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DOMINIC

I waited in the corner suite of the investor lounge on the seventeenth floor, a space my assistant had reserved with quiet efficiency before the morning meeting ever began.

It was glass-walled and private, outfitted with sleek, modern furnishings and upholstered armchairs arranged like a calculated afterthought around a marble-topped coffee table.

The skyline cut a sharp edge beyond the windows against a haze of midmorning light, but I wasn’t here for the view.

A tray of espresso and mineral water sat untouched beside the leather folder I carried in but hadn’t opened.

I didn’t need notes for this conversation.

There was nothing strategic or formal about what I intended to say.

This wasn’t about the merger, the pitch, or the board. This follow-up wasn’t even business.

It was about her.

The moment I saw Savannah walk into the conference room that morning, everything I thought I’d compartmentalized snapped free of its restraints.

I’d spent two years pretending that night hadn’t followed me across every time zone, hadn’t seeped into the edges of my silence, hadn’t reshaped the way I looked at women entirely.

And I knew, the moment I saw her again, I’d have to figure out what that night had meant to her—because I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

Now here I was, only a few breaths away from finding out, and my chest felt tight. I put this behind me, swore I wouldn’t let it hang me up anymore, but the first sight of her had knocked that conviction out of me faster than I expected.

Her name hadn’t been on the briefing. No one said a word about her working here, and it wasn’t an oversight. But when she stepped into that room with color in her cheeks and her shoulders held stiffly, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence.

I checked the time. Twelve minutes since I sent the email. Two minutes past what I asked for, but I let it slide.

I stood and adjusted my cuffs and tie, trying to channel the tension into something productive. I didn’t know what she’d say. I wasn’t even sure what I’d say. But it couldn’t wait. We were both in this now, and I wasn’t going to let her presence throw the entire operation off-balance.

The elevator dinged outside the glass wall. I heard the steady rhythm of her heels on the floor. When the door opened, she walked in like she had every right to be here.

She filled the space with quiet confidence, her frame tall and solid, her curves commanding attention without apology.

The cut of her dress emphasized the lines I remembered, but what struck me more was the calm set of her mouth and the focus in her eyes.

She looked better than I remembered—stronger, more composed, but every bit as stunning.

I could still hear the sounds she made when I touched her, still remembered the feel of her under my hands. I forced myself to stay still.

“You came,” I said.

Savannah shut the door without hesitation. Her grip on the handle lingered before she turned. “You emailed. I assumed that it wasn’t optional.”

“It wasn’t.”

She crossed her arms and stayed where she was. “So, what is this, Dominic? Am I in trouble for doing my job too well, or did you just want to remind me who’s going to own the building?”

“Knight Holdings is looking to acquire controlling interest,” I said. “This merger needs a clear rollout strategy, and the team here mentioned your name after the meeting. It caught me off guard. I didn’t even know you worked here until you walked into that room.”

“I just got hired,” she said, huffing. Her eyes narrowed and she lifted one brow. “They floated my name?”

“They did—after the meeting.” And when they did, I told them I’d handle it—thus the email.

“You didn’t know I was here.” I watched her throat constrict as she swallowed against whatever emotion was rising in her throat. I could see the tension line her forehead.

“No. I didn’t.”

She nodded once and stepped farther into the room, though she didn’t sit.

Her arms remained crossed. Her chin tilted higher than necessary, like she was trying to keep her guard from slipping.

She was just as turned on by being alone with me as I was.

Her body language was all wrong for just nerves.

I slid my hands in my pockets. “You’re good at what you do. I think they noticed it right away, maybe it’s why they hired you. They think you’re the right person to lead the project, and after today, I can’t say they’re wrong.”

“So you think I’m the right person?”

“I think it should be someone I trust.” I took a step closer to her.

She didn’t respond right away. Her arms remained folded across her chest, and she shifted her weight slightly like she was grounding herself before saying something she’d regret. The muscles in her jaw tightened as her eyes searched mine, looking for whatever line I might cross next.

“You don’t trust me,” she said finally. “You trust my father.”

I met her eyes and held them without flinching. “I want to.”

She exhaled slowly, turned toward the window behind me, and studied the skyline with a focused stillness. She wasn’t looking at the view. She was buying herself time.

“You could’ve asked,” she said, her voice quieter now. I met her eyes in the reflection in the window, and for a brief second, I saw fear.

“Asked what?”

She turned back toward me and lifted her chin. “Why I never used the number you gave me before you flew to Zurich. Why I wasn’t here in Seattle when you got back months later.”

I didn’t answer her. I wanted to. The words pressed at the back of my throat, but I kept them behind my teeth.

She had every right to ask, and I had every reason to say something, but whatever this was between us—whatever it had once been—it wasn’t something I was willing to drag into the light without knowing she was ready to meet it halfway.

She shifted her stance, her arms still crossed, but her posture less defensive now.

I took a step forward, not enough to crowd her but enough to feel the heat between us.

Her breath caught, just slightly, and her gaze dipped before snapping back up.

I saw the flush bloom across her chest and throat, and I knew I wasn’t imagining the tension anymore. She felt it too.

Neither of us moved for a long moment. I could still taste her name in the back of my throat, still remember the way her fingers gripped my shoulders and her voice broke when I whispered against her skin. The memory wasn’t faint or distant. It lived in my blood.

She shifted again, reached for the door handle, and paused. “If that’s all, I should get back.”

I didn’t answer right away. She opened the door and stepped out, but I followed.

“Savannah.”

She stopped in the hallway, turned just enough to meet my eyes over her shoulder.

“I’d like to talk again,” I said. “Not about the merger. About the two of us. Off the record.”

She didn’t smile. She didn’t speak. But she held my gaze for one full beat longer than necessary before she nodded once and kept walking.