One Night, Wrong Man

Chapter 7 — Back To Reality

*POV Derby*

Monday arrived far too soon. The weekend felt like it had ended in the middle of a sentence, and reality wasn't interested in giving me more time.

My alarm exploded at six-thirty, dragging me out of restless sleep before I was ready to face the day, filled with dark eyes and warm hands on my skin. I rubbed a hand over my face, hoping the memories would fade with the sleep. They didn't. Jordan still lingered in the back of my mind as though he'd never really left that hotel room.

I reached blindly for my phone, silencing the alarm with more force than necessary before burying my face back into the pillow for one useless second.

My body still carried faint echoes from the weekend—sore muscles, a small bruise on my hip, the ghost of stubble against my neck. Every small movement seemed to pull another memory to the surface before I could push it away., More than anything, I remembered the way he'd looked at me, as though I wasn't someone he planned to forget by morning.

I shoved the memories aside before they could settle. I had work to get through, and there was no room for any of this.

The rest of the morning unfolded on autopilot. Shower. Coffee. Makeup. Clothes sharp enough to pass for confidence. I buttoned up my blouse like I was putting on armor instead of getting dressed.. If I kept moving, maybe my mind wouldn't have the chance to wander back to him. Even so, one name kept slipping back into my thoughts. Vasquez. At the first red light on the drive in, I blocked Rian's number. By the time I parked, every photo of us was gone too. That chapter was over. Him. Jordan. The entire weekend. I refused to let any of it follow me into Monday. It was one night. Nothing more. That's what I kept telling myself

The office was already alive by the time I walked in. Phones ringing. The familiar hum of fluorescent lights and clattering keyboards wrapped around me like every other Monday. The smell of cheap coffee and printer ink filled the air. I slipped on the same polite smile I wore every morning and headed toward my desk

Lisa looked up the second I walked past her desk, coffee mug halfway to her lips. "Morning, Derby." Her eyes narrowed. "You look... tired.". A teasing grin spread across her face. "Don't tell me you actually had a life this weekend?"

I forced out a small laugh, hoping it sounded more convincing than it felt. "Couldn't sleep," I lied easily. "Ready for the meeting?"

The morning disappeared beneath a pile of deadlines before I had time to think twice One report turned into three. Emails kept piling up, and the client call stretched twenty minutes longer than anyone wanted. For a while, it actually worked. I almost convinced myself the weekend had stayed where it belonged. Then the smallest pause was enough for my mind to betray me again.. The way Jordan’s fingers had brushed mine when he took my glass. The heat of his body pressed against me. The calm way he’d asked if I was okay even after everything.

**I forced my eyes back to the spreadsheet. Stop thinking about him, I ordered myself. He's a stranger. Leave him there."

Before I knew it, lunchtime had come and gone without me leaving my desk.. I picked at a sandwich with one hand while answering emails with the other, barely tasting a bite. Just as I was about to close my inbox, a notification flashed across my monitor. The familiar company alert sound made me glance up automatically.

The subject line froze me in place. **New Project Briefing – Vasquez Group Partnership.**

My fingers stopped above the keyboard before I even realized I'd quit typing. One word was enough to pull every memory from the weekend rushing back. Vasquez. stared back at me. Coincidence. It had to be. It had to be a coincidence. Vasquez wasn't exactly an impossible last name. There were probably plenty of them in this city. I clung to that thought while opening the attachment, almost afraid of what I'd find.

The briefing was set for nine o'clock the next morning. High-profile client. Everything about the file screamed important. High-priority client. Executive-level meeting. My eyes skipped past the project details until they landed on the final line.

**Jordan Vasquez.**

For a second, I forgot how to breathe. I stared at the screen until the letters blurred. There was no way I was reading it wrong. The stranger from Saturday night wasn't just a stranger anymore. He was tomorrow's client. The memories returned all at once, vivid enough that I had to grip the edge of my desk to stay grounded.

I closed the email. My hands were cold. This couldn’t be happening. The universe wasn’t cruel enough to throw him back into my life like this. Not when I was still trying to forget the way he’d made me feel safe for one night.

The rest of the afternoon dragged. I smiled through another meeting, nodded at updates, answered questions on autopilot. Inside, my stomach twisted. Every time I blinked I saw him sitting on that bed, shirt open, watching me leave without trying to stop me.

By the time I got home, exhaustion weighed on my shoulders. I kicked off my shoes, poured a glass of water, and stood at the kitchen counter staring at nothing. The apartment felt too quiet. Too empty. My phone sat on the table, silent. No messages from Rian. No unknown numbers. Just me and the memory of dark eyes and a name that now felt like a trap.

I told myself it was nothing. Just a coincidence. I’d go to the meeting, stay professional, and never speak of that night again. Jordan probably wouldn’t even remember me. Or if he did, he’d act like nothing happened.

But deep down, something told me that wasn’t true.

The name Vasquez kept echoing in my head long after I turned off the lights. Sleep refused to come easily. Somehow I already knew tomorrow wouldn't just reopen an old memory. It was about to change everything.

**To be continued...**