Chapter Three
1519 Words
Alexandra
If hell had a lobby, it would look exactly like the marble entrance of Kane Holdings.
I stepped through the revolving doors Monday morning feeling like I’d swallowed a blender. My pulse beat like a hummingbird on caffeine, my palms were sweaty in the most unflattering way possible, and my brain kept replaying one single mantra on loop:
Don’t mess up. Don’t slip up. Don’t reveal anything. And for the love of corporate gods, do NOT let anyone figure out you own the building.
Easy.
No big deal.
Totally fine.
“Totally fine,” I muttered under my breath.
The receptionist gave me a look that said she assumed I was talking to her. I shot her a quick smile- the kind normal humans give, not the deranged grin currently trying to claw its way out of my face- and kept walking.
The elevators gleamed like judgmental silver monoliths. I jabbed the button for the 32nd floor, where the Strategic Development department lived and breathed spreadsheets for sport.
As soon as the doors closed, I let out the exhale I’d been holding since I stepped inside.
This was it. My first official day undercover as an employee of my own family’s company. Under a different name. With a forged recommendation letter from Cassandra. With exactly zero corporate experience besides absorbing things through osmosis while sitting near my dad’s office as a kid.
And I was supposed to be normal.
Totally normal.
Nothing suspicious here, folks- just a fresh-faced new hire with a fake last name.
If HR ever found out, I’d combust on the spot.
The elevator chimed open, and I stepped out into a long corridor buzzing with soft conversation, muted footsteps, and the quiet clicking of keyboards.
Welcome to Strategic Development, I thought dramatically, imagining an invisible narrator announcing it in a deep movie-trailer voice.
I squared my shoulders, adjusted the strap of my bag, and walked into the department.
A woman with short auburn curls and a bright smile immediately turned toward me.
“You must be the new analyst!” she said, hurrying over. “Alexandra, right?”
I blinked, almost suspicious of the enthusiasm. “Uh-yes. That’s me.”
“Perfect! I’m Elise.” She stuck out her hand. “I volunteered to get you oriented today. We’re swamped, but I figured our newest team member shouldn’t feel like she’s wandering into a labyrinth.”
Relief washed through me so fast I nearly sagged.
“Thank you,” I said. “Honestly. I was afraid I’d have to figure things out by following the smell of burnt coffee.”
Elise laughed. “Oh, that’ll still help, but I’ll give you the official tour too.”
She launched into motion instantly, sweeping me down aisles of desks, introducing me to people whose names I immediately forgot, telling me where to find snacks (“but avoid the banana muffins unless you enjoy regret”), and pointing out every printer with the solemnity of someone giving a security briefing.
“And this,” she said with flourish, “is the war room. Also known as the brainstorming room. Also known as the place where we lose our sanity every Wednesday.”
“Noted,” I said, nodding sagely.
We kept walking, and soon she gestured ahead. “And that… is our supervisor, Mr. Carter.”
I followed her gaze-
—and the universe sucker-punched me.
Nicholas stood in front of the glass-walled conference room, reviewing a tablet with the same focused intensity he’d had at the bar. The charcoal shirt was gone, replaced by a crisp, grey button-up. His hair was neater. His posture sharper.
But his presence?
Oh. Oh, it was the same.
A quiet, contained storm.
I froze mid-step, heat sweeping through my body with humiliating speed.
No. Nope. No way.
Fate wouldn’t do this to me. My curse wouldn’t do this to me. The universe wouldn’t throw him at me on my first day.
He had forgotten me. He should have forgotten me.
Cassandra’s voice echoed in my head: "He won’t remember. He never will. That’s the point."
Elise was still talking, oblivious to the way my soul had detached from my body.
“He’s extremely smart,” she said. “Kind of intimidating at first, but fair. Very results-oriented. And don’t worry, he rarely yells. Disappointment is more his style.”
I was too busy panicking to fully process that.
As if sensing eyes on him, Nicholas turned-
—and our gazes collided.
He stopped walking.
Just stopped.
His brows drew together slightly. Confusion tightened his posture. Recognition flickered- too strong, too sharp, too real for someone under the effects of a supernatural memory wipe.
My stomach flipped.
No.
No no no no.
You’re not allowed to remember me.
You’re not supposed to remember me.
“You okay?” Elise whispered, noticing my stiffness.
Before I could answer, she added quietly, “Oh. Don’t worry- he’s probably just trying to figure out who you are. You’re the new hire, after all.”
Nicholas’s eyes didn’t leave mine.
I smiled weakly.
He didn’t smile back.
Instead, with a controlled inhale, he said, “Alexandra?”
His voice was smooth. Cool. But something underneath cracked like thin ice.
Every neuron in my brain screamed. Act natural. Act normal. Act like you didn’t accidentally almost kiss this man at a bar two nights ago.
“Yes,” I managed. “Good morning.”
Elise jumped in quickly, misinterpreting his expression. “Oh! She’s the new analyst joining the department today. The recommendation letter came through Ms. Hale- you know, from R&D?”
Nicholas’s brow shifted slightly, as if storing the explanation, but his gaze didn’t soften. If anything, he looked even more thrown.
“Come to my office,” he said finally. Not a question. Not an invitation. An order.
My breath caught.
Elise gave me an encouraging nudge. “You’ll be fine. He always does a quick one-on-one with new hires.”
I doubted this had anything to do with onboarding.
Nicholas turned and walked away. I forced my legs to function and followed him down the hall.
His office was minimalist, immaculate, and somehow colder than the air-conditioning. He closed the door behind us, and the faint click felt like a sentence.
I stood awkwardly near the chair across from his desk. He didn’t tell me to sit.
He set his tablet down and looked at me fully. Direct. Sharp. Assessing with the precision of a man accustomed to dissecting problems until they had nowhere to hide.
“You’re starting here today,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” I replied, forcing my voice steady.
“I see.”
Silence stretched—taut and uncomfortable.
I tried, “I look forward to- ”
“Do you,” he cut in.
Not a question. Just cool skepticism.
My heart thudded uneasily.
He stepped closer- not enough to crowd me, but enough to make the room feel smaller. “You approached me at a bar Saturday night.”
My pulse skyrocketed.
“I-yes, but- ”
“Let me guess,” he continued, tone flattening, “you thought it might give you an advantage. Starting here. Being on my good side.”
The words hit me like a slap.
A cold, sharp breath spilled from my lungs. “What? No-no, it wasn’t like that.”
He crossed his arms slowly. “Then what was it, Alexandra?”
I stared at him, throat tight.
This wasn’t possible.
He wasn’t supposed to remember. None of them ever remembered. My curse reset every romantic encounter. Always.
Except-
Except he did.
Not only did he remember… he assumed the worst.
I swallowed hard. “It wasn’t intentional. I had no idea you worked here.”
His jaw flexed once. “Convenient.”
Anger flared hot in my chest. Insult. Embarrassment. Confusion. All tangled.
“I’m not trying to get on your good side,” I snapped softly. “I don’t need to manipulate my way into this job.”
His gaze sharpened. “Then prove that. Earn your place here, like everyone else.”
He moved behind his desk, opened a folder, and slid a stack of documents toward me.
“This is your first assignment. Due by the end of the week.”
I stared at the papers, then at him.
He wasn’t bluffing.
He remembered me. The bar. The moment. The almost-kiss.
And he thought I’d done it deliberately.
For leverage.
Humiliation scorched my skin. But underneath it pulsed something worse- raw, spiraling disbelief.
Why?
Why didn’t the reset work on him?
Why was he the exception?
I picked up the file mechanically. My voice felt distant when I spoke. “Understood.”
Nicholas nodded once, dismissing me. “Good. You may go.”
I turned to leave, my heartbeat a panicked drumline in my ears, every step heavy with dawning realization.
My curse had never failed.
Not once.
Until him.
And as I walked out of his office, one truth echoed louder than all the rest:
Something about Nicholas Carter didn’t reset.
- Writer
