Chapter 3 – Coincidence… or Something Else?
Her phone rang.
Lily grabbed it instantly.
"Daniel, I—"
She froze.
"Sophie… oh." Her voice collapsed into something fragile. "I can't go out. Daniel and I… it's complicated. He won't answer me."
"Complicated?" Sophie sounded shocked. "He told me yesterday he was going to propose!"
Propose.
The word shattered her.
Tears slid down her face before she could stop them.
"I ruined everything…"
But Sophie promised to speak to Daniel. And for the first time that day, Lily felt the smallest thread of hope.
She would explain everything.
She had to.
Hours later, she found herself sitting alone in the nearly empty editorial office of Shengtang Group.
She didn't remember walking there.
She just needed somewhere familiar.
Somewhere solid.
She opened her email out of habit.
The subject line froze her blood:
Executive Appointment Announcement
And then she saw the photo.
Sharp jaw. Controlled expression. Eyes like polished obsidian.
Ethan Blackwood.
New CEO.
The glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.
Across the corridor, Ethan heard it.
He had been reviewing the floor layout with Adrian.
His gaze shifted slightly.
"Interesting," he murmured. "An employee working alone on a weekend."
Through the glass wall, he saw her.
The same woman from that night.
The one who had trembled in his arms.
The one now pretending innocence.
Disgust flickered across his face.
"Stay," he told Adrian.
And walked in alone.
Lily stepped back instinctively.
Her heel caught on broken glass.
She slipped—
And collided straight into him.
Solid. Warm. Unyielding.
Her hands shot up instinctively, clutching at his shoulders.
Her breath caught.
When she looked up—
Those eyes.
Cold. Evaluating. Dominant.
She released him instantly and retreated.
But he didn't let her escape.
He closed the distance slowly, deliberately, until her back hit the wall.
Trapped.
He didn't grab her violently this time.
That made it worse.
Two fingers tilted her chin upward.
"Following me?" His voice was calm. Too calm.
"I work here," she whispered.
"A coincidence," he said lightly. "And you being the only person here?"
His gaze dropped to her mouth.
Lingering.
Assessing.
She felt it like a touch.
Her body reacted before her pride could stop it—her pulse quickened, breath uneven.
She hated that.
Hated that her body remembered.
He leaned closer.
Not touching.
Just close enough for her to feel the heat of him.
"You change quickly," he said softly. "Last night you were desperate to get closer."
Her eyes flashed.
"That wasn't me."
He studied her face carefully this time.
Not mockery.
Not amusement.
Suspicion.
Doubt.
And something else.
Then, suddenly, his hand slid to her waist and pulled her forward.
The kiss wasn't savage.
It was controlled.
Intentional.
His mouth captured hers with cool authority—slow at first, testing.
Claiming.
Not devouring.
Her hands pushed against his chest.
But the pressure wasn't enough.
His thumb brushed her jaw, tilting her further.
Deepening it.
Her lungs burned.
Her mind spun.
Not because of force.
But because he kissed like a man used to being obeyed.
Used to being chosen.
And she hated that her knees weakened.
When he finally pulled back, she was breathless.
Shaking.
Humiliated.
He studied her flushed face carefully.
As if evaluating a business acquisition.
"You're either a very good actress," he said quietly, "or you really don't remember."
Her heart stopped.
That.
That was the first crack in his certainty.
And he knew it.