The boardroom had emptied.
One by one, executives filed out with polite nods and stiff smiles, the kind people wore when they sensed something beneath the surface but didn't dare ask. Ethan barely noticed them leave. His attention was rooted to the space Ava had just vacated—the chair still warm from her presence, the ghost of her perfume lingering in the air like a trap.
He hadn't breathed properly since she walked in.
Now alone, he stood and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands braced against the cold glass. The skyline stretched out in a blur of lights and movement, but his mind was fixed on a different city. A different time.
Five years ago. One night in Paris.
She'd been wearing a red dress, laughing too loudly at something he said, sipping cheap wine like it was vintage. They were supposed to be strangers—just two people escaping the world for a little while. No last names. No promises.
But she had ruined that with a kiss.
And he had let her.
That night had been fire and chaos and whispered things he never dared to repeat. Then, by morning, she was gone. No explanation. No goodbye. Just a note with two words:
I'm sorry.
He thought he'd moved on. Built walls so high that not even her memory could climb them. But the moment Ava Bennett stepped back into his world, all those defenses shattered like glass underfoot.
Ethan turned back toward the room and grabbed her résumé from the table. It looked so... clinical. Words and degrees and work experience lined up in neat bullet points, as if her presence in his life hadn't once been messy, painful, beautiful.
Her current address was in Manhattan. Her references were solid. No mention of why she disappeared from her last job—or his life.
A knock at the door broke his thoughts.
"Yes?"
It was Lauren, his assistant. "Ms. Bennett is still in the building. HR wants to proceed with the second stage of the interview. They'd like your input."
His jaw tightened. Of course they did.
"Send her to my office in ten," he said.
Lauren nodded and slipped away.
Ethan exhaled, then crossed the room and loosened his tie. He needed to be composed. Detached. CEO Ethan Cole—not the man who once whispered her name like a prayer against her bare shoulder.
But when she walked into his office minutes later, it all unraveled again.
Ava stepped in, her expression unreadable. "You asked to see me?"
"No," Ethan said smoothly. "HR did. I'm just... the formality."
She arched a brow. "Is that what I am now? A formality?"
He looked up from her file, meeting her gaze with steel. "You tell me. Why are you here, Ava?"
Her lips parted slightly. "I applied for the position. HR called. I showed up. That's how jobs work, Ethan."
"You could've picked any company in New York. But you chose this one. My company."
"I didn't realize your ego had grown bigger than your business." Her tone was calm, but her eyes gave her away. She was shaking too—just better at hiding it.
Silence wrapped around them, thick and suffocating.
He leaned back in his chair, jaw set. "Why did you leave?"
Her breath caught.
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," he added. "Five years ago. You walked out like I was nothing."
She looked away. "I had my reasons."
"Then enlighten me."
But she didn't speak. Instead, she straightened, spine stiff, expression cold.
"This is a professional setting, Mr. Cole. If you have nothing further regarding the position, I'll excuse myself."
He almost laughed. Cold. Distant. She was good at this game.
But she wasn't the only player anymore.
"Fine," he said. "You'll hear from HR."
Ava turned to leave.
"Do you still have it?" he asked suddenly.
She paused at the door. "Have what?"
He didn't move. "The bracelet."
A heartbeat.
Then another.
And just before she walked out, she whispered, "Some things are harder to throw away than others."
The door clicked softly behind her.
And Ethan knew—whatever game they were playing, it had only just begun.