Chapter Two :The Reunion
667 Words
The city skyline stretched like a blade across the horizon — sleek, cold, untouchable. Selena Hart stood in the lobby of Alaric Towers, her fingers gripping the handle of her portfolio bag so tightly her knuckles turned white.
She hadn’t expected this. Not today. Not ever.
But there his name was, in gold lettering on the wall. Alaric Industries.
The building was everything he’d once described as a boy — glass, steel, the scent of money in the air. It was like walking into a memory she’d tried hard to forget.
When the receptionist called out, “Mr. Alaric will see you now,” her heart sank to her stomach.
She followed the assistant through sleek corridors and past tinted windows with views that made her feel small. Her heels clicked against polished marble. Her mouth was dry.
And then the door opened.
He was standing by the window, back turned, suit tailored to perfection. The Damian she remembered had tousled curls and dirt under his nails. This man looked like he belonged on the cover of a business magazine — because he did.
"You’re late," he said without turning around.
Her breath caught.
“Didn’t know punctuality mattered to you anymore,” she shot back before she could stop herself.
He turned.
Their eyes met.
And just like that, Halewick came flooding back — the dock, the kites, the way he used to look at her like she was the only thing in the world worth chasing.
But now… his gaze was guarded. Cool. Like he was assessing a stranger.
“Selena Hart,” he said slowly, like the name was unfamiliar. “You’ve changed.”
“So have you.”
He gestured to the seat across from his desk. “Sit.”
She did, her spine straight despite the nerves. She’d come here to pitch a corporate floral contract. She hadn’t known he was the CEO. And she certainly hadn’t prepared to see the boy she once loved staring at her like a ghost.
“You look…” he trailed off, then smirked. “Less stubborn than I remember.”
“And you look like someone who forgets the people who helped him get where he is.”
Silence stretched between them.
“I didn’t forget,” Damian said finally. “I left. That’s different.”
Selena laughed — bitter, quiet. “Funny. Feels the same from where I’m standing.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Why did you come here?”
“To work,” she said, lifting her chin. “Not to relive whatever this is.”
Another silence. Then, to her surprise, he chuckled.
“You still have that fire,” he said. “I wondered if time would dim it.”
“And I wondered if success would humble you.”
They stared at each other — enemies, old lovers, strangers wearing familiar skin.
Then Damian’s voice softened.
“You really never married?”
She stiffened. “No.”
His gaze flicked to her left hand — bare.
He nodded, slowly. “Good.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean,” he said, clearing his throat, “it would’ve been a shame. For someone else to take what I never deserved.”
Selena’s heart twisted.
“I didn’t come here for this, Damian.”
“Then why does it feel like you did?”
She stood. “Approve the proposal or don’t. But don’t dig up the past just to bury it again.”
He didn’t respond.
She turned to leave.
Then his voice stopped her.
“Wait.”
She froze.
“You’ll get the contract,” he said. “But you’ll work under me directly. One-on-one.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s inappropriate—”
“Not if we keep it professional.”
“You think we can?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
Because deep down, they both knew — nothing between them had ever been just professional.
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