Twisted Hearts

The downpour hammered Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue, turning rush hour into chaos. Elena Lin gripped her suitcase, patent-leather pumps slipping on wet pavement. Her midnight-blue dress, damp from the Tokyo flight, clung uncomfortably as she dodged taxis. “Miss Lin! Your cab!” Mia waved from under a tattered umbrella. A rusted sedan honked, splashing mud on Elena’s calves. She cursed silently—typical first day back. Before she could climb in, a sleek black SUV slid past. Tinted windows rolled down, revealing storm-gray eyes that froze her in place. Hawk Carter. “Elena. Still chasing cabs in designer dresses?” His smirk was infuriating, unchanged from the boy who’d tutored her in the Hamptons. Ten years had sharpened his features, but that voice—low, gravelly—still stirred something she’d buried. Mia coughed awkwardly. “Reschedule the board meeting?” “Absolutely not.” Elena locked eyes with Hawk. “What are you doing here? Stalking me, or just slumming?” His smile turned razor-sharp. “Heard about the Hudson bid. Cutting your vacation short, I see.” She stiffened. The Hudson Waterfront Hotel was her key to securing CEO at Lin Hospitality, a legacy she’d fought for since her mother’s stroke. Of course Hawk, now CEO of Carter Global, would interfere. “Stalking implies interest,” she snapped. “I thought Carter Global had better things than tailing rivals.” His gaze flicked to her suitcase. “Fortuitous meeting, then. I have a proposition—” “Save it. I don’t negotiate with pirates.” He laughed, a dangerous rumble. “Pirates? Last week it was ‘snake in a suit.’ Progress.” He leaned closer, cedar and rain clinging to him, dragging up memories of summer afternoons and stolen glances. “Remember trading cookies for physics answers? Or has that lifetime expired?” A flush crept up her neck. Don’t let him see it. “That was a decade ago.” She turned, heel catching—stumble—suitcase flying open. Lingerie, tea, a silk scarf spilled onto the sidewalk. Hawk knelt, lifting a lacy thong with a smirk. “Lingerie negotiations now?” “Give it back!” She snatched it, cheeks burning. As she stuffed belongings back, his gaze lingered on her neck, sending a shiver through her. “Tell your father hello,” she hissed. “I’m sure he’s thrilled you’re playing businessman.” His jaw tensed, a flicker of darkness. Bingo—his father, Richard Carter, was still a raw nerve, especially after her father’s “accidental” death at sea, right after outbidding Carter Global in Paris. “Careful, Elena. Wounds don’t heal with pretend.” Thunder roared. The taxi driver honked again. “Cab or not, lady?” “I’ll take it.” She avoided Hawk’s gaze, shoving the last item into her case. As she slid in, he leaned in, close enough to smell rain on his collar. “Check your email. Hudson’s west wing has structural flaws. Your board might prefer to hear it from me.” The door slammed. The taxi lurched forward, leaving Hawk smirking in the rain. Elena stared at the city blur, nails digging into her palm. Why warn her? He could’ve sunk her bid. Her phone pinged: an email from Hawk, titled For Old Times’ Sake. Attached: photos of cracked beams, rusted pipes, engineer reports. Details that could kill her bid—or save it. Lin Tower loomed ahead. She stepped out, ignoring the doorman’s umbrella, gaze fixed on the lit logo. Hawk wanted a war? Fine. But the scent of cedar lingered, haunting her with memories of a boy who’d once been her safe harbor. The elevator to the 32nd floor boardroom was silent, save for Mia’s typing. Elena checked her reflection—smudged makeup, damp hair. Professional enough, she lied to herself. Voices leaked from the boardroom. “—reckless, Gerald. She’s chasing a sinking ship.” Martin Bell, the CFO. Elena pushed in, smile icy. “Gentlemen. Apologies for the delay. Tokyo’s weather was… uncooperative.” Gerald Foster’s jowls twitched. “Lost on the way from the airport, Ms. Lin?” Chuckles rippled. She ignored them, pulling up Hawk’s photos on the screen. “Carter Global’s bid is flawed. Hudson’s west wing is crumbling. We can undercut them with a conditional bid.” Bell squinted. “Source?” “Anonymous.” She lied smoothly. “Focus on the opportunity. Securing Hudson solidifies our luxury brand. Carter Global needs it to prop up their failing London hotel.” Foster scoffed, but curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Risk assessment by tomorrow. And Elena—dress for the role.” The hospital room smelled of antiseptic. Lillian Lin, silver-haired and frail, turned at Elena’s entrance. “Elena! Did you finish your exams?” “Months ago, Mother.” Elena kissed her hand, heart aching at the confusion in her eyes. Lillian frowned, staring at the rain. “A boy visited today. Familiar… from the beach house. Sad eyes, like he carried a mountain.” Her grip tightened. “Be kind to him, dear. Sad eyes need kindness.” Elena froze. Hawk had seen her mother. “What did he say?” “Can’t remember. But he brought jasmine tea—your favorite.” Tears pricked her eyes. He remembered. Of course he did. Back in her suite, Elena found the photo in her suitcase: 2015, Hamptons dock, her in a polka-dot swimsuit, Hawk shirtless, grinning. A relic from a summer before he’d vanished, leaving only a note: I’m sorry. Don’t look for me. Her phone pinged. Another email from Hawk: The tea was for your mother, by the way. Tell her it’s from Kyoto, just like old times. – H She deleted it quickly, but the ache lingered. Ten years ago, he’d been her tutor, her confidant, the boy who’d taught her calculus and Keats. Now he was a rival, a mystery, a threat. Rain pattered on the window. Elena stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. What did he want? The question hung in the dark, as relentless as the storm.