The door opened.
And just like that
four years disappeared.
Dad's laugh filled the foyer.
"About time you came back to New York."
A deep voice answered, warm and familiar.
"Good to see you too, Daniel."
My heart stopped.
No.
Not stopped.
Worse.
It stumbled.
Then kicked back to life so violently I felt it in my throat.
I couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
I stood frozen beside the dining table, my fingers gripping the back of a chair so tightly my knuckles turned white.
The sound of a suitcase wheel rolling across hardwood echoed through the house.
The low murmur of men's voices followed.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Four years.
Four years of distance.
Four years of pretending.
Four years of convincing myself that time healed everything.
Time, it turned out, was a liar.
Dad stepped aside.
And Adrian Blackwood walked into view.
The world tilted.
He looked
Good.
Older.
Not old.
Never old.
Just older.
The kind of older that made powerful men look even more dangerous.
Silver threaded through the dark hair at his temples.
His shoulders seemed broader somehow beneath the charcoal suit jacket.
His tie had been loosened slightly, as if even billionaires got tired after long flights.
His jaw was sharper than I remembered.
Or maybe memory had softened him.
Reality hadn't.
Reality was worse.
Much worse.
Because reality breathed.
Reality moved.
Reality stood in my parents' foyer after four years, looking unfairly handsome.
My breath caught painfully in my chest.
My fingers slipped from the chair.
His gaze swept the room.
Casual.
Unhurried.
Then it landed on me.
And stopped.
Everything inside me went still.
The room faded.
The clink of dishes.
The smell of rosemary and roasted chicken.
The city outside.
Gone.
There was only that look.
Recognition.
Surprise.
And something else.
Not attraction.
Not yet.
Just shock.
As if he'd expected to see a memory
and found a stranger wearing familiar eyes.
His brows lifted slightly.
"Ava?"
The way he said my name
softly.
Questioningly.
Like, he couldn't quite believe it.
Nearly undid me.
I swallowed hard.
My throat suddenly felt too tight.
"Hi, Adrian."
Brilliant.
Absolutely brilliant.
Four years, and all I had was hi.
A slow smile spread across his face.
Warm.
Genuine.
Dangerously familiar.
The same smile that had ruined my life at sixteen.
"Look at you."
Three harmless words.
Three words that shattered six years of emotional self-control.
Heat rushed into my face so quickly I could feel it in my ears.
I looked down for a second, pretending to smooth imaginary wrinkles from my sweater.
Coward.
Complete coward.
Dad laughed.
"I told you she'd grown up."
Adrian's gaze remained on me a second longer before he looked at my father.
"You weren't exaggerating."
Wonderful.
Fantastic.
Exactly what every secretly-in-love woman wanted to hear from the man she'd spent years trying to forget.
Mom emerged from the kitchen carrying a serving bowl.
Her eyes flicked from me to Adrian.
Then back to me.
One corner of her mouth twitched.
Traitor.
Absolute traitor.
"Adrian," she said warmly. "Welcome home."
His expression softened immediately.
"Chloe."
There was genuine affection in his voice.
The kind that came from decades of friendship.
Family.
Because that's what he was to us.
Family.
The thought hurt more than it should have.
Because family wasn't supposed to look at each other the way I had looked at him at seventeen.
Or eighteen.
Or nineteen.
Or twenty.
Or twenty-two.
Dad clapped Adrian on the shoulder.
"You've been gone too long."
Adrian exhaled softly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.
A gesture so human.
So ordinary.
Not the billionaire.
Not the hotel king.
Just a tired man who'd traveled too much.
"I know."
For the briefest second, something flickered across his face.
Exhaustion.
Gone so quickly, I almost missed it.
But it was there.
And suddenly I remembered the articles.
The interviews at impossible hours.
The 3 a.m. emails Dad occasionally mentioned.
Insomnia.
I didn't know why that detail made my chest ache.
Only that it did.
"Sit down," Mom said, gesturing toward the table. "Before dinner gets cold."
We all moved.
Normal.
Casual.
As though my world hadn't just shifted on its axis.
Dad and Adrian slipped into conversation immediately.
Business.
Travel.
A hotel opening in Singapore.
Something about investors.
I heard none of it.
Because Adrian sat across from me.
Across.
From.
Me.
The universe had jokes.
Cruel ones.
I reached for my water glass.
My hand betrayed me.
The glass slipped slightly against my fingers.
Not enough to fall.
Enough to embarrass me.
Great.
Adrian noticed.
Of course he did.
His brows knit briefly.
"You okay?"
Concern.
Simple concern.
Nothing more.
And yet my heart reacted like it had been handed a love letter.
Pathetic.
Absolutely pathetic.
"I'm fine."
My voice came out too quickly.
Too bright.
Too obviously not fine.
Lily would have kicked me under the table by now.
Mom quietly passed me the bread basket.
A silent rescue.
I loved that woman.
Dad launched into a story about a fishing trip from years ago.
One involving rain, a broken boat engine, and apparently Adrian falling into a lake.
I blinked.
Adrian?
Falling?
The image was so unexpected that a laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Not polite laughter.
Real laughter.
The kind that bubbled up without permission.
Adrian looked over.
His eyes met mine.
AnHed for one suspended moment
he smiled.
Not the public smile.
Not the billionaire smile.
A real one.
It reached his eyes.
Warm.
Unguarded.
My breath caught.
There it was again.
That dangerous feeling.
The one that whispered:
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
I crushed it immediately.
No.
Absolutely not.
Hope had never been kind to me.
Dinner continued.
Conversation flowed.
The house felt alive.
And now and then
when I forgot to guard myself
I'd look up and find Adrian already watching me.
Not often.
Just enough to make my pulse stumble.
Just enough to make me wonder.
And wondering had always been my weakness.
By the time dessert arrived, I had learned two things.
FirsFourt
Fou years hadn't changed a thing.
Not for me.
And second,
seeing Adrian again wasn't the problem.
Leaving him again would be.