Tangled between the Two Billionaires

Chapter 2: It Starts off easy…… Almost

"Adam?"

My voice cracked the second I said his name.

"Yeah," he said, quietly. "It's... it's been a while."

I sat up in bed, heart thudding, and I was now suddenly aware of my heavy breathing.

The glow of the streetlamp outside made my room feel smaller, like my past had squeezed itself through the phone and into the space with me.

"I didn't expect to hear from you," I said, trying to steady my voice.

"I know. I wasn't sure if I should call. But... I saw you today."

I froze. "What?"

"At the supermarket. You were walking out. I don't think you saw me."

A memory flickered through my mind. Someone bumping into me, a flash of someone familiar I'd ignored in my rush. That was him?

"I didn't think it was really you until later," he continued. "I've been in town a few weeks now... for some work stuff. Look, I know it's late. I just—Happy Birthday, Liv."

I shut my eyes. Liv Say something! My subconscious yelled at me. Say anything!

But, my throat felt tight, like my past had tied a knot inside it.

"I almost didn't call," he added. "But I couldn't let today go by without saying something. You used to hate people forgetting."

I swallowed, a thousand thoughts clamoring for air. I didn't know if I wanted to cry or scream out at him. After dumping me over a text with no explanation years ago and ignoring my attempts to reach out to him, he suddenly remembered to call for my birthday.

"That was a long time ago," was the only thing I managed to say.

"I know," he said softly. "But I didn't forget."

The tense silence stretched between us.

"I should go," I finally said, my voice tight. "It's late."

"Yeah. Of course." He hesitated. "It was good to hear your voice."

The call ended and I dropped the phone onto the bedside.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at nothing, letting the silence swallow me.

I laid back down, one arm draped across my eyes as if that could block out the feelings.

The sting behind my eyes gave way, and the first tear rolled down my cheek.

Then another.

And another.

Until they came freely....silent, steady, unrelenting.

I lay there, feeling pathetic and exhausted from the tears, the memories, and the sharp sting of his voice. The drinks I'd had earlier dulled the ache just enough to pull me under.

Sleep didn't come peacefully, but it came.

***

I didn't remember falling asleep. Just waking up to the cruel glare of sunlight peeking past the curtains and the unmistakable sour taste of alcohol and regret on my tongue.

I groaned and rolled over, squeezing my eyes shut.

The alarm blared, cutting through the haze in my brain like a chainsaw. I slapped at it blindly until it stopped, then lay still, bargaining for just a few more minutes.

But the universe had other plans.

"You know what, Matt? Your lies are sickening. You're nothing but a two-timing, deceptive, unrepentant—"

"Two-timing, deceptive, unrepentant? Well, I guess that makes the two of us!"

There they were. My neighbors. Matt and his on-again, off-again girlfriend. Their fights had the timing of a Broadway show, always loud, dramatic and never with an intermission.

I groaned louder and pulled the blanket over my head. Not that it helped. With these paper-thin walls, I might as well have been in the room with them. Having front row seats at a play you never signed up to see, right up to their reconciliation. And oh, there was always reconciliation with these two. One that always led to make up s*x. Yes! A horror I was not about to sit back and listen in on.

"I'm done! I am done with your pathetic lying ass! Have fun! And don't come crawling back when karma crashes down on your stupid face!"

"Oh, good God," I muttered.

A crash. A door slam. Then silence. Briefly.

I sat up, too fast and the room spun, almost tipping me sideways off the bed. The whole event of yesterday replayed in my head, the sexy and mysterious stranger. That I kissed! The call from my ex, Adam. Lord, all of that chaos had to wait, I was back to my real life now. The life of a project manager.

And, speaking of chaos, my room was a total mess. The dress from the night before draped over my bed frame . Shoes flung in opposite directions. My bag lay on its side near the coffee table, its contents spilling onto the rug and somewhere underneath it all, my phone buzzed a dull, persistent vibration.

I went on all fours, pawing around until I found my phone, and blinked down at the screen.

9:30 AM. Twenty messages. Ten missed calls. All from Emilia, my best friend.

Panic hit me, like cold water. "s**t. The meeting."

I scrambled up, stumbling toward the bathroom. Shoved a toothbrush into my mouth, spit it out half-foamed, then sprinted back into the room to yank on the nearest pair of jeans and a blouse that didn't scream hungover disaster.

As I reached for my glasses, I knocked over a half-full can of Coke. It toppled in slow motion, splashing across the rug.

"Seriously?" I groaned. "I can't do this today."

Bag, phone, keys. I flung everything into my arms just as I bolted out the door, praying to the gods of transportation.

Reason Number 1, why I work so damn hard, is to finally be able to afford a decent ride for days particularly like this.

"C'mon, c'mon," I muttered, pacing the sidewalk. Every car on the road ignored me like I was part of the scenery.

"Need a ride?"

I spun to find Matt casually unlocking his bike, helmet in hand and a grin on his face.

"Yes, please!" I said, already rushing toward him.

He tossed me the spare helmet. "Hop on."

And I didn't hesitate.

***

The elevator ride was painfully slow. I watched the floor numbers tick upward, gripping my phone like it might anchor me. Emilia's name had lit up my screen with calls and texts all morning, but I hadn't answered. Not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't have the strength to explain. Not yet.

A small ding announced the elevator's arrival, and I rushed out, my heels striking the floor a little too loudly in the empty hallway, a sign that everyone was already in the meeting.

Great. Nothing like walking in late to a full room judgment.

I reached the glass doors of the conference room and hesitated, peering through. I could practically feel the sting of a hundred eyes turning on me if I walked in now. But I didn't have a choice. Taking a breath, I pushed the door open.

"Olivia, you're wearing sun glasses," Emilia whispered, wide-eyed as I slipped into the seat next to her.

"s**t," I muttered, yanking them off and stuffing them into my bag, realizing I'd left my glasses back at home. Title of the day, "Navigating through the day as blind as a bat."

"You look like hell," she replied, her hazel brown eyes assessing me.

"Thanks. That's exactly what I needed to hear."

Em and I had met in college when she led a protest against the campus's "no-shorts" policy, marching around in the shortest pair of ripped denim with a bold slogan on her shirt, "Death to the no shorts policy!"

It was like the universe really said, "We're bringing in the most dramatic being alive and making her one of the biggest part of your life." Seeing as, I was the complete opposite, reserved, focused on my degree and avoiding drama.

And Nine years later, she's still my best friend.

"Hangover?"

"Severe. Please whisper."

"Olivia," someone said sharply.

I looked up. Meghan. Of course, the office b***h who had a not so secret affair with, Robert Zane, the former CEO.

"Miss Easton, this is a company meeting, not a high school reunion," she said, her tone icy.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, my voice stiff with forced politeness. "It won't happen again."

She didn't linger, thankfully, moving right along with the agenda. But I barely heard a word. My headache had settled into a dull throb behind my eyes, and my thoughts were still wrapped around last night, the conversation with Adam.

Meghan stood.

"And now," she said with a bright, overly polished smile, "I'd like to introduce the person stepping in for Mr. Robert Zane. Please welcome his son and the acting CEO, Mr. Ethan Zane."

I froze.

It couldn't be—

Ethan, from The Dead Rabbit.

He looked different in the light of day, no leather jacket, no martini glass in his hand. Just a tailored charcoal suit and a composed face. Still devastatingly handsome. Still him.