Three days. That's how long it had been since dinner. Three days, and I still couldn't shake her.
Work should have fixed it. It usually did. Numbers, contracts, deals—my world was built on logic and precision, and there was no room for distraction. But distraction had found me anyway, in the shape of Elijah's sister, and it followed me like a shadow I couldn't outpace.
Her eyes haunted me the most. That soft, defiant fire, the way she'd looked across the table as if she wanted to speak but couldn't. The silence between us had said more than words ever could, and I'd felt it coil tight inside me, refusing to let go.
I told myself I'd stay away. That was the promise I made as I sat at my desk long after midnight, glass of whiskey untouched, phone buzzing with messages I didn't answer.
But the truth was, I didn't trust myself anymore.
And when Elijah walked into my office that morning, dropping a folder onto my desk with a grin, the universe seemed to enjoy mocking me.
"You'll like this one," he said. "Lyra's been assigned to help oversee the logistics. She'll be working directly with your team for the next few weeks."
I felt my jaw tighten before I could stop it. Of course.
I leaned back in my chair, schooling my face into its usual calm. "You're sure that's a good idea?" My voice was steady, but the storm beneath it threatened to break.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Elijah shrugged, oblivious. "She's sharp, organized, and she keeps everyone on track. Frankly, I trust her more than half the managers in my office."
I didn't argue. I couldn't. Because he was right—Lyra was capable, maybe more than anyone else I knew. That wasn't the problem.
The problem was me.
As Elijah rattled off details, I forced myself to nod, to listen, to keep my mask in place. But inside, one thought kept looping, relentless and dangerous.
She was going to be in my world now. Close. Too close.
And no amount of discipline might be enough to stop what came next.