Chapter Two
I stared at the note for longer than I should have, her words running circles in my head. "Some connections are meant to last just one night."
Was that really it? Just one night?
I crumpled the paper in my hand and threw it on the bedside table before swinging my legs out of bed. The floor felt cold under my feet, grounding me as I tried to shake off the weight that settled in my chest. This wasn't me. I didn't do fleeting. I didn't do meaningless.
But last night had been anything but meaningless.
The smell of her lingered in the air—a mix of vanilla and something faintly floral. My mind betrayed me, pulling me back to the way she'd laughed, the way her touch had seemed to unravel pieces of me I thought were safely hidden.
Shaking my head, I pushed the thoughts aside and headed for the shower. The scalding water was meant to clear my head, but it didn't. The ghost of her was everywhere—in the soft brush of water on my skin, in the memory of her lips on mine.
By the time I stepped out, the city was already alive, horns blaring and people shouting below. I dressed quickly, throwing on a crisp shirt and a tailored jacket, trying to armor myself in routine. Work would help. It always did.
But as I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby, I caught my reflection in the mirrored walls. I looked the same—sharp, composed, every detail in place—but something was different. Something was... missing.
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The office was its usual symphony of chaos when I arrived. Assistants buzzed back and forth, phones rang off the hook, and blueprints were spread across every available surface.
"Ethan!" Claire, my assistant, hurried toward me, clutching her tablet. "You're late. Mr. Lancaster called twice, and the city council meeting is rescheduled to Thursday. Also, the nonprofit project—"
I held up a hand, forcing a small smile. "Slow down, Claire. One thing at a time."
She nodded, rattling off the day's agenda, but her voice faded into the background as I glanced at the stack of papers on my desk. They were just designs, lines and measurements on paper, but they usually meant something to me. Not today.
"Ethan?" Claire's voice cut through my thoughts.
"Sorry, what?"
"I said the nonprofit client will be here in an hour. You're meeting with the project coordinator to finalize their vision before the next round of approvals."
I nodded, trying to muster the focus I needed. "Got it. Thanks, Claire."
She gave me a skeptical look before retreating, leaving me to prepare. I forced myself to dive into the project, reviewing the plans and envisioning how the building would take shape.
When the hour was up, I stood in the conference room, my portfolio spread out on the table. I heard footsteps approaching and turned to greet the client.
And then I saw her.
Aria.
She walked in with the confidence of someone who owned the room, her dark hair pulled into a loose braid and a notebook clutched in her hand. For a moment, she didn't see me, too focused on speaking with the man beside her.
But when her eyes finally landed on me, she froze.
Her lips parted slightly, and something unreadable flickered across her face—surprise, maybe. Or regret.
"Ethan," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Aria." My own voice felt strained, like it had to fight its way out.
The man beside her cleared his throat. "You two know each other?"
Aria recovered quickly, flashing one of those disarming smiles that had wrecked me just hours ago. "We've met," she said simply.
"Small world," I said, my tone sharper than I intended.
She arched an eyebrow, but didn't respond. Instead, she slid into one of the chairs, her focus shifting to the designs spread out before her.
I should've been angry. Hell, I should've been indifferent. But as I watched her study the plans, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips, all I could think about was how close she was—and how far away she felt.
Whatever this was, I knew one thing: one night wasn't going to be enough.