Alexander Drake had always been a man of logic. A man who solved problems, dissected them, controlled them. But now, logic failed him entirely.
Ever since he’d returned from his trip, his thoughts refused to stay on the spreadsheets and reports that once defined his world. They drifted instead to her. To Eliza.
To the way her lips had trembled beneath his when he kissed her.
It had been reckless, out of line, utterly against every rule he’d ever set for himself. But the memory of it haunted him, the softness, the hesitation, the way she’d looked at him right after, like she was standing on the edge of something she didn’t understand.
And neither did he.
Days later, he tried to convince himself that it was a mistake. But each time he saw her, the truth was evident in his chest like a wound that wouldn’t close. He was in love with her.
Deeply.
Dangerously.
And that terrified him.
He began to notice small things: her laughter with the kitchen staff, the way her hands lingered over the roses she arranged in the hallway, the slight furrow of her brow when she was lost in thought. It all fascinated him, consumed him.
He had never cared about anyone like this. Never wanted to.
Little did he know that it was the bond they had as kids that always drew him to her to the point that it became romantic.
Something about her presence felt too familiar, as if she belonged to a part of his life that he had forgotten. He thought it was just love, but it was more than that.
He told himself it was paranoia. But curiosity soon took over reason.
So one night, in his study, with a glass of scotch in hand and his tie loosened around his throat, he made the call.
“Find out everything you can about her,” he said.
The voice on the other end belonged to Celine Rowe, a private investigator known for her discreet methods and unconventional charm, an ex-lover.
“Name?” she asked.
“Eliza.” He hesitated. “No last name. She doesn’t talk much about her past.”
“Interesting,” Celine purred. “And what exactly are we looking for?”
“Her background. Where she came from. Anything.”
Celine chuckled softly. “Consider it done, Mr. Drake. And… perhaps next time you call, you could do it over dinner instead of business?”
He ignored that, though her tone was suggestive enough to make him tighten his jaw. “Just do the job, Ms. Rowe.”
But when she arrived at his office the following afternoon under the guise of a progress report, he realized ignoring her would not be that easy.
Celine was striking—sleek red hair, a body sculpted to attract attention, and eyes that studied him like prey. She crossed one long leg over the other, her lips painted a deep shade of crimson.
“Mr. Drake,” she greeted, her voice dripping with honey. “I’ve started looking into your… mystery woman.”
He gestured toward the chair. “Sit.”
“Oh, I’d rather stand,” she said with a teasing smile, walking closer to his desk. “It gives me a better view.”
Alexander looked up from his laptop. “Of what?”
“You.”
He exhaled slowly. “Ms. Rowe, I hired you for information, not commentary.”
She smirked. “And yet, you called me personally. Most men in your position send an assistant. Makes me wonder what she’s done to you—this Eliza.”
He didn’t answer. His silence only encouraged her.
“You know,” she continued, leaning forward just enough for the neckline of her blouse to dip, “there are easier ways to forget a woman who’s gotten under your skin.”
He lifted his gaze, his tone cold. “I’m not trying to forget her.”
Celine froze for a second, then smiled faintly, almost impressed. “Well then, that makes things far more complicated, doesn’t it?”
Before he could respond, there was a knock on the office door.
“Come in,” he said sharply.
The door opened—and Eliza stepped in, holding a small folder of documents. Her gaze flickered between them, landing briefly on Celine’s hand resting against his desk. Something unreadable passed over her expression before she composed herself.
“I brought the updated schedule, sir,” she said quietly.
“Thank you,” Alexander replied, his voice softer now.
Celine turned slightly, her smile sharp as glass. “You must be Eliza.”
Eliza hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Alexander has told me so much about you,” Celine said sweetly, drawing out his name as though she owned it.
Eliza blinked, a flicker of confusion—and something like hurt crossing her face. “I see.”
Before she could leave, Alexander spoke. “That will be all, Eliza.”
She nodded quickly and left, her steps too steady to be casual.
Celine turned back to him, amused. “Oh, she’s adorable. I almost feel bad.”
He stood abruptly. “You’ll stick to your assignment, Ms. Rowe.”
Her smirk widened. “Of course. But tell me—what happens if what I find changes everything you think you know about her?”
He said nothing.
“Careful, Mr. Drake,” she murmured, moving toward the door. “Sometimes the past has claws.”
That night, Eliza barely slept.
She told herself it didn’t matter who that woman was, that she had no reason to feel… whatever it was she was feeling.
But the image of her tall, confident, beautiful lingering so close to him made something twist painfully inside her.
It wasn’t jealousy, she tried to convince herself. It was fear. Fear that the one person who made her feel seen might slip away before she even understood what he meant to her.
Her thoughts drifted to the locket she kept hidden in her drawer, the only piece of her past she remembered.
The next morning, Alexander found her in the hallway, rearranging a few books on the shelf.
“Eliza,” he said, his tone low.
She turned, startled. “Good morning, sir.”
He hesitated, studying her face. “About yesterday, that woman you sawshe’s just handling a few business matters for me.”
She nodded, though she didn’t entirely believe him. “Of course.”
“Eliza.”
Her eyes lifted to meet his.
“I didn’t like how she spoke to you.”
A pause. “You noticed that?”
“I notice everything about you,” he said quietly.
The words hung between them, undeniable, dangerous, real.
Her breath caught. “You shouldn’t.”
“Maybe not,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice deep and certain. “But I do.”
And before she could respond, his hand lifted to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin like he was tracing the memory of something he’d lost long ago.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, almost to himself. “Even when I’m away. Especially when I’m away.”
Her heart thudded. “Alexander…”
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Tell me to stop.”
She couldn’t.
When their lips met again, it wasn’t the hesitant kiss of before; it was deep, certain, filled with every restrained emotion they had both been denying.
But even as she melted against him, a shadow crept into her thoughts: Celine’s words, her sharp smile, and that unsettling feeling that the past Alexander was searching for might not stay buried much longer.
Because somewhere in the depths of her forgotten memories, the truth was waiting.
And when it surfaced, it would change everything.
