Chapter 3

Elena POV 

The sound of my alarm tears through the quiet room, sharp and annoying at six in the morning.

I groan, roll over, and slap the screen until it stops ringing.

For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

New York.

Not Santorini.

Not sunlight or blue water.

Just my small apartment, my soft grey sheets, and the familiar hum of traffic outside.

This is reality

Yesterday’s sunlight, Santorini’s sea breeze, that hotel room with him, it all feels like a dream someone else lived.

But the soreness in my body isn’t a dream.

It’s a reminder I can’t erase.

I sigh and sit up slowly, rubbing my face with both hands.

Julian.

His name slips into my mind like it owns space there.

I shake my head and push away the thought. 

Today is supposed to be a fresh start, my first day at Stone Corporation. 

A job I need, a job I fought for after everything fell apart.

“Great,” I whisper. “First day of work and I already feel like I’m falling apart again.”

I swing my legs off the bed and push myself to my feet and stretched my arms over my head 

“Come on, Elena,” I whisper to myself. “You can do this.”

I grab my towel and head to the bathroom.

The hot shower helps. 

The steam, the warmth, the routine it grounds me.

By the time I’m towel-drying my hair, I feel almost normal.

Almost.

I tie my damp hair into a low ponytail and step into the kitchen. 

While I whisk eggs into a pan, my phone starts buzzing on the counter.

Nora.

Of course.

I swipe to answer. “Hey.”

“Well?” she says immediately. “Are you awake? Alive? Nervous? Excited? Crying? All three?”

I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Good morning to you too.”

“Don’t avoid the question,” she warns. “Tell me everything. How was the trip? Did Santorini fix your soul? Did you drink? Did you cry? Did you...”

“Okay, okay,” I laugh quietly, cutting her short “It was good.”

“What kind of good?” she presses. “The normal kind or the Elena-kind-where-she’s-hiding-something?”

I sigh.

I should lie. I really should.

But this is Nora.

“I met someone,” I say quietly.

There’s silence. Then...

“Oh my God. OH. MY. GOD. Elena Grey, you slept with a Greek god, didn’t you?”

I nearly choke on air. “Nora...”

“You DID! I knew it! You sound different. Happier, less dead inside.”

“I’m not happier” I mutter. “And he wasn’t Greek.”

“So where is he now? Still texting you? Calling you? Already obsessed with you?”

“He’s…not around anymore,” I say. “It was just one night.”

“A one-night stand?” She gasps like it’s national news. “My baby finally lived!”

“ Common Nora, I didn't live.”

“You absolutely did,” she insists. “And you needed it. I’m proud of you.”

I flip the eggs in the pan. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll never see him again.”

“Well, kiss that mystery man goodbye and focus,” she says. “You have a new job. Stone Corporation. The CEO better appreciate you or I’ll burn the building down myself.”

I laugh. “Please don’t burn my new workplace.”

“No promises.”

She pauses. “Good luck, okay? And if you panic, call me.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too. Go be brilliant.”

When the call ends, I stand there for a moment, feeling strangely lighter.

Then I grab my breakfast, finish it quickly, and get ready to leave.

New job.

New start.

No thinking about Santorini.

The Stone Corporation building looks even bigger in person tall glass windows, polished floors, and people who seem to know exactly where they’re going.

I do not, but I walk with purpose anyway.

After checking in with HR and receiving a folder full of instructions, I’m directed to the top floor, the executive level.

The elevator dings softly, and when the doors open, I step into a quiet hallway lined with dark wood and soft lighting.

My desk sits right outside the corner office. 

The CEO’s office.

My new boss’s office.

I swallow hard and sit down, placing my bag beside me.

The name reads:

JULIAN STONE — CEO

My heart gives a small, confused thud.

Julian.

Same name.

Stupid coincidence, it has to be, right?

I place my hands on the desk to steady myself and begin going through the papers HR gave me. Contacts, Schedules, meetings.

I’m halfway through reading when the phone on my desk rings.

I freeze.

The sound is deep and sharp in the quiet hallway.

I picked up the phone, clear my throat and answer. “Executive office. This is Elena.”

“ Report to my office.” the voice comes through the line, low, smooth, unmistakable.

Everything inside me stops.

My breath.

My thoughts.

My heart.

No.

No, no, no.

It can’t be him.

Not here.

Not today.

But the voice…

I know that voice.

I try to convince myself I’m imagining things, that I’m nervous, that I’m hearing what I’m afraid to hear.

But my fingers tremble around the phone.

“I… I’m on my way,” I manage to whisper, then the phone went off

I dropped the phone on the desk then stand up slowly, my legs unsteady. 

My pulse is wild, my ribs tight. 

I smooth my blouse, trying to look calm, even though my insides are shaking.

I walk to the door.

Lift my hand and knock

“Come in,” the voice calls.

This time, there’s no mistaking it.

Not when it’s so clear.

Not when it hits me right in the center of my chest.

I grip the handle, inhale once, and open the door.

And see him.

Julian.

Sitting behind his desk, his sleeves rolled, his eyes the exact shade of green that burned into me in Santorini.

My stomach drops.

My knees almost give out.

I grab the doorframe to steady myself.

His eyes widen, just barely, but enough for me to know he feels it too.

The recognition.

The punch of it.

The way the room seems to tilt.

“Elena,” he says, and my name sounds too familiar on his tongue.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t speak.

I step back, shaking my head, and before I embarrass myself, I slip out of the office and shut the door behind me.

Outside, I went back to my desk and sit. I press a hand to my chest, trying to calm my breathing.

Trying not to cry, trying not to show any emotions.

Minutes pass, then the phone on my desk rings again.

I pick it up with shaking fingers.

“Come back in,” he say, with a controlled, cool and professional tone

I took a breath in and out and then I force myself to stand and walk back into his office.

He’s standing now behind his desk, his hands in his pocket, his eyes unreadable.

“We need to talk,” he says.

“About… what happened?” I asked, my throat very dry

“No.” he said, his voice firm and cold. “About what cannot happen again.”

I flinch. 

It was small but I'm he sure he saw it because he looked away for a second, like he regrets the harshness, but when he meets my eyes again, he’s composed.

“Elena,” he says quietly, “Santorini was a mistake. A one-time thing and it cannot interfere with work.”

I feel something inside me crack.

“It won’t,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says. “Because if you want this job, and I assume you do then you’ll forget everything that happened between us.”

Do you understand?” he asks.

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.

“Yes.” I whisper, finally 

“Good,” he says, dismissing me with a nod. “You can go.”

I stand too fast, my chair scraping the floor.

I rush to the door.

Immediately I step out and close it behind me, I run.

Down the hall.

Into the bathroom.

I lock myself in a stall and press both hands over my mouth to keep the sob from escaping.

He was a memory yesterday.

A fantasy.

A story I told Nora to prove I was alive.

Now he’s the man who can fire me.

The man who told me to forget everything.

The man who doesn’t want me.

And even though I shouldn’t care 

It breaks something inside me anyway.

This is not over.

Not even close.

Because fate didn’t bring him to me twice

just to have me forget him.