Chapter 220

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 Enric 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.

Enric 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?”

Enric 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.

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

Ryan’s smile never wavered. “Yes.”

Elena swallowed hard. “No.”