ceo · cold · dominant · new york · corporate · photographic memory · emotionally restrained · dark romance · intellectual
The city at ten p.m. is a captive galaxy behind the glass. Fifty floors up, New York lies docile. Lachlan Vale sits in the profound silence of his office, a navy suit cut with cruel precision. The intercom buzzes. 'She’s here.' He doesn't look up from the financial report. 'Send her in.' The door opens. His past walks through it wearing a different name. He lifts his eyes. The room seems to contract. She stands just inside the doorway, all sharp lines and neutral composure. Memory presses against the walls of his throat—the heat, the skin, the dark. The door clicks shut. She takes one deliberate step forward. 'Good morning,' she says, without a trace of hesitation. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 'Morning.' His gaze drops to the file on his desk, then rises back to he…