Chapter 3

NOVA'S POV

Monday arrived so fast For me… with the kind of inevitability that suggested I'd never really had a choice about whether to show up. I'd spent the weekend in a state of suspended anxiety… researching the Rochefort name online, staring at photographs of their corporate headquarters, and trying very hard not to think about the dream that had woken me at three in the morning.

The dream I'd been having variations of ever since.

Six forty-five a.m. found me standing in front of the Rochefort building, which looked even more imposing in the grey pre-dawn light. The structure rose forty stories into a sky that hadn't quite decided whether to be blue or remain stubbornly grey. Glass and steel and the kind of architectural ambition that suggested the people inside believed themselves to be above the limitations that governed ordinary mortals.

The security desk was staffed by a man who barely glanced at my employee badge before waving me through. I took the elevator to the executive floor, my reflection multiplying endlessly in the mirrored walls as I ascended. Each reflection looked more nervous than the last.

Myles' assistant, a woman named Katherine with the kind of efficiency that made me feel perpetually inadequate, was already at her desk when I arrived. She handed me a manila folder without preamble.

"Mr. Rochefort wants you to organize the Kensington acquisition files," she said, her fingers already moving back to her keyboard. "Everything is cross-referenced in the system. He'll brief you at nine."

I nodded and took the folder, trying to ignore the flutter of anticipation that ignited in my chest at the prospect of seeing him again.

The morning disappeared into a blur of file organization and system navigation. The acquisition files were extensive contracts, financial projections, legal documents, and communications that painted a picture of Myles methodically dismantling a competitor's operations. There was something almost surgical about the way he'd orchestrated the entire thing. Nothing wasteful. Nothing sentimental. Just pure strategic ambition.

By eight forty-five, I'd arranged everything into the system according to Katherine's specifications. I was just finishing when she appeared at my temporary desk.

"He's ready for you," she said.

I smoothed my blazer and tried to ignore the way my heart rate accelerated as I walked toward his office. The door was open, and he was on the phone when I entered, speaking in low, measured tones about market shares and leverage positions. He glanced up when I stepped inside, his grey eyes registering my presence with what felt like intimate precision.

He finished his conversation and disconnected the call without bothering with the usual pleasantries.

"You finished ahead of schedule," he said. It wasn't a question.

"The system was logical," I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Once I understood the cross-referencing structure, it was straightforward."

"Nothing is straightforward in acquisition work." He stood and moved around his desk, leaning against it with that same casual command he seemed to bring to every movement. "The files you organized represent millions of dollars, hundreds of jobs, and the carefully constructed ambitions of people who believed themselves untouchable. Straightforward doesn't apply."

There was something in the way he said it that suggested he took a certain satisfaction in his own ruthlessness.

"I understand," I said. "I was simply referring to the organizational system itself."

"Were you?" He smiled then… not the predatory expression from Friday, but something more complex. Something that looked almost like respect. "Good. I need someone who can separate emotion from methodology. Who can see the larger picture without getting distracted by the human elements."

The observation felt pointed in a way I couldn't quite articulate.

"The preliminary briefing materials are on your desk," he continued. "I want you to have a comprehensive understanding of this acquisition by end of day. Tomorrow, we'll begin the real work… meetings with the legal team, financial projections, integration strategies."

"Of course," I said.

"Nova." The way he said my name made me look back at him from the doorway. "There's something else I need you to understand about this position. The work we do here isn't always comfortable. Sometimes you'll be asked to organize information that puts you in the position of knowing things that very few people should know. Confidentiality isn't just policy in my employ. It's survival."

There was an undertone to his words that suggested he wasn't speaking theoretically.

"I understand," I said quietly.

"I don't think you do," he replied. "But you will."

The rest of the day was consumed by acquisition files and financial projections. Katherine ordered lunch… something healthy and expensive that I picked at while staring at columns of numbers. By five o'clock, my eyes were blurred and my brain felt like it had been through a blender.

I was gathering my things to leave when my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

"Don't leave yet... My office. Now!." 

I knew who it was before I checked the number. That particular brand of command could belong to only one person.

When I reached his office, Myles was standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the city. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. For a moment, he looked almost vulnerable… just a silhouette against the dying light.

"You've been distracted all day," he said without turning around.

My pulse quickened. "I've been focused on the files you assigned."

"Your focus has been divided." He turned to face me, and the evening light caught his eyes, making them look almost luminous. "What's occupying the other half of your attention?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that. Wasn't sure I could admit that he was occupying the other half of my attention.

"Nothing important," I said carefully.

"Liar." He moved toward me with that same fluid grace, stopping just close enough to register as intimate. "You've been thinking about something all day. Your eyes keep going distant. Your fingers keep hesitating over the keyboard. You're holding something back."

"I'm adjusting to the job," I said.

"That's not what I asked." He reached out and tilted my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his gaze. The contact was electric, casual and devastating in equal measure. "What's really bothering you, Nova?"

I should have pulled away. Should have told him it was inappropriate. Instead, I found myself holding his gaze, acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his body and the way my pulse was thundering in my throat.

"I had a strange dream," I heard myself say. "That's all."

Something shifted in his expression. A tightening around his eyes. A subtle tension in his jaw.

"What kind of dream?" His voice had dropped to something lower and more dangerous.

"The kind you forget when you wake up but can't quite shake," I said, and I was speaking before I could stop myself, words spilling out like I was confessing something illicit. "A man with grey eyes. A feeling like I knew him from somewhere. Somewhere that didn't make sense."

His hand was still beneath my chin, and his thumb brushed across my skin with a tenderness that contradicted the intensity in his gaze.

"Describe the man," he said quietly.

"I can't. He was just... there. Familiar. Like I should have known him." I paused, and the words came before I could think them through. "Like I did know him. In another life or something."