Chapter Two
1834 Words
Alexandra
The bar Cassandra dragged me into was dim, warm and, thankfully, far more low-key than the crowded club she had originally suggested. The place hummed with soft bass, laughter wrapped in amber-colored lighting, and the faint scent of citrusy cocktails. If I squinted, it almost felt relaxing.
Almost.
“This is actually not bad,” Cassandra announced, already surveying the room like a talent scout. “See? I told you it would be mellow. No grinding crowds. No strobe lights. Just respectable levels of poor decision-making.”
I raised an eyebrow as I slid onto a stool. “Respectable? Since when is anything in here respectable?”
Cassandra tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “Since tonight is supposed to be your final night of freedom before corporate shackles claim your soul. So, yes, respectably irresponsible.”
I snorted. “You’re the worst hype-woman.”
“And yet you love me,” Cassandra said sweetly. She flagged the bartender down with alarming confidence for someone who had been here exactly thirteen seconds. “Two shots of tequila, please. Strong enough to stun a horse.”
I groaned. “Cass-”
“It’s tradition,” Cassandra reminded me, tapping the bar. “Every big milestone, we take shots. When I got into my internship with the Sterling Foundation? Shots. When you accidentally set the kitchen on fire trying to make pancakes? Shots.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You started that fire.”
“Semantics,” Cassandra said airily.
The bartender slid the shots over. Cassandra lifted hers.
“To new beginnings,” she toasted.
I exhaled slowly. New beginnings. I repeated the words in my mind, letting them settle between my ribs. In two days, I would start working at Kane Holdings under an assumed name. The idea of walking into my own company as a stranger made my stomach twist.
But after Cassandra’s carefully crafted letter of recommendation, the board meeting, and the arrangement with my father, there was no backing out. If I was going to take over as CEO officially, I needed firsthand experience in one of the most demanding departments.
Strategic Development.
Run by Nicholas Carter.
A man who, according to my father, was brilliant, precise, and relentlessly objective.
A man I hoped would never find out who I really was- not yet.
I clinked shot glasses with Cassandra. “To new beginnings.” Then I threw the tequila back, wincing as it scorched my throat. But the sting helped. It grounded me.
“One more,” Cassandra declared.
“Absolutely not.”
“One more,” Cassandra insisted, shrugging. “You’ll be fine, Lex. I know the curse makes these places… problematic. But nothing crazy is going to happen tonight.”
I tightened my grip on the edge of the bar.
Problematic was an understatement.
Bars meant strangers. And strangers meant risk.
And every reset from the curse left my body reeling: crushing migraines, energy drain, nausea that felt like a punishment.
A reminder of what I was.
A reminder of what I wasn’t allowed to have.
“I’ll try,” I finally said. “Just don’t abandon me.”
Cassandra grinned. “I won’t. I’m not taking my eyes off you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You say that every time.”
“And I mean it every time.”
Still, my gaze drifted across the room, scanning faces, letting myself breathe in the ambience. I would survive tonight. I always did.
Then I saw him.
A man at the far end of the bar.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair. Lean lines in a crisp charcoal shirt. Not overly polished, but not careless either. He had the kind of presence that commanded attention effortlessly- quietly, almost reluctantly. And he wasn’t looking around like everyone else. He sat like he was there for a purpose, for silence, not company.
He didn’t fit the dim, casual setting.
And yet he did.
Perfectly.
As if he could make any space feel intentional simply by existing in it.
I tried to look away.
I failed.
Because he was already looking at me.
Our eyes locked.
My pulse jolted.
His expression didn’t change, not noticeably. But there was something in his gaze. Something steady. Something assessing. Something that saw me too clearly.
Startled, I tore my gaze away.
Cassandra immediately followed my line of sight.
“Oh. Oh,” she whispered, sounding far too delighted. “You were staring.”
“I was not staring,” I argued weakly.
“You absolutely were.”
I cleared my throat. “He was staring first.”
“So he noticed you before you noticed him.” Cassandra gasped dramatically. “Fate? Destiny?"
“Cass, stop.”
“Oh please,” Cassandra said. “He’s hot. Like, professionally hot. Hot in a way that suggests he signs important documents and gives orders people don’t question.”
I choked on my second shot. “What does that even mean?”
“It means,” Cassandra said, nudging my elbow, “you should go talk to him.”
I put both palms flat on the bar. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She sighed dramatically. “Lex, I know the reset thing makes this scary. But honey, the guy will forget everything by tomorrow. You could commit social murder and he would wake up memory-wiped.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“Absolutely.” Cassandra pushed me lightly. “Go. Flirt. Live a little.”
I inhaled slowly. It was true. If I regretted anything- if I made a fool of myself- the reset would erase it. And I had spent so much of my adult life being cautious. Calculated. Controlled.
Maybe I deserved one night of harmless recklessness.
I swallowed. “Fine. But if it gets weird-”
“I will drag you out by the hair,” Cassandra vowed.
I laughed and slid off the stool. My steps were steady at first. Confidence blooming in the warmth of the alcohol. I moved through the low lights and soft bass until I stood a few feet from him.
Up close, he was even more striking.
A strong jaw. Subtle stubble. A gaze that felt like a quiet storm- intense but contained. Observing everything. Giving nothing.
He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look away either.
“Hi,” I said, trying to sound breezy. “I noticed you’ve been… noticing me.”
His lips twitched the slightest bit. “Hard not to.”
Oh.
Okay.
My heart skipped.
“Is that a line?” I asked.
“No.” His voice was smooth, controlled. “Just an observation.”
I swallowed. “You don’t exactly blend in.”
A faint huff of amusement. “Neither do you.”
I shifted my weight. “So… are you here alone?”
A beat of hesitation. “I am.”
His tone didn’t invite more. Didn’t shut me out either. Just… left space.
“Well,” I said, “if you’re open to company, I’m Lexi.”
His eyes flickered subtly. A tiny shift- interest? amusement? I couldn’t tell.
“Nicholas,” he said.
It suited him.
Sharp. Clean. No nonsense.
I smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
His gaze dipped- briefly- to my lips. Not overt. Not flirtatious. More like… evaluating.
My pulse fluttered.
He wasn’t a man who engaged easily. I could sense it. He was guarded. Contained. But he wasn’t indifferent, not exactly. Something simmered under the surface.
“Are you always this direct?” he asked.
“Only when I’m two shots in and my best friend is threatening bodily harm if I don’t talk to someone.”
Another faint twitch in the corner of his mouth.
I leaned lightly against the bar, playing with the edge of my glass.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the dim lights. Maybe it was his voice- a smooth, low timbre that scraped pleasantly down my spine.
But I felt like taking it further.
Just as I opened my mouth, I shifted my footing wrong- just slightly- and my heel slipped on the worn hardwood floor.
The world tilted.
“Oh-!”
I didn’t fall.
Nicholas’s hand closed around my waist, steadying me before I could hit the ground.
It wasn’t a dramatic catch. Just a firm, instinctive grip. But the heat of his hand startled me. The nearness of him-
My breath hitched.
He smelled clean. Sharp. Something earthy, something crisp.
I looked up.
He looked down.
For one suspended second, we were close. Much too close. Close enough to feel the warm brush of his breath. Close enough that if either of us leaned an inch-
The moment stretched.
Something in his eyes flickered. Not desire. Not exactly. More like restraint cracking around the edges.
My pulse rushed painfully loud.
But then-
His phone rang.
Sharp. Jarring. Shattering the moment.
Nicholas stiffened. He released me immediately and stepped back, expression closing off with startling speed.
“I need to take this,” he said, already reaching for his phone.
“Oh,” I said, forcing a smile. “Sure.”
He hesitated- not long enough to signify interest, but long enough to show conflict. Then he answered.
“Yes?” His tone dropped, cool, clipped.
He turned away as he spoke, walking toward the exit of the bar. His shoulders were tense. His jaw tight.
I watched the door for a moment.
Then another.
And another.
But he didn’t return.
Minutes ticked by.
Cassandra found me, tapping my arm. “He left?”
I shrugged lightly. “Probably had something important come up. It’s fine.”
Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “Lex…”
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “It’s better this way.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to know what’s going to happen.”
I exhaled. “I know.”
The reset always came. Always took.
Tomorrow, he would forget I existed. Forget the spark. Forget the chemistry. Forget the catch, the almost-moment, the entire night.
And I would wake up tired, headache pounding, vision foggy.
That was how it worked.
That was how it always worked.
“It’s nothing new,” I said quietly as we headed toward the exit. “I’ll survive. I always do.”
Cassandra didn’t look convinced.
---
I woke up slowly, sunlight painting soft gold across my bedroom walls.
I blinked.
Waited.
Listened.
No pounding headache.
No nausea.
No exhaustion weighing down my limbs like lead.
Nothing.
I sat up sharply, heart suddenly racing.
This wasn’t normal.
This wasn’t possible.
Every romantic reset came with symptoms. Every connection I’d ever formed- no matter how brief- had left my body reeling afterward.
Except today.
My hands trembled as I touched my forehead. No heat. No wooziness. Nothing.
“What…?” I breathed.
Something was wrong.
Or something was very, very right.
But either way-
Something about last night hadn’t reset.
And that made absolutely no sense.
- Writer
