Chapter 2 The Second First Time

• The rain never let up.
• It hit the building in waves, washing the tall windows in a gray blur, muting the sounds of the city below. From the sidewalk, the world looked surreal. Slowed. Like it was moving through water.
• Aurelia Wynter stood just under the awning at the side entrance of Maddox Global, her fingers clutched around the strap of her handbag. The cold breeze slipped through her coat, but she didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
• She didn’t know why she kept staring at the sky like it meant something.
• She didn’t remember rain before two years ago.
• She didn’t remember anything.
• They told her she was lucky to be alive.
• A high-speed crash. Her car flipped twice, landed in a ditch, engine burning. She survived.
• Her memory didn’t.
• No family ever came. No name on her ID. Just a hospital band, a concussion, a fractured arm, and a new name she barely recognized.
• Aurelia.
• It sounded elegant. Like someone she should’ve been.
• But sometimes she still hesitated when saying it aloud.
• Her hand lifted without thinking, brushing the faint scar behind her ear—small, clean, almost invisible unless someone was close.
• That scar and her eyes were the only things about her she knew.
• Or so she thought.
• The glass doors behind her hissed open.
• And then she saw him.
• Everything inside her… stopped.
• He didn’t say a word. Didn’t look at anyone. But Callum Maddox might as well have sucked the air straight from the sidewalk.
• Tall, powerful, brutal in the way his suit hugged his frame. His face was cold, handsome, carved like something designed to break softer things.
• And he looked right at her.
• Not long.
• Not obviously.
• But his eyes flicked up—just once—and something deep in her chest snapped.
• Like a wire pulled too tight.
• It didn’t make sense.
• Her body shouldn’t respond to a stranger. Her chest shouldn’t ache. Her stomach shouldn’t twist.
• And yet… it did.
• He paused.
• Just slightly.
• A moment.
• Brows furrowed faintly. Like a memory brushed his skin.
• Then he was gone.
• Inside.
• Out of sight.
• But he took something with him.
• Something Aurelia didn’t have a name for.
• Callum didn’t breathe until the elevator doors shut behind him.
• He gripped the railing, jaw tense, heart knocking against his ribs harder than it had in months.
• It was nothing.
• She was no one.
• A new hire. Maybe an assistant. Maybe marketing. He didn’t keep track of every face that walked through his building.
• But those eyes.
• They hit him like a punch to the ribs.
• He could’ve sworn—
• No.
• He didn’t finish the thought.
• Didn’t want to.
• The mind could play tricks. It did that sometimes, especially when grief sat under the surface like a landmine, waiting to be triggered.
• Still…
• He hadn’t seen that color in two years.
• That shape. That sharp, expressive gaze that held emotion like it was trying to bleed into someone else.
• She wasn’t Emery.
• She didn’t look anything like her.
• Different build. Different mouth. Different posture. This girl moved cautiously. Tucked into herself. Almost like she didn’t know how to take up space yet.
• But the eyes…
• He stared at the elevator doors until they opened.
• Then he swallowed it down like every other ghost that lived in his chest.
• The thirty-seventh floor smelled like expensive cologne, leather, and polished marble. Aurelia walked carefully, heels silent on the matte floors, folder clutched to her chest.
• Her first day had been quiet. She liked that.
• She was good at staying unnoticed.
• She didn’t talk much. Didn’t smile unless she meant it. And she definitely didn’t understand why everyone on the floor moved like they were one mistake away from being fired.
• But now she was here. Hands shaking slightly. Being told to deliver a file directly to the office of the man who had just looked through her like he was seeing straight into her bones.
• She pressed the call button for the executive elevator.
• Callum stood with his back to the room when she stepped in.
• He didn’t turn.
• He didn’t need to.
• He knew it was her the second the air shifted.
• His grip on the edge of the desk tightened.
• “Leave it,” he said, voice even. Cold. “I’ll review it later.”
• “Yes, sir.”
• Soft.
• There was something about the way she said “sir” that got under his skin.
• “Your name?”
• She froze. “Aurelia. Aurelia Wynter.”
• He turned.
• Just enough to see her fully.
• His gaze dragged from the dark waves of her hair, down to the way her coat hugged her curves. She was beautiful. Devastating. The kind of woman who didn’t need to try to be looked at.
• But she wasn’t Emery.
• And yet—
• The eyes.
• Green. Vivid. Familiar in a way that made his chest hurt.
• He masked it quickly.
• “That’ll be all.”
• She nodded once. Quiet. Professional.
• Turned.
• And left.
• He didn’t breathe again until the door closed.
• Then he sat.
• Hard.
• Stared at nothing.
• His fingers found the desk drawer and unlocked it. Inside was the only thing he hadn’t destroyed.
• A photograph.
• Creased at the edges. Emery, grinning. Hair wind-tossed. One hand shielding her eyes from the sun.
• Her eyes.
• His thumb brushed over the photo.
• And for the first time in months…
• He felt something close to panic.