CHAPTER TWO — HIS STRANGE FAMILIARITY
1514 Words
Adrian’s executive floor was nothing like the bustling lobby below.
It was silent—unnaturally so. The kind of silence that felt intentional, designed, engineered. Even the air felt colder. Cleaner. Sharper.
Amara walked behind him, her heart hammering with every step. She wasn’t sure if her legs were shaking from nerves, fear, or the overwhelming awareness of the man in front of her.
Adrian Rhodes moved like a shadow that had learned how to breathe—efficient, precise, powerful. The dark fabric of his suit stretched perfectly over defined shoulders, and every step he took echoed with a confidence that didn’t need to be spoken.
He didn’t look back at her once.
They reached a door made of black glass. Without touching anything, it slid open.
A smart door?
A security lock?
Something more?
She didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Inside, the office was massive—floor-to-ceiling windows, a wide desk made of black marble, minimalist furniture, and digital screens that flickered with codes and maps she couldn’t comprehend.
Adrian stopped at his desk but didn’t sit. Instead, he turned to her slowly, his eyes sweeping over her face again—measuring, studying, memorizing.
“Sit,” he said quietly, motioning to the chair across from him.
She obeyed, her palms sweat-slick.
Adrian watched her. Not in the way a boss watched a new employee, but in a way that felt personal. Too personal.
Like he was looking at a memory.
Finally, he spoke.
“Your first task,” he said, “is simple.”
She waited.
“Tell me everything you remember.”
Her breath caught. She opened her mouth, but no words came. How did she explain blankness? How did she explain the hollowness inside her skull where her life used to be?
“I—nothing,” she whispered. “I only woke up in the hospital. They said I was in an accident. I don’t know who I was before. I don’t know where I lived. I don’t know if I had a family or friends or—”
Her voice cracked.
Adrian’s expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—pain. Sharp, buried, quickly restrained.
“Nothing at all?” he asked, his tone softer now.
She shook her head.
“What about flashes? Dreams? Sounds?”
“Yes…” she admitted.
His posture stiffened.
“What kind of flashes?”
She clasped her hands together. “Fire. Screaming. Someone pulling me. A man’s voice calling my name.”
“What name?” His voice was tight now. Controlled.
“I… I don’t know. It’s always muffled. But the way he says it—he sounds desperate. Like he’s begging me.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He turned away abruptly, facing the window.
The city stretched beneath them, bustling, alive—but the silence between them felt heavier than the noise below.
After a moment, he asked, “The bracelet you woke up with. May I see it?”
Amara hesitated, then unhooked it and placed it on his desk.
Adrian picked it up gently, as if it were made of glass, not silver. His thumb traced the engraved letters—A.O.—and his eyes darkened with emotions she couldn’t decipher.
“You kept it,” he murmured. “Even now.”
“Should I not?”
“You should,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “It’s important.”
She waited, hoping he would explain, but he didn’t. He put the bracelet down carefully, like it was sacred.
“Your full name,” Adrian said finally, “is Amara Onyema. For now.”
Something in the way he said for now made her chest tighten.
“Is that not my real name?” she asked quietly.
Adrian looked at her. Really looked at her.
“It’s the name you will use while you’re employed here.”
A non-answer.
A warning.
A shield.
Her pulse quickened. “Why did you hire me? You didn’t look at my CV. You didn’t ask me any questions. You just… took me.”
Adrian stepped closer—not touching her, but close enough that she felt the warmth of his presence brush her skin.
“Do you want the professional answer,” he murmured, “or the truth?”
“The truth.”
He exhaled slowly. “Because the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you walk out of this building.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
His voice lowered, almost dangerous in its softness. “I mean that I’ve been looking for you for a very long time.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “But you don’t even know me. I don’t even know me.”
Adrian leaned slightly closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse race.
“You look exactly like someone I once knew,” he said. “Someone I lost.”
Her voice shook. “Who?”
He stepped back instantly, putting a wall between them.
“That doesn’t matter anymore.”
But the way he said it—the break in his voice—told her it did matter. Deeply.
Before she could ask more, there was a soft knock on the door. Adrian’s assistant, an older man with grey hair, entered timidly.
“Sir, the board meeting—”
“Reschedule it,” Adrian snapped, not taking his eyes off Amara.
The man blinked. “Sir… reschedule the board meeting?”
“I said reschedule it.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
When the door closed, Amara stared at Adrian in disbelief.
“You canceled a whole board meeting?”
“Postponed,” he corrected calmly.
“So you could talk to me?”
“So I could keep you safe.”
Safe?
The word chilled her.
“From what?” she whispered.
Adrian’s gaze hardened. “From the people who hurt you.”
Her blood ran cold. “Do you know who they are?”
“I know enough.”
“Did you work with them?” she asked quietly.
His eyes snapped to hers—sharp, warning, unreadable.
“That’s not a question you’re ready to ask,” he said.
Not an answer.
Not a denial.
Her heartbeat pounded painfully.
“What am I supposed to do here, Mr. Rhodes?”
“Call me Adrian,” he said.
Her breath hitched.
“You will assist me. You’ll stay on this floor. You’ll keep a low profile. And you will never—under any circumstances—be alone without telling me.”
Her brows drew together. “Why? Do you think someone is looking for me?”
“I know someone is.”
His certainty made her skin crawl.
“Why do you care so much?” she whispered. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” he repeated, softer now. “More than you think.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to,” he said. “Not yet.”
He walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small access card.
“This is your floor pass. Only a few people have clearance to this level. Never lose it.”
He stepped close again, placing the card in her hand. His fingers brushed hers—just a whisper of contact—but it felt like a spark raced through her skin.
She pulled her hand away too quickly, startled by the sensation.
Adrian noticed.
He held her gaze for a long moment.
Then, quietly, he said, “You’re not remembering. But your body remembers.”
The air between them froze.
“What does that mean?” she whispered.
He turned away, refusing to answer.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Only the distant hum of Lagos below filled the space.
Then Adrian said, “Your office is next to mine. Go there. I’ll send you your first task.”
Amara rose slowly, her legs unsteady.
As she reached the door, Adrian’s voice called out softly, almost vulnerable:
“And Amara?”
She turned.
His eyes were dark, unreadable, wounded.
“Don’t go anywhere alone,” he said. “Not yet.”
“Why?” she whispered.
Adrian’s expression tightened.
“Because the last time you disappeared…”
His voice broke slightly.
“…I thought I’d never find you again.”
Her stomach flipped violently.
“Do you… know who I used to be?”
A long silence.
Then:
“Yes,” Adrian said.
“And when the time is right… I’ll tell you.”
Amara’s breath caught.
“But for now,” he said, “I need you to trust me.”
Trust him?
She wasn’t sure she trusted herself.
But as she stepped into her new office, one truth lingered in her mind, heavy and terrifying:
Adrian Rhodes knew her.
Knew her past.
Knew the truth she had forgotten.
And he wasn’t ready to let her go again.
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