CEO IN MY BED

The first thing Isabella Hart noticed was the silence. It wasn't the familiar silence of her tiny apartment, where the old ceiling fan hummed lazily and the sounds of traffic drifted through cracked windows. This silence was different—soft, luxurious, interrupted only by the faint hum of an air-conditioning system she was certain cost more than her monthly rent. Her brows knitted together as she slowly opened her eyes. Sunlight spilled through floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the room in a warm golden glow. White curtains swayed gently with the morning breeze, revealing a breathtaking view of Ravenport's glittering skyline. Marble walls, elegant paintings, and an enormous crystal chandelier made the bedroom look more like a presidential suite than anywhere a normal person could ever afford. She blinked several times. "This... isn't my room." A dull headache pulsed behind her temples. She lifted a hand to massage her forehead, only to realize she was wearing an oversized white dress shirt. It smelled faintly of cedarwood and expensive cologne. Her heart skipped. She sat up too quickly, causing the room to spin. "Easy," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut until the dizziness passed. When she looked down, her midnight-blue evening gown—the one she had worn to the charity gala—lay crumpled on the polished wooden floor beside a pair of black men's shoes. Her silver heels rested nearby, one upright and the other on its side as if kicked off in a hurry. A strange feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. No... Slowly... Almost afraid of what she would find... She turned her head. A man lay asleep beside her. He looked peaceful, one arm resting above his head, the morning sunlight highlighting his sharp features. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and the white duvet covered him only from the waist down, revealing broad shoulders and a muscular chest. He was undeniably handsome. Too handsome. And she had absolutely no idea who he was. Her breath caught in her throat. "Oh... my God." She pulled the blanket closer to herself, her mind racing. Think, Isabella. Think. She searched her memory desperately. The charity gala. Tessa convincing her to attend. The elegant ballroom. Music. Champagne. Someone making a toast. Laughter. A dance... Then... Nothing. The memories dissolved into scattered flashes. A warm smile. Gray eyes. The sound of rain outside. Someone placing a suit jacket around her shoulders. A black luxury car. Then complete darkness. "No, no, no..." She pressed her palms against her temples. "This can't be happening." As if hearing her whisper, the man shifted. His gray eyes slowly opened. For a moment, neither of them spoke. He looked as confused as she felt. His gaze moved from her face to the unfamiliar room, then to the shirt she was wearing before finally settling on the crumpled clothes scattered across the floor. His expression changed from confusion to quiet realization. "You..." His voice was low and rough from sleep. "You're awake." Isabella stared at him. "You don't... know me?" He frowned. "I was about to ask you the same question." Silence. Long. Uncomfortable. Neither knew what to say. Finally Isabella swallowed. "Do you remember last night?" He closed his eyes briefly as if trying to force memories back into place. "I remember attending the Kingsley Foundation Charity Gala." "So did I." "I remember a business partner insisting we celebrate." "I remember my best friend insisting I stop being boring for one night." A tiny smile touched the corner of his lips. "Did she succeed?" She sighed. "Apparently." He looked around again. "I don't remember coming here." "Neither do I." Another silence followed. The realization settled between them like an invisible weight. Neither of them remembered how they ended up in the same bed. Neither remembered what had happened after leaving the gala. Isabella's face burned with embarrassment. "I usually don't drink." "So do I." She looked at him skeptically. "You don't?" "No." "Then why were you drinking?" He paused before answering. "I suppose... I wanted one evening without responsibility." She nodded slowly. "I know that feeling." For the first time, they looked at each other not as strangers caught in an awkward situation but as two exhausted people who had made one terrible mistake. Or so they believed. --- Across the city... Inside a black SUV parked beneath an abandoned warehouse, a man wearing leather gloves stared at a laptop screen. Several surveillance videos played simultaneously. One showed the charity gala ballroom. Another showed the hotel entrance. A third... Displayed only static. He smiled coldly. "Erase everything." The technician beside him hesitated. "Sir... are you sure?" "The less they remember..." He leaned back. "...the better." Within seconds, one full hour of surveillance footage disappeared forever. --- Back inside the penthouse... The stranger sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is... awkward." "You think?" Despite everything, he chuckled softly. "I'm trying to make the situation less uncomfortable." "It isn't working." He laughed again. It was warm. Unexpected. Different from the serious expression he naturally carried. Somehow it made Isabella relax. A little. "My name—" Before he could finish, his phone began vibrating violently on the bedside table. The screen lit up with dozens of missed calls. Thirty-seven. Twenty-one unread messages. He frowned. "That can't be good." The phone rang again. He ignored it. "It seems important," Isabella said. "It can wait." "No." She shook her head. "It shouldn't." He looked at her for several seconds. Then nodded. "I'll answer after we talk." She climbed out of bed. "I don't think we need to." He stood as well. "You're leaving?" "I think that's for the best." She picked up her dress and disappeared into the spacious bathroom. Several minutes later she emerged, dressed once again in her wrinkled evening gown. She looked toward the floor. "I'm missing an earring." Without a word, he bent down beside the bed. "There." He picked up a small silver earring hidden beneath the bedside table. She accepted it with a grateful smile. "Thank you." Their fingers brushed for only a second. Yet both felt it. An unfamiliar spark. Almost electric. They quickly pulled away. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For what?" "If something happened last night..." He hesitated. "...I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable." She looked into his eyes. There wasn't arrogance. There wasn't entitlement. Only genuine concern. It surprised her. "No." She answered honestly. "I don't remember much... but I don't think you hurt me." Relief crossed his face. "Good." She slung her purse over her shoulder. "I think it's better if we forget this ever happened." "You don't even want to know my name?" She paused. Just for a moment. Part of her wanted to know. Part of her wanted to ask who he was. Why someone like him seemed strangely familiar. Why she felt safe around someone she'd supposedly met only once. Instead she smiled sadly. "If we don't know each other's names..." "It'll be easier to move on." He studied her face. "And if we meet again?" She laughed softly. "I doubt fate is that creative." He almost smiled. "You'd be surprised." She walked toward the bedroom door. Before opening it, she turned around. "I hope..." She searched for the right words. "...whatever you're dealing with..." His expression shifted. "...works out." Then she left. --- The bedroom door clicked shut. The man remained standing in silence. For years, women had chased him. Asked for his number. Asked for photographs. Asked for favors. This woman... Didn't even ask his name. Something about that unsettled him. His phone rang again. This time he answered. "Ethan." A panicked voice exploded through the speaker. "Sir! Where have you been? The board has been searching for you all morning!" "I'm fine." "Thank goodness." "There has been a security issue." His expression sharpened instantly. "What happened?" "Someone tampered with the surveillance system at the charity gala." His grip tightened on the phone. "What do you mean?" "Exactly one hour of footage disappeared." A cold silence filled the room. One hour. The very same hour neither he nor the mysterious woman could remember. He walked toward the window. "Ethan." "Yes, sir?" "Don't tell anyone." "Sir?" "Find out who erased it." --- Outside the penthouse... Isabella stepped into the elevator and leaned against the mirrored wall. Her reflection stared back at her. She looked exhausted. Embarrassed. Confused. "This never happened," she whispered to herself. She didn't notice the security camera in the elevator. Nor did she notice the man in a black cap watching the monitor from another room. He smiled as she disappeared from view. Then he picked up his phone. "It's done." A voice answered from the other end. "Good." "Let them believe it was a mistake." The call ended. Neither Adrian nor Isabella knew it yet. The night they couldn't remember... Had never been an accident. It was the opening move in a dangerous game that had begun years before either of them met.