3. Collision Course

The Carter estate sat like a monument to old money and ambition. Elena stepped into the sun-drenched kitchen, adjusting the collar of her sweater higher, hiding the fading marks on her neck. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hit her, bitter and grounding.

Her father, Mike Carter, stood by the island counter, his phone balanced between his shoulder and ear, voice clipped and assertive.

“I don’t care what he said, if the suppliers aren’t meeting the deadline, pull out and find someone else. Tell Mitchell I don’t pay him to screw up.”

Elena leaned against the counter, eyes heavy from lack of sleep and thoughts she couldn’t shake. Her father hadn’t noticed her yet.

“Yeah, tell him the merger paperwork has to be signed by Monday. No excuses. Got it?”

He hung up the call and turned his attention to her. “Elena?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, taking in her oversized hoodie and the way she kept her head down.

She cleared her throat and gave him a smile she didn’t feel. “Morning.”

“You’re up early.”

“Barely,” she muttered, sipping her coffee.

“I heard you didn’t come home last weekend when I was on the trip.”

Elena’s pulse spiked. “I… I was at Paris’s. I texted you.”

A lie. A terrible one.

He nodded slowly, too slowly. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

Elena’s grip tightened on the glass. “Why not?”

“Because I know that look, kid. It’s the same one your mother used to wear when she was hiding something.”

Her stomach twisted at the mention of her mother. “I’m not hiding anything.”

He stepped toward her, leaning on the counter. “Elena, listen. I know I haven’t been around much lately. But if there’s something going on, someone, I need to know.”

Her heart skipped. “There’s nothing, dad.”

“I got a call from Dean Holloway yesterday.”

Her blood turned to ice.

“He said you missed two exams this week.”

She swallowed hard. “I… I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Elena.” Her father’s voice softened, but the disappointment cut deeper than anger. “This isn’t like you. You’ve been distracted for weeks. Skipping classes. Staying out all night.” He leaned forward. “What’s going on?”

I slept with a stranger twice my age and now I can’t stop thinking about him.

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I’m just stressed.”

“I know I’ve been busy lately, but I need you to take more responsibility, El. People see you. You're a Carter. That means something.”

A Carter. A name with weight. A legacy. And here she was, sneaking out of men’s beds, lying through her teeth, walking the razor’s edge of disaster.

“I’ll be better,” she said quietly.

Her father nodded, already half-focused on the next meeting on his schedule. “Good. I’m having someone over for dinner tonight. A business associate. Try to be presentable, okay?”

“Another boring suit?” she asked, hoping it was no one she'd have to fake a smile for.

Mike grinned. “He’s sharp. Young. Handles his shit. Reminds me of me, actually.”

Great. Another ambitious shark to add to her father’s collection.

“I’ll make myself scarce.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. Could be good for you to sit in and learn.”

Elena’s stomach twisted. She nodded slowly. “Sure. I’ll try.”

As her father left the room, Elena leaned forward, pressing her palms to her face. “God, just let it be someone boring.”

But fate, as always, had other plans.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Across town, Ryan Johnson leaned back in his chair at the long glass table in his parents’ dining room. The chandelier above him glittered with overcompensated wealth, and the smell of rosemary chicken wafted from the kitchen, where his mother was setting plates like it was still 2005.

“You’re late,” his mother said, setting down the silverware with unnecessary force.

“I came straight from the office,” Ryan replied, loosening his tie. “I’m juggling three collapsing contracts and a team that can’t make a decision without a crisis call.”

His father grunted from the head of the table. “Excuses.”

Ryan didn’t flinch. “Facts.” He kissed her cheek.

His mother sighed, wiping her hands on a linen cloth. “You work too hard. When was the last time you brought someone home for dinner? I mean a real woman. Not those assistants you parade around for two months before disappearing on them.”

Ryan lifted an eyebrow. “You keeping a spreadsheet?”

“You’re thirty, Ryan. It’s time.”

“I’m twenty-eight.”

His father sipped his wine. “Same difference.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, jaw tightening. “I didn’t know we were having the ‘why are you still single’ intervention today.”

“Call it a mother’s concern,” his mom said, sitting across from him. “You’re always busy. Always alone.”

Ryan’s mind flicked, unbidden, to a girl with wild eyes and kiss-bitten lips. Lavender and whiskey. Her skin. Her mouth. The way she’d vanished before dawn.

He took a long drink of wine. “Alone isn’t so bad.”

“You don’t believe that,” his mother said softly.

He didn’t answer.

“You have that meeting with Mike Carter today, right?” his father asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah. Noon. Signing the first phase of the venture project.”

“He’s a good man. Smart. Built his empire from the ground up. You could learn something from him.”

“I already did.” Ryan’s voice was quiet. “That’s why I’m his partner now.”

His father raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “Noon reminded that I heard you disappeared last night. Club Noire again?”

His mother arched a brow. “Ryan Johnson, are you partying instead of…”

“I’m not twenty, Mother.” He smirked. “I own the club.”

“That’s not the point,” Anna huffed.

Will chuckled. “Let the boy live, Anna.”

The conversation drifted into safer territory — market trends, political gossip, hedge funds. But Ryan’s mind never really left the night before and the girl he shouldn’t be thinking about. Just a night, he reminded himself.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Elena stood in front of her bedroom mirror, staring at her reflection like it belonged to a stranger.

She’d changed three times, finally settling on a simple white dress, her hair swept into a loose ponytail, her makeup minimal. Presentable.

She didn’t know why she was nervous. Business meetings weren’t new. Her father brought in all sorts of men in tailored suits and polished smiles. She’d learned early on how to blend in, how to be just charming enough to be ignored. But something felt different this time.

The doorbell rang. Her heart jumped.

Downstairs, she heard her father’s voice, then another — deeper, rougher, achingly familiar.

She forced herself to walk downstairs, each step feeling like a countdown to disaster. The foyer was bathed in golden light. Her father stood near the door, laughing at something his guest had said. The second she stepped into the stairs, she saw him.

Ryan.

Standing next to her father in a tailored navy suit that clung to his broad shoulders, shirt unbuttoned just enough to expose that sinful collarbone, dark hair styled back, looking like every single fantasy she hadn’t dared to revisit since she’d snuck out of that room.

Her father turned, smiling. “Elena, come meet…”

Ryan turned. His gaze locked onto hers. 

Elena’s breath caught. His lips parted slightly, and for a beat, the world went utterly still. Her heart hammered so loud she swore they could both hear it.

Mike looked between them. “Ryan, this is my daughter, Elena.”

Ryan stared at her. His eyes flicked from her lips to her hands to the thin gold chain at her neck. All those details he’d memorized in the dark were now glaring back at him in daylight.

Ryan’s jaw clenched. He turned to Gregory, forcing a smile. “Your daughter?”

Mike chuckled. “Yeah. She will be graduating from school soon.”

She lied.

Ryan’s lips curved into a smirk. “Elena.”

Elena forced herself to step forward, her hand outstretched. “Good evening, Mr. Johnson.”

His fingers closed around hers, warm and firm. “Ryan.”

His grip tightened, just for a second, his thumb brushing her pulse point. The air between them crackled with unsaid words, with memories of tangled sheets and whispered lies. Ryan leaned in slightly. Her breath hitched.

Mike frowned, glancing between them. “You two know each other?”

Ryan’s smile never wavered. “Yes.”

Elena swallowed hard. “No.”