But Boss, I Can't Kill Hot Women (GirlxGirl WlW) [EXCERPT]

I groan under my breath as I put on my apron, tying it around my waist with enough force to rip the fabric. This is utterly embarrassing, humiliating, and degrading.

"Stop complaining. I'm helping you guys out and all you do is complain," the café manager snaps as I step out from the back room. "Yael, you've completely plummeted the café's sales. Our reputation is done for... I should be the one groaning and complaining."

"Yeah, yeah. Aren't you getting your filthy money?" I mutter, barely glancing at him.

"Filthy money?" he barks. "I'm doing this for my family. And I still have to pay the rent for this place. Do you have any idea how expensive it is to be in this location—I'm running at a loss!"

I roll my eyes and move behind the counter, checking my watch. Five minutes until Eve arrives.

"Don't ignore me," he says, stepping in front of me, his face flushed with anger. "I'll opt out of this bullshit."

"Opt out?" I arch my eyebrow at him. "There's no way out now, Rafael. Be good and get out of my way, yes?"

He scoffs, muttering under his breath as he finally walks away, knowing better than to push his luck.

The first few days of following Eve were exciting—learning her patterns, piecing together her routines, feeling the thrill of the hunt. But after a week of nothing but watching her go to work and then home again, the excitement has faded. I need to make a bolder move soon, or I'll lose my mind.

She still comes to the café every morning, always at the same time. She complains about the coffee I serve her, every single day. Either she hates change, or she just enjoys telling me to my face.

"Maybe I should just kill her now. It'd be a lot faster," I mumble to myself, wiping down the counter. "She's too hot, though. What a waste."

I catch my reflection in the polished surface—hair pulled back, face set in a scowl. Seducing a multimillionaire woman as a barista. What a joke.

I know Eve will walk in any second, punctual as always. She'll order her usual, barely look at me, and then leave. She never stays, never smiles. She's a mystery wrapped in a very sexy package.

I look up from the counter when the door opens. Eve walks in, hands tucked into the pockets of her black coat. She pauses, scanning the nearly empty café—just the same guy hunched over his laptop, milking the free internet. Her gaze lands on me, lingering for a few seconds before she strides over.

"A soy latte with no foam," she says, her tone as flat as ever, brown eyes flicking over my face. "No foam."

"Name?" I ask, pretending not to notice the edge in her voice.

"Eve."

We've done this every day for the last couple of days. Of course I know what she wants, and of course I know her name, and she knows I know it—I just enjoy hearing her say it.

I write her name on the cup, adding a smiley face at the end. Is this supposed to be my idea of a bold move? Maybe I'm not that good at flirting after all. I prepare her drink, making sure to snap the lid on tight—mostly to hide my failed attempt at a no-foam latte—then hand it to her.

She eyes the cup, curiosity flickering across her face as she takes it from my hand. Her gaze lifts to mine, sharp and searching, as if she's trying to figure me out. "Scribbling a smiley face doesn't make your coffee any better."

"You seem to come back for it," I reply with a shrug.

Her lips twist with that familiar sarcasm. "I used to like the coffee. Now I like how there's never a line, so thank you, really." Her voice is low, meant just for me. Her eyes flick down to the name tag pinned to my apron. "Yael."