The moment she left, the room felt different.
Damian Blackwood sat alone at the bar, his untouched drink sweating beside his phone. The chatter resumed around him, quiet, respectful, meaningless. But his mind wasn't on the conversations, or the numbers flashing on his screen.
It was on her.
That woman.
Her voice. Her nerve. Her eyes.
Especially those eyes.
They were hauntingly familiar.
Not in the way of someone he'd dated, or crossed paths with at a socialite's gala. No, there was something deeper. Older. As if she carried a story she wasn't telling. As if she'd lived a thousand lives behind those lashes.
He closed his eyes briefly.
For a split second, an image flickered, like a flashbulb behind his eyelids.
A girl in red. A charity banquet. Glass breaking. Her eyes meeting his across the room before she vanished into the crowd.
That was years ago.
And now, here she was again.
Only this time… she spoke to him.
Defied him.
Left him intrigued.
Damian's eyes dropped to the small, cream-colored business card she'd placed on the bar just before she'd walked away without another word.
Elena Reed.
Strategic Consultant.
No company name. No contact photo. Just a number, embossed in minimalist silver.
Strategic consultant?
It felt like a cover.
And Damian hated being lied to.
He tapped a button on his phone.
Within seconds, his assistant answered. "Yes, Mr. Blackwood?"
His voice was calm but clipped. "Run a full background check. Elena Reed. Twenty-six. Find everything."
There was a pause. "Right away, sir. Anything specific?"
Damian looked at the card again.
Her name.
Her eyes.
Her nerve.
"Everything," he repeated.