink more responsibly next time. Otherwise, you might wake up under a bridge," he says, standing up and adjusting his suit like he just stepped out of a perfume commercial.

"I'll keep that in mind, sir," I reply, trying to sound dignified.

"Do you regret what you did?" he asks, looking me straight in the eyes.

"Yes, sir. Very much," I answer honestly.

"Then you'll be making my coffee for another two months," he says with a slight smile.

Wait a minute. WHAT?!

Two more months? So that's what this was about?! All that... just to keep me as his personal barista?

"I want coffee. Will you make me some? Please?" he says, mockingly imitating my drunken voice before sitting down as if his chair were a throne.

"You weren't supposed to do that! You were supposed to ignore me and leave! My sister saw us... and now she thinks we're a couple!" I protest, turning as red as a bell pepper.

"Well, your sister is mistaken. You're definitely not my type," he says, as dry as a desert.

I almost choke on air.

I turn away, take a deep breath, and start making the coffee. When it's ready, I hand him his cup with an ironic little bow.

"Here you go, sir," I say.

I pour myself another cup and take a sip, trying to preserve at least a shred of dignity.

"It's perfect," I declare, savoring it like a professional coffee sommelier.

"The coffee produced by this company really is impeccable," he says, calmly taking a sip of his own.

"But I made it! I deserve at least a little credit, don't I?" I argue, clinging to the last scraps of my pride.

"Don't get carried away. Our company's coffee is the best-selling coffee in Brazil. You contributed a very... small part," he replies, refilling his cup as if he'd just won the argument.

Before leaving, he turns around with a smile I've never seen before—a genuine smile.

"Don't forget my noon coffee," he says... still smiling.

I stand frozen for a few seconds.

"Wow. That gave me chills," I mutter as soon as he leaves.

That's the first time I've ever seen Mr. Daniel smile like that. And honestly? It hit harder than the coffee itself.

I'm in the marketing department now, where they're filming a commercial to promote the company's product. Mr. Daniel's father and brother are here, too. Both are extremely serious and completely focused on the shoot.

It's my first time seeing the company's president up close. The tension in the air is almost palpable.

"This coffee is so delicious, Mommy!" says the child actress with a forced little smile.

"That's because I use Grão UP, sweetheart. It's the best coffee in the world!" the other actress replies, holding up the package and pointing it straight at the camera with that robotic smile you'd see in a margarine commercial.

"Cut!" the director shouts.

I watch in silence, trying not to laugh.

What a bland commercial... Absolutely no creativity! A little girl with a cup, a smiling mother, and a package trembling in her hand... Seriously? That's what they're putting on television?

I can't believe they'll approve this.

But, to my surprise, they do. Enthusiastically.

Now I'm helping dismantle the set, feeling a little disappointed as I think, If this is what sells coffee, maybe I should be writing the scripts, too...

Suddenly, Mr. Daniel appears, wearing his usual serious expression, though there's something different in his eyes.

"I need to talk to you about something," he says, getting straight to the point.

"What is it, sir?" I ask, trying to stay calm.

"I've been assigned an important mission. I need to travel to the countryside to meet a foreigner who's on vacation. My father wants him to try our coffee. If he likes it, he might decide to import it to his country."

I'm still not sure where this is going.

"But what does any of that have to do with me?" I ask, confused.

"You make the best coffee," he says in a lower voice, sounding almost reluctant to admit it. "If he tries yours, he might like it. And if he does... my father might finally see me as someone who's capable of handling business."

"But you said yourself this morning that the quality came from the company's coffee and that I'd only contributed a small part..." I point out, still surprised.

He sighs, sounding a little impatient.

"Forget what I said, okay? Come on, Ariel. Help me with this. I really need it to work."

I fall silent for a few seconds. I never imagined Mr. Daniel would ask for my help in such a... human way.

"All right, then," I finally say.

He gives me a slight nod of approval.

"Go home and pack. I'll pick you up in half an hour," Mr. Daniel says, already turning to leave.

My heart starts racing.

Me? Going on a mission with my boss? This is definitely going to make a good story.

I rush home and start throwing some clothes into a small suitcase. I'm still trying to figure out how I ended up getting dragged into this unexpected mission with Mr. Daniel when I suddenly hear a car horn outside.

I peek through the window and see his car already parked out front.

Not even twenty minutes have passed!

"Have a safe trip, sweetheart," my mother says, giving me a tight hug.

"Thanks, Mom," I reply, forcing a smile. My stomach is twisting with anxiety.

I hurry downstairs with my suitcase. Mr. Daniel is standing beside the car, wearing his usual serious expression.

"Let's go," he says curtly.

"Let's go," I echo, getting into the car.

The drive is silent for quite a while. I keep to myself, watching the road through the window, unsure of what to expect.

I can't shake the feeling that this trip is some kind of test... and I can't afford to fail.

We arrive at the hotel, which is far more luxurious than I'd imagined. Just being there makes me feel out of place, as if I've wandered into someone else's world.

"I'd like two rooms, please," Mr. Daniel tells the receptionist.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we only have one room available," she replies with a polite smile.

"Then I'll take it," he says without hesitation.

"Here's your key, sir," the receptionist says, handing it over.

WHAT?! JUST ONE ROOM?!

I freeze for a moment. I try to hide my discomfort. It's not romantic or anything; this is strictly a business trip. Still, sharing a room with my boss is... weird.

"Where's the foreigner?" Mr. Daniel asks.

"He's already in his room," the receptionist answers casually.

"And what is he doing tomorrow?" Mr. Daniel asks.

"All I know is that he's going to the zoo and having breakfast there," she replies.

We head upstairs to our room. When we walk in, I realize the space is... smaller than I'd expected. It's not exactly claustrophobic, but there's definitely not enough room to perform a boy band's choreography.

"You're sleeping on the couch," Mr. Daniel says flatly.

"And why would I sleep on the couch?" I ask, putting my hands on my hips, already outraged.

"Don't even think I'm going to sleep on the couch!" he says incredulously, as if I'd just committed the greatest heresy imaginable.

"If I don't get a good night's sleep, I'll wake up in a bad mood, and that'll affect my coffee-making abilities," I say with all the dramatic seriousness I can muster.

"Then what are we supposed to do?" he asks, clearly losing patience.

"Simple! We'll build a wall. A wall made of pillows!" I announce, jumping onto the bed with excitement.

"That's ridiculous..." he mutters as he watches me construct a veritable fortress of fluff in the middle of the bed.

"Done!" I declare proudly, admiring my masterpiece as if I'd just built the Great Wall of China: Hotel Edition.

After we've both showered, we finally lie down, each on one side of our pillow fortress.

A strange, almost comical silence settles over the room.

Tomorrow, the so-called mission begins.

But for now, I'm torn between worrying about the task ahead and the sheer absurdity of sharing a bed with my boss...

Separated by a wall of dignity.

#romance