Elina’s POV

We walked into a cafe, and Ryan picked a table by the window. I sat across from him, adjusting my blazer to make it clear I meant business. My notebook rested on my lap, and I tapped it lightly with my pen, waiting.

“How do you like your coffee?” Ryan asked as he called over a barista.

“I’m good, thanks,” I said.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at me. "You can't come to a café and not have coffee. That's like going to a concert ...