(Xavier's POV)
The phone rang far too early. For a moment, I thought it was one of my managers—another crisis, another fire to put out before the sun had fully risen. But when I turned over and checked the screen, my brows shot up.
Flora.
Her name glowed against the dim light of my bedroom. For a heartbeat, I froze. It had been months since I heard her voice outside of clipped business updates, yet there she was, calling me before dawn as though nothing had changed.
I answered, my voice still heavy with sleep. But before I could form a proper greeting, that familiar melody slipped through the line—warm, playful, almost too sweet.
"Xavy… good morning."
The nickname tugged something in my chest I had long buried. My lips curled despite myself. "Good morning, Flora. What a surprise. I wasn't expecting to hear from you." My laugh was light, but my heart was already pacing itself against something unseen.
Her reply brimmed with joy. "I'm in town now. I got here three days ago."
Three days? My smile faltered. "Did you just say you've been back for three days?" I teased, though my voice was lined with something sharper. "And only now you found it necessary to tell me?"
She laughed softly, a sound I knew too well. "Xavy, it's not like that. I've been tied up since I arrived. But I was thinking… maybe today we could go check on the building. The site. I really wanted to see how things are coming up."
I rubbed a hand over my face. Of course she would say that. Of course she would sweep back into my city with no warning, slide into my life like the gap she left was only a brief pause. My chest ached with an emotion I couldn't place—resentment, relief, maybe both.
Still, I found myself agreeing. "Fine. I'll pick you up at six. We'll go together. What do you say?"
"Perfect." She sounded almost triumphant. "See you then."
The call ended before I could change my mind.
For a moment, I just sat there with the phone in my hand, staring at the ceiling. Was I happy she was back? Absolutely. Or at least, I told myself I should be. Flora had been important to me once—maybe still was. But why, when her name appeared on my screen, did my mind betray me with an image of someone else entirely?
Khloe.
The memory of her standing with me in that boutique, helping pick out clothes for Flora, flashed vividly. I hadn't lied when I said Flora wasn't coming, that she'd had a change of plans. But the guilt clawed at me anyway. Why did I feel as if I was hiding something? Why did Khloe's face surface in moments that had nothing to do with her?
I shoved the thought down and swung out of bed. The clock read 4:34. Too early for most men, but not for me. If you ran the companies I did, mornings weren't optional—they were discipline carved into your bones.
I showered, letting the water pound against me until I could focus again. When I stepped out, the foggy mirror reflected the man I always showed the world: Xavier Rush, the man in control. I went to my closet, sifted past the endless rows of suits, and pulled out a sleek black one. Sharp lines, tailored shoulders. I paired it with polished shoes and checked the time again. Perfect.
By the time I descended to the garage, keys in hand, I had convinced myself that today was only business. Flora was a client, a partner, a friend. Nothing more.
The drive to her apartment was smooth, the streets still waking. When I arrived, she was already waiting, her energy as bright as I remembered.
"Xavy!" she exclaimed, rushing forward to hug me.
I allowed it, even returned the gesture lightly. "Flora. It's good to see you in person again."
She chuckled when she pulled back. "How have you been, in person?"
I smirked at the tease, shaking my head as we moved toward the car. We caught up as I drove—her recounting Austria, the projects she'd been involved in, her complaints about jet lag. I responded when I could, though my mind kept slipping elsewhere.
Midway through the drive, a realization struck me like a blade. Khloe. I hadn't informed her about today's site visit. She was supposed to be there. Damn.
Cursing under my breath, I called Jayden, her driver. "Pick Khloe up and bring her to the site. Let her know we're reviewing progress today," I instructed, disguising urgency in my voice. He agreed quickly.
I exhaled, returning my focus to Flora. She didn't notice my lapse; she was too busy talking about structural designs, the color of the tiles, the way she pictured the completed building.
When we arrived at the site, the crew was already bustling. Flora's excitement was contagious, her eyes darting over the scaffolding, the glass panels, the skeleton of the dream she had poured into blueprints. I let her revel in it.
Then another car pulled in. Sleek. Familiar. My chest tightened.
Khloe.
The moment her door opened, time shifted. Out stepped temptation wrapped in simplicity—yet nothing about her looked simple. She wore a pink dress, soft yet daring, the slit carving along her leg with sinful precision. Every line of her body caught the sunlight and demanded attention. My attention.
My pulse skipped. Damn it. Was she planning on seducing me? Because, truthfully, it was working. Every curve she carried, every delicate stride she took across the gravel seemed choreographed to torment me. She wasn't trying—and that was what made it worse.
I tore my eyes away, forcing them back to Flora, who was still talking. But even as I nodded at her words, my thoughts betrayed me, dragging back to Khloe.
By the time I dared to glance again, her eyes had found me. Direct. Steady. It was like being caught in a storm I couldn't escape. Slowly, she began walking toward us, and each step rattled something loose inside me.
"Good morning, sir," she greeted, her tone calm, professional, but her presence anything but.
"Good morning, Khloe," I replied, my voice deeper than intended. The sound of her name on my tongue sent an echo down my spine.
She nodded politely, her gaze flickering between Flora and me. It was time to bridge the gap.
"Khloe, this is Miss Flora—my friend. She's the one this building belongs to."
Khloe smiled, extending her hand with grace. "Nice to meet you."
Flora accepted warmly. "Likewise."
Then I added, as if reminding myself as much as them, "And this is Khloe Karl—my assistant. My first assistant."
The words hung in the air heavier than I meant them to. My first assistant. The first one who managed to slip past every line I'd drawn between myself and the people who worked for me. The first one who unsettled me, made me question, made me want.
As they exchanged pleasantries, my thoughts spun dangerously. Flora was here—beautiful, accomplished, confident. She had history with me, a piece of my past that once mattered. And yet… standing beside her, watching Khloe in that pink dress under the morning sun, I felt my control fraying thread by thread.
I added lightly, almost as a distraction, "She's come from Austria, so we'll be treating her right."
The words were harmless, yet the way Khloe's brow lifted ever so slightly told me she had caught more beneath them. Something unspoken, something she tucked away for later.
And I—I was left standing there, split between two women. One from my past, one who occupied my present. And my heart, traitorous as ever, already knew which direction it was leaning.