Linger in My Heart

The glass doors of Hayes Architectural Group loomed before Olivia Carter like a doorway to her past. Ten years had changed the building into something grander, sleeker—much like the man who owned it. Her fingers tightened around her leather portfolio as she caught her reflection in the polished surface: chestnut hair swept into a perfect bun, tailored black blazer, and eyes that couldn't quite hide her nerves. "Welcome to Hayes Architectural Group," the receptionist chirped. "Do you have an appointment?" "Olivia Carter for the ten o'clock meeting." Her voice came out steadier than she felt. "Of course, Ms. Carter! Mr. Hayes is expecting you." Of course he is, Olivia thought. After all, he'd orchestrated this whole thing, hadn't he? The "mandatory consultation" between Hayes Architectural Group and Luxe & Life magazine was just another power play in his world of steel and glass. The elevator ride to the 47th floor gave her too much time to think. Last time she'd seen Ethan, they'd been young, drunk on dreams and each other. Now she was EditorinChief of Luxe & Life, and he... well, his face graced every business magazine in the country. The elevator chimed, and Olivia stepped into a world of modern luxury. Floortoceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of Manhattan, but she barely noticed. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she followed a young assistant down the hallway. "Right this way, Ms. Carter." The assistant pushed open heavy double doors. "Mr. Hayes will be with you shortly." The conference room was empty, giving Olivia a moment to breathe. She chose a seat facing the door—she refused to let him catch her off guard. Spreading her materials across the glossy table, she tried to focus on work, on the reason she was here. Luxe & Life needed this architectural feature, and Hayes Architectural Group was the best. That's all this was. Business. The door opened. Time didn't just stop—it shattered. Ethan Hayes filled the doorway like a force of nature. Gone was the hungry young architect she'd known; in his place stood someone who commanded attention without trying. His dark hair was shorter now, styled in that carefully messy way that probably cost more than her first car. The suit he wore wasn't just expensive—it was a weapon, perfectly tailored to emphasize broad shoulders and lean muscle. But his eyes... those stormy blue eyes hadn't changed. "Ms. Carter," he said, voice carefully neutral. "Welcome back." Something flickered in his gaze—a spark of recognition, of memory, of things better left buried. Olivia gripped her pen tighter. "Mr. Hayes." She met his eyes steadily. "Thank you for meeting with me." He moved into the room with that fluid grace she remembered too well, settling into the chair directly across from her. The space between them felt charged, like the air before a storm. "I have to admit," he said, "when my assistant told me Luxe & Life wanted to feature Hayes Architectural Group, I was... intrigued." His lips curved slightly. "Especially when I heard who their EditorinChief was." "We feature the best," Olivia replied smoothly. "Your recent sustainability project caught our attention." "Did it?" He leaned back, studying her. "Nothing to do with our history, then?" The question hung in the air like smoke. Olivia's carefully constructed walls trembled. "Ancient history," she corrected, pulling out her tablet. "Shall we discuss the feature?" Something darkened in his eyes. "Ancient? Ten years isn't so long, Liv." The old nickname hit her like a physical blow. "It's Olivia," she said sharply. "And I'd prefer to keep this professional." "Professional," he repeated, as if tasting the word. "Like you kept it professional when you disappeared without a word?" Anger flared in her chest. "That's not—" The door opened again, cutting off her response. A tall blonde woman entered, her beauty as precisely calculated as a mathematical equation. "Ethan, darling," she purred, "I hope I'm not interrupting?" Olivia watched as the woman's groomed hand settled possessively on Ethan's shoulder. Her expensive dress probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, and her smile held all the warmth of an ice sculpture. "Victoria," Ethan admitted, but his eyes never left Olivia's face. "You remember Olivia Carter?" Victoria's smile sharpened. "Of course. The girl who ran away." She extended her hand across the table. "Victoria Lane, Head of PR for Hayes Architectural Group. And Ethan's... close friend." The emphasis wasn't subtle. Neither was the massive diamond ring glinting on her right hand—not an engagement ring, Olivia noticed, but positioned to make people look twice. "Charmed," Olivia said, shaking her hand briefly. "Now, about the feature—" "Oh, you simply must let me handle the PR angle," Victoria interrupted, sliding into the chair beside Ethan. "We'll want to coordinate everything carefully. Especially given the... delicate timing." "Delicate timing?" Olivia asked before she could stop herself. Victoria's smile turned triumphant. "You haven't told her, darling?" She squeezed Ethan's arm. "The Hayes family trust? The deadline?" Ethan's jaw tightened. "Victoria—" "We wouldn't want any... complications with the feature," Victoria continued sweetly. "Especially not with your grandfather's conditions about marriage and company control." The word "marriage" hit Olivia like a bucket of ice water. She looked at Ethan, really looked at him, and saw something she'd missed before: tension. It radiated from his shoulders, lurked behind his eyes. "I think," Ethan said quietly, "we should discuss the feature another time." He stood abruptly. "My assistant will reschedule." "But darling—" Victoria started. "Another time," he repeated firmly. His eyes locked with Olivia's. "We have other matters to discuss first." The weight of unspoken words pressed against Olivia's chest. She gathered her materials with steady hands, refusing to let them see how shaken she felt. "I'll have my office contact yours," she said professionally, standing to leave. She was almost to the door when Ethan spoke again. "Liv." She paused, hand on the doorknob, but didn't turn. "Some ghosts," he said softly, "refuse to stay buried." Olivia pushed through the door, her heels clicking rapidly against marble floors as she fled to the elevator. Only when the doors closed did she let out a shaky breath. Her phone buzzed with a text. Unknown number. Dinner. Tonight. We need to talk about the trust. E Below it, an address to one of the most exclusive restaurants in Manhattan. And Liv? Come alone. The elevator descended, but Olivia's heart stayed somewhere on the 47th floor, trapped in stormy blue eyes and memories she thought she'd buried years ago. She had a feeling this was just the beginning. "Ghosts," she whispered to her reflection in the elevator's mirrored walls. "If only that's all they were." But ghosts didn't make your heart race. Ghosts didn't look at you like they could still see straight into your soul. And ghosts certainly didn't text you dinner invitations that felt more like threats. Or promises. The elevator doors opened to the lobby, and Olivia stepped out into the New York sunshine. Behind her, Hayes Architectural Group reached into the sky like a modern tower of Babel. Like its owner, it cast a long shadow. One she wasn't sure she could escape this time.