Chapter three: Unfinished business
1218 Words
Jason’s POV
Three days.
Seventy-two hours.
Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes.
That’s how long it had been since she left.
Jason leaned back in his chair, fingers slack around the Montblanc pen he hadn’t used in hours. His gaze drifted toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the Manhattan skyline like a living postcard. On any other day, this view grounded him. Reminded him of how far he’d come. The power he wielded, the empire he’d built from the ground up.
But not today.
Today, the city looked distant. Cold. Unmoving.
The same way he felt inside.
He hadn’t been himself since that night.
Since her.
He didn’t even know her name.
One night. One damn night, and she’d imprinted herself into his mind like a memory he couldn’t shake. Her laugh soft, rare, unguarded still echoed in his head, rising above the muted hum of the rooftop bar, above the crackle of vinyl and champagne flutes, above the silence of his own disbelief.
He hadn’t planned for it to mean anything. Hell, he didn’t even do emotional entanglements. He had rules for a reason. Boundaries. Protocols. But she… she’d slipped past all of it with one touch, one look, one broken inhale in the dark.
And now she was gone.
She’d disappeared before dawn, like smoke curling through his fingers. Silent. Untraceable. The only evidence that she’d even existed was the faint indentation in the pillow beside his and the lingering scent on the sheets vanilla, maybe lavender, or something sweet and hard to define.
Something hers.
Jason closed his eyes and leaned forward, elbows on the sleek edge of his mahogany desk. The memory was sharp enough to ache. He could still feel the warmth of her skin under his palms. The way she’d shivered when he whispered in her ear. The way her fingers had trembled half hesitation, half hunger as if touching him came with consequences she wasn’t ready for.
She’d curled into him, just for a moment. Like someone who didn’t want to be alone, not really. Not that night.
And then she’d vanished.
He wasn’t used to this. Wasn’t used to feeling anything after a one-night stand. Most mornings, he woke with indifference. Polite detachment. Sometimes a vague sense of relief.
But now? His chest felt tight with something dangerously close to regret.
The reports on his desk blurred into the background. Contracts. Deals. Acquisition paperwork from companies worth millions. Normally, he’d tear through them in an hour. Today, he hadn’t even opened a single file.
Because every time he tried to focus, her face pushed its way forward.
Her eyes wide and uncertain, like she wasn’t sure if she should be there.
Her voice barely above a whisper when she asked him if it was a mistake.
And the way she’d said his name, soft and breathless, like it meant something more.
Then silence.
His jaw clenched, muscles ticking under the weight of emotion he couldn’t name. The pen in his hand cracked slightly under the pressure of his grip.
“Still distracted?” came a familiar voice, casual and uninvited.
Zane.
Jason didn’t look up.
His best friend and unfortunately, his assistant in everything except paperwork strode in with a smug grin and a venti iced coffee in hand. He flopped down in the leather chair across from Jason, completely unbothered by the tension in the air.
“You’ve got that look again,” Zane said. “Like someone ran over your dog and then reversed.”
Jason exhaled, long and sharp. “Don’t start.”
Zane sipped his coffee. “Let me guess. It’s about her.”
Jason froze.
Zane’s grin widened. “Knew it.”
Jason finally looked at him, eyes dark. “She left without a word.”
“No number? No thanks for the earth-shattering s*x’? No cute post-it on the fridge?”
“Nothing.”
Zane let out a low whistle and shook his head. “Damn. She you’d you.”
Jason didn’t answer.
Silence fell between them, laced with the hum of city traffic and the subtle tension of something unfinished.
Zane leaned forward, more serious now. “You want to talk about it?”
Jason stared down at his hands. “I don’t even know her name. I don’t know where she went. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.”
“But you want to.”
It wasn’t a question.
Jason said nothing.
Because, yes. He did. He wanted to see her again. Talk to her. Find out who she really was. Why she touched something in him that hadn’t been touched in years if ever.
Most women came to him with expectations. Agendas. Or worse, wide eyes and gold-digger smiles.
But her?
She didn’t want anything from him.
Not even his name.
She just wanted that one night. A memory. Maybe a mistake.
And it wrecked him.
“She wasn’t like the others,” Jason said finally, voice low.
Zane studied him. “You’ve had your share of ‘not like the others,’ man.”
“No.” Jason met his gaze. “She was different. She looked at me like I wasn’t… him. Not Jason Smith. Not the CEO. Just… a man. A stranger.”
Zane let out a slow breath. “That’s rare.”
Jason nodded. “I can’t let it go. I’ve tried.”
There was a long pause. Then he added, almost reluctantly, “There might be one thing.”
Zane perked up. “A clue?”
Jason closed his eyes, reaching for the image. It came fast, sharp, burned into his memory. “She wore a bracelet. Silver. Thin. Crescent moon charm.”
Zane blinked. “That’s poetic.”
“It looked old,” Jason continued, ignoring the jab. “Sentimental. Worn at the edges.”
Zane leaned back, thoughtful. “Could be custom. Family heirloom. Might be traceable.”
Jason grabbed his phone and typed something quickly. “Get Helena on this. I want a list of boutique jewelers in Manhattan. Anyone selling or custom-making moon charm bracelets in the last five years. Start with small shops. Independents. Forget the chains.”
Zane’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re really going to track her down with a bracelet?”
Jason’s voice was cold steel. “If it’s the only thread I’ve got, I’ll pull it.”
Zane stood, stretching with a yawn. “Well, when you’re done turning into a romantic detective, don’t forget we’ve got the Stonebridge meeting tomorrow. Eleven sharp.”
Jason nodded absently.
Zane paused at the door. “For a guy who doesn’t do attachments… this is starting to look a lot like obsession.”
Jason didn’t argue.
Because maybe it was.
And maybe that was the scariest part.
He had built his life around logic. Strategy. Discipline. Everything he touched turned to profit. Everything he loved he kept at arm’s length.
But this?
This wasn’t control.
This was chaos wearing a perfume he couldn’t forget.
Zane lingered for one last beat. “Maybe obsession’s not such a bad thing… if it leads to something real.”
Then the door clicked shut behind him.
Jason sat in silence, fingers absently drumming the desk.
He didn’t know her name.
But he would find her.
Even if it took everything he had.
- Writer
