Vegeta looks up from his computer at the smartly-dressed man standing in his doorway, about to knock. "Yes?" Vegeta says, mildly annoyed that his secretary hasn't informed him of a visitor.

"Your secretary was away from her desk," the man informs him, sensing Vegeta's irritability. "And I have some important news that shouldn't wait." He hesitates at the door, waiting for Vegeta to inform his next move.

Checking his schedule and seeing that his afternoon is free, Vegeta motions him in wordlessly. The man closes the door behind him and takes a seat at one of the plush leather chairs situated in front of Vegeta's desk. "My name is Kami," the man says once he settles in and places a folio of documents on Vegeta's desk. "I am the lawyer representing the estate of a Mr. Frieza. I'm to inform you that he has been, er, that is to say," he clears his throat, "that he has passed away. I am here on behalf of Mr. Zarbon, the executor of Mr. Frieza's estate."

"Frieza's dead?" Vegeta can't help but exclaim.

Kami nods. "Yes, I am afraid so. I'm here to inform you that you've been left an inheritance."

Vegeta can't believe it. He hasn't heard hide nor hair of Frieza and his cronies in nearly a decade. Vegeta had moved on. He'd made a life of his own: finished his business degree, got a high-paying executive job, his own office. A secretary! He'd never dreamed he'd have a secretary of his own.

"Wait," he says, snapping out of his reverie. "Did you say 'inheritance'?" Since when would Frieza leave him anything? They hated each other's guts. Frieza had vowed to put a bullet in Vegeta's head the next time they met.

"Yes," Kami replies succinctly. He sighs. "I'm afraid it's not a conventional lump sum of money, however," he continues. "Mr. Frieza left particular instructions in his Will that you be given ownership of the coffee shop he owned."

A coffee shop. Frieza had purchased, with his hard-earned and probably illegal money, a coffee shop. Of all things. "What was it, a front?" Vegeta asks drily.

Kami chuckles. "Ah, no. This was one of Mr. Frieza's, er, legitimate interests. He specifically requested that you run it in his stead once he passed on. He said that you were the most qualified, having pursued your business degree and taking employ at such a prestigious company."

Vegeta tilted his head. "So then why would he think I'd have any interest in running a… a coffee shop?" he asked.

Kami shrugged. "I mean, he's dead, you can do what you want with it. Sell it, close it, anything at all."

Vegeta contemplated this for a moment before sliding the folio toward him. Yeah. Alright. What the hell.

A/N: This story was originally published on AO3 under the same title. You can also find goodies on my tumblr (url: jadefyre) under tagged/black-coffee-au.