Abigail's POV
If there was a record for the fastest way to lose all professional composure, I had just shattered it.
Because standing in the grand foyer of the Castillo estate-surrounded by expensive art, amused stares, and an uncomfortably curious family-was him.
Chocolate eyes.
Only now I knew his name.
Christian Castillo.
The man I had kissed like I'd known him forever. The man whose name I hadn't even asked before running away like a coward. The man who now stood in front of me looking like sin in a suit-sharp jaw, dark gaze, a calm that felt anything but.
And fate, the twisted little thing, had decided to make him my employer's grandson.
He was staring right at me. No, through me-that same searching look from the bar, except this time, there was something harder beneath it. Recognition. Confusion. And maybe a hint of satisfaction that I didn't want to think about too much.
I straightened instinctively, gripping the clipboard in my hand so tightly my knuckles ached.
"Miss Davenport," Mr. Castillo said beside me, oblivious to the storm building in my chest. "This is my grandson, Christian. He's finally returned home."
I forced a polite smile, the kind that came with professionalism and panic in equal measure.
"Mr. Castillo," I said quietly. "It's... nice to meet you."
His lips curved, not quite into a smile. "We've met."
The words dropped like a pebble into a silent lake. Every head at the table turned slightly toward us.
"Oh?" Alberto raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "You two know each other?"
My brain screamed deny, deny, deny.
"Not exactly," I said too quickly. "I think he's mistaken."
Christian's gaze sharpened, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Am I?"
The silence stretched, and I could practically hear Martha holding her breath. Lola hid a grin behind her wine glass. One of the twins-Esmeralda, I thought-whispered something to her sister that sounded suspiciously like, "Oh, this is going to be good."
Alberto chuckled, entertained. "Well, it seems there's a story here."
"There's not," I said hastily. "I just-uh-thought I'd seen him somewhere. Probably the news. Castillo Group's quite famous."
Smooth. Very smooth. I should win an award for worst liar of the year.
Christian's smirk deepened. "Right. The news."
If I could've melted into the marble floor, I would've.
Martha, bless her soul, swooped in like a guardian angel sensing the impending social death. "Mr. Castillo," she said, clapping her hands lightly, "your medication is due in twenty minutes, and Miss Davenport still has a few notes to review with me in the kitchen."
I nearly hugged her.
"Of course," Alberto said, nodding. "Christian, we'll continue later. Miss Davenport, you're dismissed."
"Thank you, sir," I murmured, backing away like the floor was on fire.
As soon as I rounded the corner into the hallway, I exhaled hard, pressing a hand to my chest. My heart was thundering-fast, uneven, and furious.
"Of all the people in this city," I whispered to myself, "it had to be him."
He wasn't supposed to be real anymore. He was supposed to stay a nameless, perfect memory-a moment that didn't count.
Not this. Not my boss's grandson.
But fate clearly had a dark sense of humor.
I busied myself in the kitchen, pretending to check Alberto's supplements while my mind refused to stay quiet. I could still feel the weight of Christian's stare. Still hear that low, rough voice that had sent a rush of warmth down my spine that night.
The way he'd said, We've met, like a secret and a challenge at once.
Martha placed a hand on my shoulder. "You all right, dear? You look like you've seen a ghost."
I forced a laugh. "Something like that."
She smiled knowingly, but said nothing more.
I went about my duties, determined to avoid any chance of running into him again.
But I had a feeling Christian Castillo wasn't the type to make avoidance easy.
The sun was setting when I found Alberto seated on a lounge chair by the garden. The evening light spilled gold across his face, softening the lines of age.
"Ah, there you are," he said as I approached. "I was beginning to think you'd run away too."
I smiled despite the heaviness in my chest. "Run away from you? Never."
He chuckled, setting the book aside. "Good. I'd hate to lose my favorite company."
It surprised me how easily I'd come to like him. For a man who built an empire, Alberto Castillo carried a quiet kindness. A strength wrapped in gentleness. He reminded me of my father in some ways. The way he spoke. The patience in his voice. The way he noticed when someone's smile didn't quite reach their eyes.
"How are you feeling today?" I asked, checking the portable monitor beside him.
"Like a man who's lived too long and loved too little," he said lightly. Then, with a small sigh, "But seeing Christian today... it almost feels like I've been given another chance."
The mention of his name sent a small jolt through me.
I adjusted the monitor's strap, pretending it didn't affect me. "He seems... reserved."
"Reserved," Alberto repeated with a small smile. "That's a polite way to say cold, I suppose."
I bit back a laugh.
"He's not cold, Abigail. Just careful. Life hasn't been kind to him. But you'll see-there's a good heart beneath all that armor."
I wanted to believe that. I really did. But all I could think about was the look in Christian's eyes earlier-dark, sharp and too aware. The kind of gaze that made it hard to breathe.
Still, something about Alberto's tone made me soften. He loved his grandson deeply-that much was obvious. And I didn't want to be the reason for any more strain between them.
"I'll keep that in mind," I said quietly.
He patted my hand. "You do that. And don't let him intimidate you. He's just like his grandfather-impossible at first, but easily tamed with the right touch."
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "I think I'll stay far away from taming anyone, sir."
He smiled, but his eyes lingered on me for a long moment. "You remind me of someone," he said finally. "Someone I once knew, long ago."
I didn't ask who. Something about the sadness in his voice told me not to.
*****
I stayed later than usual that night, grateful I hadn't run into Christian again. By the time I gathered my things, the estate was mostly quiet, save for the distant hum of voices in the study.
But as I stepped into the dim hallway, I felt it-that subtle shift in the air, that awareness that only comes when someone's eyes are on you.
"Leaving already?"
I didn't need to turn to know who it was.
I should've known it was too soon to celebrate.
