Chapter 13
Familiar Strangers
John's POV
Three years had passed since I last saw her, and still, no signs of my mysterious Bella. I had held onto the pendant she left behind, knowing it was a foolish thing to do. Every day I told myself it was delusional, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't bring myself to let go of the hope that somehow, someday, I would find her again.
I buried myself in work. When you have competitors like mine, doing your best isn't just an understatement—it's the bare minimum. Titan Weapons Co. was undergoing major renovations, and we were under pressure to complete everything within the tight deadlines. The company needed to maintain its reputation, and I couldn't afford to let anything slip.
I had taken on more projects than ever, hoping to distract myself from the quiet ache of missing someone I barely knew. There were too many hours spent staring at blueprints and too many meetings to count, all while the world continued moving forward around me.
The renovations to the building were more than just cosmetic; we were redefining the layout, updating the internal systems, and refining the safety protocols for our latest innovations. It was intense, meticulous work—just the kind of challenge I thrived on. But despite all the progress I made in my professional life, I couldn't shake the thought of her.
The pendant sat on my desk, often catching the light when I glanced over. It was a reminder of something I never fully understood. A part of me wondered if she was out there, living her life, forgetting about that brief encounter we had.
But I couldn't move on. Not completely. She had somehow gotten under my skin in a way I hadn't expected.
My assistant, Carla, popped her head into my office, breaking my train of thought. "Mr. McQueen, the team's ready for the meeting. Are you—"
"I'll be right there," I said, cutting her off before she could finish.
I ran a hand through my hair, pushing the thoughts of Bella back for now. Work was my focus—work had to be my focus.
But as I walked toward the conference room, the faint hope of seeing her again lingered, like a shadow, always there no matter how hard I tried to bury it.
The meeting with Mr. Rowe was progressing slowly, as usual. The discussion about renovations, client expectations, and timelines felt like it could go on for hours. I was listening, but my mind was already running through other concerns about the company's future and the upcoming projects we were trying to finalize. I was on autopilot, barely reacting, when Mr. Rowe's voice cut through the haze.
"McQueen, we're missing something on the design for the new building. We need someone to handle the adjustments to the layout. Who's available?"
Before I could respond, Martinez, one of our senior architects, spoke up. "Isabella's not here right now, but I'll send for her." She glanced over at her assistant before continuing, "She can help with this."
I barely processed the name until I heard the door to the conference room open a moment later.
"Excuse me," a voice said, and I turned instinctively, expecting a colleague, but it wasn't someone I recognized.
She stepped into the room—tall, with dark, neatly pulled-back hair. Her eyes met mine for a split second, and there was something about her gaze that made my pulse skip, but I couldn't place why. She wasn't who I had been expecting. This was someone new, someone I'd never seen before. But there was something about her that felt... familiar.
Her presence immediately threw me off balance. I couldn't figure out what it was. There was an air of confidence about her that suggested she belonged here. But still, I couldn't pinpoint her. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, her posture, the slight tilt of her head when she walked into the room.
She was carrying a set of blueprints, and as she approached Martinez to hand them over, I couldn't shake the feeling that she looked so... recognizable. But why? The more I tried to make sense of it, the more elusive it became.
"Here you go," she said, handing over the papers. Her voice was calm, professional, but there was something in the way she spoke that hinted at a deeper intensity beneath the surface.
Martinez nodded. "Thanks, Isabella. You can leave it with me."
The woman—Isabella—paused for a moment, and her gaze flickered over to me. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes, too, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
Without another word, she turned and left the room.
I sat back, trying to gather my thoughts. Isabella. The name rang in my head, but it didn't make any sense. I couldn't remember ever meeting her, yet there was something about her that felt... wrong. Unsettling. But not in a bad way. More like a puzzle I couldn't solve.
I shook my head, refocusing on the meeting. There was no time to waste on an unknown person whose face I couldn't place. But the feeling lingered—an itch at the back of my mind that wouldn't be scratched.
After Isabella left, the meeting continued, but I couldn't shake the sense that something had shifted. My mind, which had been wandering before, now seemed unable to focus on anything else. The designs, the renovations, even the high-level discussions with Mr. Rowe—all of it felt distant. My thoughts were tangled with the image of the woman who had just left.
I glanced over at the door, as if expecting her to walk back in. Why do I feel like I've seen her before?
I felt a sudden urge to stand up, but I stayed seated, running my fingers over the edge of the conference table. My thoughts drifted back to the pendant, now buried somewhere in the drawer of my desk. Had she been the one to give it to me? My mind flickered to the last time I'd held it, but it was all just a blur—something more like a dream than a real memory.
"McQueen?" Mr. Rowe's voice snapped me back to the present. I blinked, realizing I had completely tuned out the conversation.
"Yes, sorry. Let's move on," I muttered, trying to focus.
But all I could think about was Isabella.