Chapter 3 Dreams Never Lie

• Aurelia woke with a strangled breath.
• Her sheets were tangled around her legs, her nightshirt stuck to her skin, sweat sliding down her spine. The early morning light bled through the curtains, soft and gray, and for a moment she didn’t move—afraid to.
• Her heart wouldn’t slow.
• The dream clung to her like smoke.
• She didn’t remember all of it. Only flashes. Sensations.
• Rain.
• Stone under bare feet.
• Hands—warm, strong—gripping her hips.
• Lips brushing hers like the kiss meant something more.
• Like it had always meant something more.
• And eyes.
• Not her own.
• His.
• But she hadn’t seen his face.
• That was the worst part.
• She could feel him. The way his chest pressed to hers. The way his breath hitched. The way she leaned into it like she knew him. Like she belonged there. In that storm. In his arms.
• But he had no face.
• No name.
• And yet… her body remembered.
• Her thighs clenched involuntarily as she pressed a shaky hand to her stomach.
• “Jesus,” she whispered into the room, voice hoarse.
• It had been vivid. Too vivid. Her skin still tingled from the ghost of it.
• She lay back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling, confused and breathless.
• She hadn’t felt that way in her dreams before.
• Hell, she hadn’t felt that way in real life.
• Not even close.
• The office was buzzing by the time she arrived—coffee in hand, coat damp from the still-drizzling morning storm. She moved through the elevator lobby on instinct, head still foggy from the night before.
• But it wasn’t just the dream.
• It was him.
• Callum Maddox.
• She hadn’t seen him again since the elevator moment. Since his voice curled down her spine like a whip.
• She didn’t know what it was about him that pulled at her. It wasn’t just the looks—though he had those in lethal doses. It was the weight he carried. Like he was made of old grief and quiet fire. Like something inside him had shattered and never been repaired properly.
• And his eyes…
• God, they’d made her want to look away and stare longer at the same time.
• Aurelia settled into her desk with her laptop, trying to drown in work, but her focus refused to stick. She found herself glancing up toward the elevators, toward the private access that led to the top floor.
• She didn’t expect him to come down.
• He was a ghost up there.
• Untouchable.
• Callum watched her from the security feed.
• Not obsessively.
• Not yet.
• Just long enough to remind himself that he hadn’t imagined it. That the girl with Emery’s eyes really existed.
• She wasn’t acting odd. No strange behaviors. No smirks. No games. She didn’t flirt with anyone. Barely made eye contact. All quiet professionalism and cautious posture.
• It should’ve reassured him.
• It didn’t.
• Because she sat there like a woman trying not to be seen.
• And Callum had always been drawn to shadows.
• He closed the feed. Stared out the window for a long time. His phone buzzed beside him—ignored.
• The silence in the room was sharp.
• That night, Aurelia dreamed again.
• Fingers slipping into hers.
• A whisper against her ear.
• A kiss. Harder this time.
• She moaned into it, body arching against the phantom weight pressing her into something solid.
• Her nails dragged across a chest—bare. Warm. Familiar.
• And then a scream.
• Not hers.
• His.
• And then—silence.
• She woke with a sob caught in her throat, hands gripping her sheets, knees bent, body on fire.
• She didn’t know who he was.
• But she missed him.
• Deeply. Desperately.
• Painfully.