Chapter 1 "Ah, he's alive. I was going to send out a search party for you." My assistant, Champagne, leans her hip against my office desk, her eyes on her long, hot-pink nails, picking at something as I exit what I refer to as the closet. A room only I can enter, attached to my office, and only accessible with my biometrics and a code that changes every thirty seconds. I rub the top of my blond head as I twist my back to crack out the stiffness. "I know, I know." I hold up a hand to her and check my watch. Fuck. It's nearly eight in the morning, and I have a board meeting at ten. I meant to leave earlier than now. "Is anyone else here yet?" "Not many, but that's why I came in here and pushed the button." I nod in appreciation even as a wicked yawn hits me so hard I shudder with it. The button she's referring to is an app that makes a light in my closet flash on and off, alerting me I'm needed. "Thank you." "It's Tuesday," she states, abandoning her nails to hit me with a stern, perturbed look. I chuckle. "I'm aware. I'm not that out of it." "Maybe not, but you look like hell. I told everyone you were working from home yesterday. How long were you in there this time?" "Just since Saturday. I'm working on a couple of things." "You're always working on a couple of things." She rounds my desk and follows me out into the empty hall to stand before me, concern all over her face. "When was the last time you had anything real to eat? I know the last time you showered." She scrunches her nose while giving me a big once-over with her large, disapproving brown eyes and a motherly look only she can get away with. "I'm not answering that. And some of this might be from my midnight drumming session." I shrug unrepentantly. It gave me the endorphin and adrenaline burst I needed to keep going. It also made me a sweaty fucking mess, and the bathroom I have in my closet has no shower. "Go shower and please shave. You've got suits hanging in your real closet. I'll run down to the café on the corner to get you something that doesn't come from the vending machine." "Nah, I'll do that. Thank you, though. I need to get out and stretch my legs for a bit. Don't worry. I'll be back, showered, and ready well before the meeting." Her lips purse as she eyes me. It's not the first time I've made that promise and not kept it. "You better be," she warns. "Now get moving before people see you." I throw a hand up and head for the elevator. "Remember, you have assistant interviews starting tomorrow. My retirement date is in eight weeks." I stumble over my feet as I step onto the elevator and hit the button for the first floor. Shit. How did that come on so fast, and how on earth will I ever find an assistant like Champagne? It's impossible. I trust no one but her because she's worked for me for eight years since I took over as the CEO of Monroe Securities, and my mother, who was the CEO for two decades before that. Champagne knows me. She knows who I am and what I do, and that's not something I share with hardly anyone. Blinding sunlight singes my eyeballs when I step out of my building, the heavy glass door swooshing behind me as a guy in a suit hustling past me nearly body slams me. "Watch it, dick," he barks, only to catch a second glimpse of me and immediately grimace, regretting his harsh words. "Never mind. Sorry, man." Before I can reply, he scurries away, and I snicker. I must really look like shit. I glance down at myself. Black slacks that... yeah, those are food and coffee stains. Black button-down shirt that's again covered in shit I dare not name. No coat despite the frigid temperatures. I scratch my jaw and won't even consider how grizzly my beard is, and I'm wearing my glasses because my eyes were hurting. I suppose that's what happens when I haven't slept much for the better part of three days. I drag my hands back through my greasy hair to try to tame the too-long locks into some semblance of not fucked, only to realize it's hopeless and yank an old Boston Rebels hat from my messenger bag and shove it on my head. Whatever. Since when do I give a shit about how I look? I almost laugh at how ridiculous I'm being as I head toward the coffee shop on the corner. I'm stiff and tired and can't wait to go home and sleep, but that'll have to wait. Today is not my sleeping day. First the board this morning, then I have to get the person. Well, two people in this case. There's the black hat hacker attacking one of our companies, and then there's the asshole who's trying to mess with my friends Loomis and Keegan. Neither hero nor villain, I exist as the CEO of a cybersecurity company by day and a hacker by night. Which means I need some coffee and food not from the vending machines in my building. I head up the block, tucking into myself as I fight the wind, wishing I had remembered my damn coat. My phone rings in my pocket, and I slip it out only to smile. I swipe my finger across the screen and drop an AirPod into my right ear. "Hey, man," I answer Stone, one of my best friends. "How's it going?" I can hear the hospital in the background, which is no surprise. He's a pediatric emergency room physician. "Hey," he replies. "I've been texting you. You had me worried after three days of no replies and missing our hockey game on Sunday. Everything good?" That has me scowling. "Sorry. Yeah. I meant to reply, and by the time I went to, it was the middle of the night. You guys probably won without me anyway." "It was a hard-fought battle, but Owen and I pulled it off. What's up? You heading out to work?" "I'm good. Just leaving the office to get some coffee before I head back." He blows out a breath. "All right. Shit, man. How many hours have you been awake?" I chuckle. "Too many to count, but it is what it is." "You need sleep. It's not good for you not to." "Thanks, Doctor. I'll take that under advisement along with how I shouldn't put bacon on my egg and cheese this morning, nor should I have it on a bagel. Spoiler alert: I intend to do both." I can hear the smile in his voice as he replies, "Fine. But you're coming to Sorel's baby shower this weekend." I roll my eyes as I reach the café. "I wouldn't miss it, and I'll even sleep, shower, and shave before I come." The warm blast of air, accompanied by the incredible scent of coffee and greasy food, practically has me groaning as I get in line. "Good stuff. Because Mason is a little too excited about crashing his wife's baby shower, and he'll need us to rein him in." I smile thinking about that. "It'll be-" My voice cuts off when my breath dies in my lungs. I blink and blink again, positive my overly tired brain is simply playing tricks on me. Except as I study the girl at the counter taking orders, I know that's not what it is. I'd know those bright blue eyes and that sweet smile anywhere. Even without having laid eyes on them for the last ten years. And she's wearing the bracelet. The delicate silver chain with the diamond half heart on it. The other half is buried six feet under. I rub my forearm over the hidden tattoo, my heart hammering so hard in my chest it's making me dizzy. "Van? Vander, you still there?" Stone yells in my ear. "I gotta go," I mumble and disconnect the call. I slip my AirPod from my ear to my case and bag, then mechanically shift with the line, all the while unable to tear my eyes away from the girl. Visions of the last time I saw Liora flash through my head like the pages of a graphic novel I forced myself to stop reading years ago. The day of Cassian's funeral. No. After that. The night at my dad's tattoo parlor before I left for MIT. Her smile. Her body. Her kisses. Her soft words. Her touch. Her love. Her tears. I walked away from her that night, sick to the point of second-guessing everything. It was as if she cursed me, and I spent far too long haunted by her, unable to shake her ghost. We were just kids, and it was a lifetime ago. But... I was crazy about her. She was the smile that woke me up every morning. Her brother's death ruined me. Ruined both of us. And two weeks later, I was gone, leaving her behind. It led me down a very dark path. One that was reckless and self-destructive. "Next!" she calls out because I stopped moving, and now it's my turn. "Good morning!" she chirps, all bright sunshine for this cold, gray winter morning. "What can I get you?" "I'll have an Americano with one sugar and two creams and a bacon, egg, and cheese on a sesame bagel, please." She punches everything into the tablet in front of her before she glances up and meets my eyes for the first time. And there's something in them. A shift. Searching. They hold before they trickle around my face and down my body until she adjusts her weight to her other foot and glances back down at her screen. Likely because I look like a serial killer and not because she recognizes me in return. "That-" She clears her throat. "That'll be sixteen thirty-two. What's a name for the order?" I reach for my wallet, flip it open, and stare at the choices of payment before me. So tempted. What would she do if I said my name or handed her a credit card with it printed on it? Then again, if she hasn't recognized me yet, is this how I want her to see me again for the first time in ten years? "Bennett," I say, using my friend Katy's husband's name because it's the first to pop into my head. I hand her a twenty. "Keep the change." "Thank you," she replies. "That's very kind of you. Next," she calls, and that's my cue to shift to the side and wait for my food, my body buzzing and my gaze locked on the back of her head. "Um, miss, you got my order completely wrong," a woman gripes from beside me. "You. Blonde girl." Three sharp finger snaps clip by my ear. Liora's head whips over, and that smile is still in place. She comes to the other side of the counter, having someone else take over the screen. "Oh, I'm so sorry. What did you⁠-" Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Findηovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I ordered a tall latte with half skim, half whole milk, one pump of espresso, one pump of vanilla, one pump of hazelnut, and one and a half shots of espresso with extra foam." "Um. Okay." "This garbage"-the woman sneers, sliding the cup across the counter toward her and nearly having it topple over and spill before Liora catches it-"is full-fat milk. I know. I can tell. How can this be your job, and you get something so basic wrong? It's not exactly brain surgery. I should know." What a bitch. I'm about to tell her off for being just that when the manager comes out from the back room. "Is there a problem here?" "Yes!" the woman cries and repeats her coffee tragedy for him. But instead of soothing the woman and offering her another drink and saying that's a stupid order, and these things happen, he lays into Liora. "Let me see what you put in the computer for her order," he barks harshly, and Liora, all flushed-faced and flustered, grabs an extra tablet and pulls it up. "I see. It's in here correctly." "Yes," Liora states. "But I'm the one who made it, and she's saying I didn't do half-skim milk." "Because you didn't!" the woman shrieks indignantly. "Are you suggesting I can't tell the difference between half-skim and all whole milk? I get this order every day." "I'm very sorry," Liora tries again. "I'd be happy to remake your order." "Which will come out of your paycheck," her manager states coldly, and Liora winces as if having to pay for it is worse than getting yelled at publicly by these two assholes. "Errors like that are unacceptable. I don't care that you're new here. Get it right or don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out." Liora audibly swallows, and I can't stand this. What the fuck is wrong with people? "For fuck's sake, it's coffee," I snap, no longer able to stand it. "It's a cup of coffee. How awful and miserable of a person do you have to be to berate someone for making a simple mistake on a stupid order like that?" The woman gasps, completely affronted. "Excuse me. This does not concern you." "And you." I point at the manager. "What kind of asshole speaks to their employees that way? There have to be a hundred wrong orders a week at least, and you make her take that out of her paycheck?" He squints at me. "We do not allow vagabonds in our store. How did you even get in here?" I laugh. I guess I shouldn't be shocked he thinks I'm unhoused by my appearance, but damn. I pull out my wallet, slip a fifty from it, and hand it across the counter to Liora, though I am tempted to hand him my black Amex just to see his face. "Here. Pay for the princess's coffee from this, and you can keep the change again." "Um, that's very nice, but⁠-" "I insist." Liora takes the fifty and starts to make the woman's coffee. I stare her boss down until he gets uncomfortable and steps back. "Well, I guess it's under control now. You should leave after you get your order. As I said, we don't allow certain types of people in here." "Then I'm shocked they allow either of you in." Much to my dismay, he doesn't reply. He's anxious to go and does, flying through to the back room. Likely because we've drawn a bit of an audience. "And who did you steal that wallet from?" the doctor snips primly. I round on her, looking at the name on her coffee cup. "What hospital do you work in?" She straightens her spine, trying for self-importance. "I'm a neurosurgeon at Brigham and⁠-" "Not anymore. I know your chief, Luca Fritz, very well. Maybe next time you won't be so nasty and take your shit out on others simply because you can." Liora slides her new drink across the counter to her. "Here you go, ma'am. Sorry for the error." "It's Doctor." She grabs the cup, makes a weird, shrill noise as if she's the victim, and storms out. I text Luca and let him know that this woman got off on berating an old friend and was cruel for the sake of being cruel. He owes me one, but what he does with that is up to him. I can only hope he gets rid of her. "Thank you," Liora whispers to me. "You didn't have to do that." "I did. I can't stand rudeness simply for the sake of rudeness unless I'm the one doing it." She giggles, thinking I'm joking. I partially am. "Are you okay?" She waves me away. "I'm fine. Not the first time someone was a jerk to me and certainly not the last. Here." She hands me my order and the fifty back. "You shouldn't have to pay for that." I shake my head. "Neither should you. Keep it." "You know you're the second Bennett I've met recently." That pulls me up short, and despite how I look and the ten years between us, it bothers me that she doesn't recognize me. "Oh yeah? Where was that?" "At MGH. Thankfully, I don't work with Little Miss Sunshine." She bobs her head toward the door where the doctor just left. "I'm a nursing student. The other Bennett is a trauma surgeon." I laugh, unable to stop it. She's referring to my friend Katy's husband, who runs the department. Oops. She gives a look. "You can stay here if you have nowhere else to go. I know it's cold out and you don't have a coat. The manager won't come back out. He never does." "That's very kind of you, but I work up the block and have to get back for a meeting." "Oh." She laughs lightly and blushes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate⁠-" "It's fine," I tell her. "I've been working on a case and haven't left my office in a few days." I glance down at myself and back up to her, a self-deprecating smile on my lips. "Obviously." The line has cleared out, and she grabs a spray bottle and rag and comes out from behind the counter to start cleaning tables. "Are you a lawyer?" she asks as she sprays the cleaner and wipes it up. "No. I work with computers. Why would you ask if I'm a lawyer?" She shrugs. "You mentioned a case. Just where my mind went. Do you work for the school?" Now my smile grows because this coffee shop is technically on the campus of the university, so I'm sure she gets a lot of staff and students here. "No. I don't work at the school. What kind of nurse do you want to be?" Her eyes meet the floor, and after a strangely long pause where she twirls her bracelet a few times, she utters, "An OB nurse and eventually a nurse midwife." That. It practically knocks me sideways with how it hits me. Because my mother is a nurse midwife, and Liora used to work at her office. It was a small practice in our small town in the middle of nowhere, Maine, but Liora loved it and always told me that's what she wanted to be. "I think that's amazing," I manage, taking in the lines of her face. "Do you have a boyfriend?" I don't know why I ask or my purpose behind it. Liora hasn't been in my life for ten years, and dating women isn't something I do for more reasons than I can count. She picks up the spray bottle and rag and moves to the next table, one a bit farther from me as if she's trying to create some distance. "Why? Are you asking me out?" "If I did, would you say yes? I don't always look like this." I wave a hand up and down my body. She keeps her head down and her face averted from me. "It's not that, and I'm sure you're great, but I live with someone." Inexplicably, my throat tightens and my skin prickles. "Is it serious?" The words slip out before I can stop them, but I don't take them back. There's no ring on her finger, and I don't know why I care, but I do. I want her to be happy, and I want her life to be full, but I also never wanted her with anyone but me. She smiles, and my chest squeezes at how beautiful and familiar it is. "Pretty serious. I think for us, it's forever." Fuck. "Lucky guy." My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I already know it's Champagne wondering where I am. "I need to get going." "Sure. Have a good rest of your day, and thanks again for stepping in like that." "It's the least I could do." Because once upon a time, I broke her heart. And without intending to, broke mine in return.