Rosaline had spent the entire morning convincing herself she could do this.
Just one meeting. Just another client.
Her reflection in the glass wall of her office was composed to perfection: a cream silk blouse, a soft chignon, neutral lipstick that didn't tremble when she pressed her lips together. The faint scent of her perfume lingered like armor. Nothing about her said guilt. Nothing said I slept with him.
And yet her heart wouldn't listen to reason.
The email from her assistant blinked at the corner of her screen:
CONRAD REID - REID INDUSTRIES. 10:00 A.M. BOARDROOM THREE.
She'd gotten the text last night, minutes after slipping her dress into the laundry basket and staring at her reflection like a stranger. It was almost poetic, a cruel, cosmic joke. The man who had once humiliated her in a boardroom was now stepping back into her life the very next day, without knowing what he'd already taken from her.
Her phone buzzed once more.
"He's here."
Rosaline inhaled deeply. Her fingers trembled only slightly as she gathered her tablet and notebook. You can do this.
When she stepped into Boardroom Three, he was already there.
Conrad Reid stood by the window, back turned, shoulders squared in the crisp perfection of a tailored charcoal suit. Morning light pooled around him, gilding the edges of control and power he wore so naturally. Even from behind, he radiated that same restrained intensity that had once made every meeting with him feel like a battle she could never quite win.
And then he turned.
The room shifted.
For a single heartbeat, she saw last night again the way his hand had traced down her spine, the sound of her name (Nora, whispered against her skin like a promise he didn't mean to make). The memory made her pulse stumble.
"Rosaline Clarke," he said, his voice smooth, familiar. "It's been what? Three years?"
"Almost four." Her tone was calm. Steady. Perfectly professional.
He smiled a faint, knowing curve that used to infuriate her. "You look the same. Always did know how to stay two steps ahead of everyone."
She forced a small laugh. "Occupational hazard."
He crossed the room and offered his hand. His palm was warm, too warm. The contact sent a traitorous memory flashing through her: his touch against her bare back, the taste of champagne, and something darker. Rosaline pulled her hand back quickly, pretending to reach for her tablet.
"I hear congratulations are in order," she said, keeping her eyes on the screen. "Your acquisition with Ryden Tech went through this morning."
"Efficient as ever," he murmured. "And yes, it's official. We'll be needing your team for the PR rollout. It'll be a big one."
Rosaline nodded, focusing on the pitch she'd memorized before dawn. "We'll handle everything discreetly. The narrative will emphasize innovation and partnership."
Conrad chuckled softly. "Still all business, I see."
His gaze lingered too long, assessing, amused. And she hated how aware she was of it.
Then, casually, he said it.
"I actually ran into your sister last night."
Rosaline's breath caught. She didn't look up. "Oh?"
"At the Gala," he continued, unaware of the chaos his words stirred inside her. "Didn't expect to see Nora there, but she was different somehow." He smiled faintly, eyes distant with memory. "Softer. Calmer. Not her usual scene, but."
Rosaline pressed her nails into her palm, forcing herself to nod. "She mentioned she might attend."
"She looked incredible," he added, and the casual praise stung more than she expected. "We talked for a while. Caught up on old times."
Caught up.
If only he knew what "caught up" had meant.
Rosaline swallowed hard. "Nora has that effect on people."
Conrad's brow lifted slightly, curiosity flickering. "You sound almost jealous."
"I'm not." The words came too quickly. She smoothed them over with a smile. "I'm just used to her being the star of the room."
He tilted his head, studying her. "You both shine. Just differently."
The remark should have been harmless. Instead, it landed like a bruise.
He turned toward the projection screen, shifting the topic effortlessly. "Anyway, let's talk rollout strategy. I want to make sure this launch feels personal. Authentic."
She nodded, grateful for the reprieve, though her mind barely followed his words. He paced as he spoke, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the faint scar along his wrist, the one she remembered from years ago when he'd shattered a glass in anger after a meeting gone wrong. She shouldn't remember things like that. She shouldn't remember him this way.
By the time the meeting ended, her notepad was filled with neat bullet points she barely remembered writing.
Conrad gathered his files, slipping his watch back into place. "Good to be working with you again, Rosaline."
"You too," she managed.
He paused at the door. "Tell Nora I said hello, would you? I'd like to see her again soon."
Her throat closed. "Of course."
He smiled, unaware, untroubled, and left.
The moment the door clicked shut, Rosaline exhaled a sound she hadn't realized she was holding in. Her shoulders slumped, the mask cracking for the first time all day.
The room still smelled faintly of his cologne, dark, clean, infuriatingly familiar.
Rosaline pressed her palms against the cool table surface, eyes closing.
Tell Nora I said hello.
Her pulse thudded in her ears. The words circled her like ghosts.
There would be other meetings. Other conversations. She couldn't avoid him forever. Not without making him suspicious.
But how long could she stand in front of him, calm, professional, knowing what he didn't?
Knowing he was looking at the twin he thought he wanted, while the woman he'd actually touched was the one standing right here?
The thought made her stomach twist.
She opened her eyes to the skyline beyond the glass, the city moving, oblivious, while her world tilted just slightly out of place.
For the first time since the gala, Rosaline admitted it: This was no longer a lie she could walk away from.
Because every time he said Nora's name, her heart answered anyway.