Chloe settled Leo into the quiet Brooklyn apartment. She made sure he was comfortable on the couch with his Lego set before grabbing her keys. She needed sterile, organic groceries for his strict diet.
She walked into the massive Whole Foods in lower Manhattan. The bright fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
Chloe pushed her shopping cart down the organic produce aisle. She stared intently at the list on her phone, checking the labels on the vegetables to ensure they met Leo's medical requirements.
She moved to the oils section. She needed a specific bottle of extra virgin olive oil. It was sitting on the very top shelf. Chloe stepped closer, rising onto the tips of her toes. She stretched her arm up, her fingers just grazing the glass bottle. It was too high.
Suddenly, a large, strong hand reached over her shoulder from behind. The long fingers easily grasped the bottle and lowered it into her cart.
A wave of cold cedarwood cologne washed over her.
Chloe's entire body went rigid. The air trapped in her lungs refused to move. The scent was burned into her memory. It was him.
She kept her head down, staring blindly at the olive oil in her cart. "Thank you," she muttered, her voice shaking.
She grabbed the handle of her cart and jerked it sideways, desperate to escape the aisle.
She moved too fast. The front wheel of the cart slammed into the metal base of the shelving unit. A loud, screeching scrape echoed through the quiet aisle. The cart stuck fast, blocking her exit.
Carlisle turned around. His tall, broad-shouldered frame completely blocked the overhead light, casting a dark shadow over her. He looked down at the flustered woman struggling with the cart.
He frowned. As he stood there, a faint, distinct scent drifted into his nose. Rose mixed with bitter orange.
Carlisle's pupils contracted violently. He stepped smoothly into her path, his tall, broad-shouldered frame completely blocking her only exit. His physical presence was suffocating, yet his posture remained impeccably restrained.
Chloe's heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She ducked her head lower. She let her dark bangs fall forward, using the thick rims of her glasses as a shield.
"What perfume are you wearing?" Carlisle demanded. His voice was a low, calm, yet intensely oppressive rumble that vibrated in Chloe's chest.
Chloe forced her throat to open. She deepened her voice, adding a heavy nasal tone. "It is just a cheap drugstore brand, sir."
Carlisle's eyes narrowed into sharp slits. He did not believe a word of it. He did not reach for her, but his gaze felt like a physical weight, a cold, calculating scrutiny that meticulously dissected every inch of her visible profile.
A loud honk shattered the tension.
A supermarket employee pushing a massive, overloaded restocking cart rolled right between them. "Excuse me, coming through!" the worker yelled.
Carlisle was forced to take a step back to avoid being hit by the heavy boxes.
In that split second, Chloe shoved her cart backward, abandoning it. She spun around and sprinted down the adjacent aisle, blending instantly into a crowd of shoppers near the bakery.
Carlisle pushed past the worker and the cart. He scanned the crowd. He saw nothing but a sea of ordinary coats and backs. He yanked at his silk tie, his chest heaving. He cursed under his breath, convinced the stress of the upcoming merger was causing him to hallucinate his dead wife's scent.
Chloe locked herself inside a stall in the women's restroom. She leaned her back against the metal door and gasped for air. Her hands shook violently. She reached up and touched her glasses, making sure her disguise was still perfectly in place.
Three days later.
Chloe sat in the waiting area on the top floor of the Beaumont Group headquarters. She wore a stiff, shapeless gray suit. Her hair was pulled back so tightly it hurt her scalp.
The HR Director sat across from her, flipping through the fake resume. He looked up, highly impressed. "Your fluent French and your documented crisis management skills are exactly what we need for the CEO's office."
A woman sitting next to Chloe, wearing a tight designer dress and heavy perfume, scoffed loudly. "Please. Look at her. She dresses like a librarian. The CEO needs someone who can represent the company's image."
Chloe turned her head slowly. Her eyes were dead and cold behind the thick lenses.
"The company's image is currently suffering a three percent drop in European market confidence due to the recent supply chain failure," Chloe said, her voice flat and loud enough for the HR Director to hear. "I assume you plan to fix that with your lipstick?"
The woman's face flushed bright red. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
The HR Director slammed the folder shut. He pointed a pen at Chloe. "You are hired, Ms. Sinclair. You start tomorrow."
The woman in the designer dress glared at Chloe, her teeth grinding audibly. Chloe ignored her. She took the employment contract from the director. Her fingers gripped the paper tightly.
Chloe walked out of the HR office. She stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in the hallway. The entirety of Manhattan stretched out below her feet. Her eyes were devoid of any warmth.
Miller, the executive assistant, walked briskly down the hall holding a stack of files. He stopped and looked the new secretary up and down.
"You are the new hire," Miller said. "Listen closely. The CEO has a terrible temper. Do exactly as you are told, speak only when spoken to, and never make assumptions."
Chloe lowered her head. She slumped her shoulders slightly, perfecting the posture of a submissive, desperate employee. "I understand, Mr. Miller. I will be very careful."
Miller gave a curt nod and walked away.
Chloe lifted her head. She stared at the heavy mahogany double doors at the end of the hall. The CEO's office. A cold, sharp smile touched the corners of her mouth.
That evening, Chloe unlocked the door to her Brooklyn apartment.
Leo was sitting on the rug, snapping two Lego pieces together. He looked up and smiled.
Chloe dropped her bag and knelt on the floor. She pulled Leo into a tight hug. She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the clean, sweet smell of baby shampoo. The sheer terror of nearly being caught by Carlisle in the supermarket finally drained out of her muscles.
She looked over Leo's shoulder at her bag on the floor. The edge of the Beaumont employment contract peeked out.
She tightened her arms around her son. Your nightmare is about to begin, Carlisle, she thought.
