When Lovers Find Their Way Back

Chapter 001

Olivia's POV

"Did you overlook me, Olivia?"

The same voice used to set my heart's flame stopped cold. It slithered over the large boardroom like a ghost from the past, softly rich and dangerously low, tightly enough to take my breath. As I turned, my professional armor threatened to break into a million fragments. My pulse flew.

Every inch the guy I had attempted to ignore for the previous four years, Ethan Sinclair stood at the front of the room. His cobalt-blue eyes jabbed through me with the fury of a thunderbolt, his crisp navy suit suited him like a second skin. The only thing holding me to reality was my fingers closing around the strap of my leather portfolio.

"Miss you?," Though my knees were not stable, my voice was ice. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sinclair; I don't hang around the past."

His mouth quitched, almost subtly, as though he were stifling a smile. It was so audacious that my blood boiled. "Is that so?" he said, his voice cool yet with a keen edge fit to cut through steel. "I suppose then entering my office today was merely a coincidence?"

I straightened my back, not wanting to give him the gratification of knowing how much he bothered me. Your office is not this one. Since your employer employed me, I am here at this employment site. That sums up all this is.

Ethan approached deliberately predatory, his movement near. The room appeared to shrink around us, the tension-charged air thick enough to suffocate. "Is it?" he said, his eyes fixed on me with a power that drove my well built defenses tumbling. "because it feels like fate to me."

I laughed bitterly, the sound loaded with every bit of hate I had been harboring. "Fate does not wipe off people, Ethan. You truly do.

The room's warmth plummeted, and for a second I watched something flutter in his eyes-perhaps regret? But it was gone, replaced by that impenetrable mask of his just as fast.

"You've always had a flair for dramatics, Olivia," he replied, his voice chilly. "I did not wipe you out." You become stronger thanks to me.

"And what exactly did you think leaving me would accomplish?" My voice broke, reflecting the tempest of feelings inside of me. I berated myself for allowing him to glimpse even a fraction of my sensitivity.

Ethan moved farther closer and stiffened his jaw, a muscle twitching. His fragrance, a terrible mix of cedarwood and spice, assaulted my senses and drove me back to evenings when his aroma was all I could hang onto.

"I never abandoned you," he continued, his voice kind but forceful, tinged with an edge suggesting deeper truths I wasn't sure I wanted to find. "You turned away."

And what option did I have? My words emerged like a whisper, a brittle fracture in the armor I had labored so hard to create. You let Ethan down, Ethan. You smashed me.

The air between us stopped momentarily, and I thought I saw his mask slide. Though he stopped himself, folding his fingers into a tight grip at his side, his hand jerked as though he wanted to reach out to me.

Quietly, he continued, "You don't know the whole story, Olivia," his voice bearing weight I didn't know how to interpret. "You just know what you observed."

"Don't," I snapped and stepped back. "Don't stand there and tell me I have no idea what I witnessed. Ethan, you choose what to do. Right now, live with it.

He opened his lips to answer, but before he could, the door sprung open like a hammer cracking glass. Wide-eyed and fluffed, a youthful assistant hurried in carrying a tablet.

"Mr. Sinclair, I apologize for interrupting; however, the system merging presents a critical problem. The press is already speculating on sabotage; the whole network is down.

Ethan turned to meet her, his face darkened and his jaw tightened. "Who is taking care of it?"

"IT is working on it; the merger talks run into danger. They are waiting for your comment.

Ethan ran a hand through his immaculate hair, grumbled under his breath, then turned back to me. With a low, firm voice, "This isn't over, Olivia," he said. Not quite by a long stretch.

He left me alone with my racing thoughts and the ghost of a guy I wasn't sure I would ever really know without waiting for a reply.

I tried to settle my quivering palms by exhaling forcefully. Seeing Ethan once more was like revisiting an old wound-one I had persuaded myself had closed. But standing there, in the aftermath of his presence, I sensed every sharp edge of the suffering I had suppressed.

His vitality still permeated the room, a seductive mix of bravado, risk, and something that seemed dangerously like desire. I hated that my heart deceived me by throbbing at the very sound of his voice, and hated that he still had this impact on me.

I looked at the portfolio in my hand, the one with the designs and ideas I had labored to create. This was meant to be my opportunity to show to the world and myself that I did not need Ethan Sinclair or anyone else to determine my value. I was meant to rebuild.

But destiny seems to have other ideas.

The harsh ring of my phone broke through my ideas. I drew it out, looking at the caller ID.

Vicente.

I responded with a sigh. Vic, right now is not a good moment.

"You'll make time," she responded sharply, her voice edged with desperation. "Have you seen the news?," said

"News?" I scowled, went to the window, and drew the curtain aside to allow the glaring lights of the city to flood in. "What are you speaking of?"

"There is a rumor going around Sinclair Tech. Something concerning an attack or takeover. Olivia, this may sour the union.

"Why are you showing me this?" Already afraid of the response, I inquired.

"Because you're in the middle of it, whether you like it or not," Victoria remarked, her voice stern. "And your project suffers as Sinclair declines."

Her comments sank in and my stomach turned upside down. "The project is not of interest to me. Let it break apart for all I am concerned about.

"Don't lie to me," she shot back. Whether or not you want to acknowledge it, you care for him too.

You don't know the full story, Olivia, Ethan's words rang in my head. You know just what you observed.

The conceit of it enraged me, but under the fury was a persistent curiosity. In what possible sense could he mean that? When I had seen everything with my own eyes-the treachery, the falsehoods, the devastation of what we had created together-what narrative was there to tell?

Shaking my head, I urged the memories to remain buried. I afford to let him reenter my heart. Not immediately. Never once.

My thoughts were disturbed by the faint chime of a new email. I opened it mechanically, staring at the screen.

Subject: URGENT FOR YOUR EYES ONLY.

The little message had terrifying words.

You are not knowing the complete narrative. See me tonight at nine thirty PM. Sinclair Tower's rooftop design.

As I went back over the note, my blood became ice. There was no sender, no signature-just a menacing invitation that made my spine quiver.

Was this Ethan? From his firm, someone asked Alternatively someone having more malevolent motivations?

Trapped between deleting the message and flinging caution to the wind, I gazed at the screen. When my phone buzzed once again, my finger stayed over the delete button. This time the work was a text.

Never trust anybody. Especially him.

I glanced at the mysterious phrase while my heart hammered against my ribs. Though the number was unknown, the writing clearly indicated. Someone watched me; they knew more than they were revealing.

And my reality felt less consistent suddenly.

Extension of Cliffhangers: Suspensive Confrontation

I watched the text on my phone, the words blurring as terror and uncertainty tore at the margins of my consciousness. What did they want from me, and who was forwarding these messages? Though my gut urged me to ignore them, the curiosity seething just below the surface refused to be quiet.

Once more my phone buzzed, the sound as piercing and intrusive as a gunshot. Shaking hands, I swiped to see the most recent message.

Olivia, Clock's ticking is under control. Tower. Nine o'clock. Alternatively everything you are attempting to preserve will burn.

My pulse thumping in my ears, I gasped and straggled. My breath slowed as questions shot across my head. Safety? Sort what? Someone? Amy? In terms of my work? Was this more of a bluff? a caution? Or something far more sinister?

Startled by a knock at the door, I almost dropped my phone. Turning toward the entrance of the suddenly vacant boardroom, my heart sprang into my throat. "Who's here?" I called, my voice faltering even with my best attempts to sound calm.

Ethan entered as the door cracked open, his face stormy and inscrutable. We should chat.

Ethan, this is not the time. My voice tightened. My hold on my phone tightened, naturally obscuring the screen from his view. "I have work to complete."

He squinted, his keen sight zeroing right on the stress emanating from me. "Something's incorrect." It was a pronouncement, not a question; it chilled me down from the top. He came closer, looking for responses on my face. "What is it?."

I lied, edging backward toward the window, "nothing." My brain ran for a way out, but Ethan's magnetic proximity and stifling all at once was unbearable.

With a low, menacing tone, he advised Olivia not to lie to me. "I see it in your eyes. There is something happening; if it affects you, I am not keeping out of it.

I bit my lip, my terror about to burst forth. "You're the last person I would trust to support me."

That really got to me. His eyes darkened with something between hurt and wrath as his jaw closed. His voice sharp, he replied, "Whether you like it or not, I'm already involved." "I have to know who is threatening you."

The air between us was charged, and for a minute I paused, stuck between the urgent threat of the present and the residual draw of the past. My phone buzzed once more before I could answer though.

A fresh message flashed on the screen, and this time it was not obscure.

He is not telling you truthfully. If you disagree with me, check the penthouse.

My blood flowed coldly. Ethan's eyes dropped to the phone in my grasp, and his posture changed to reflect doubt. With a harsh voice like a knife, he said, "Who's that?"

He grabbed for the phone before I could reply, or determine if I even wanted to. I yanked it back automatically, and when the tension reached a breaking point we both stopped.

"Olivia," he murmured, his voice low and lethal. Tell me what you are doing. just now.

Tucked between the truth and the lies, the dread and the rage, I peered into his angry eyes. But the structure trembled beneath the weight of a far-off, menacing boom before I could talk, with the lights in the boardroom flickering. Alarms shrieked in the hall, slicing through the thick quiet like a siren of catastrophe.

Ethan's face grew rigid, his defensive impulses firing right away. "Stay near me," he advised, his hand extending for mine. I did not, however, take it. My ideas were already whirling madly elsewhere.

Roof top. penthouse. The alert. The peril.

I had quick decisions to make.