Chapter 2: The Ghosts in The Conference Room

My mouth fell open. “You’re the groom?”

Zane was getting married? To someone other than me? And I was to be the wedding planner?

My legs wanted to give out.

“Surprise,” Zane said with mock enthusiasm. “Is there a problem with that Ms. Ibe? Or do you usually greet your clients like they are suspects in a felony case?”

I took a step back. “My apologies.”

The room was silent for a while until Mr. Wade cleared his throat. He gestured towards me. “This is Miss Amara Ibe, our lead consultant and wedding planner for the Blackwood-Voss wedding.”

Blackwood-Voss wedding? He was really getting married. It was a stab straight to my heart.

Zane gave a single nod. “Ms. Ibe.”

His voice, God, his voice! I had missed it so much. Deep, low, slightly rough.

I stepped forward. “Yes, I’m Amara Ibe.”

Zane extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I hope we get along.”

That hurt. It was as if I was a stranger. As if we had never been lovers in the past. As if I didn’t know his body as well as he did mine. As if our morning breaths had never mingled days on end. As if I wasn’t the only woman that mattered to him. As if we never ruined each other.

I didn’t take his hand. I couldn’t.

His lips twitched. Then he lowered his hand and began flipping through a portfolio.

“This is the final venue list, I assume?”

“Yes, it is,” I replied. The words tasted like granite on my tongue.

“Good.”

Mr. Wade cleared his throat. “Shall we begin the interview?”

My legs ached under the weight of memories I couldn’t voice, so I pulled out a chair and sat. Mr. Wade began with clipped questions. Experience? References? NDAs? I answered on autopilot. But my eyes kept shifting to Zane. He was silent at the window, arms crossed.

He hadn’t forgotten me. I was sure. He was just pretending. Why? And why hire me to be the planner?

“Do you know each other?” Mr. Wade asked.

I opened my mouth.

“No,” Zane said. “But I heard she’s the best in the game. And Sera specifically wanted her.”

My stomach clenched. Was this a joke? Was this really how we were playing it?

Leah cleared her throat. “We’ve reviewed a lot of the packages and timelines. So we could begin scheduling design walkthroughs next week.”

“For today,” I said, forcing myself to speak, “we’ve prepared a walkthrough of the main garden and reception areas. The bride hasn’t arrived yet?”

Zane shook his head. “She’s a bit… occupied. Sera is a private woman. Let’s do the walkthrough another day.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Wade said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with legal.”

Mr. Wade stepped out the room, leaving just the three of us. The silence in the room was pronounced, tension so thick a knife could cut through.

Leah stood up abruptly and gathered her stuff. “I’ll give you two a moment,” she said, aiming a meaningful look at me. She exited the room soon after, the door clicking shut behind her, offering me silence and an opportunity to think.

I had heard rumors about Zane. He had an accident after the scandal (that I caused) five years ago which resulted in memory loss. Apparently, he doesn’t remember anything from his past. I dismissed all of them as rumors, ignored any information about him for self-preservation… until now. It all seemed fabricated though, yet it was easier on my heart to believe that he truly didn’t remember me rather than him pretending not to remember me.

We were standing face to face in the same room, wedding planner to groom, ex-lover to ex-lover, reunited in one of the most insane, unexpected ways ever. I wanted to say something, to scream. Yet the words couldn’t form. So I kept silent and stared at him. He stared back at me, posture relaxed, arms still across his chest. His eyes were empty. I wanted him to speak, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to unless I did.

I spoke up. “Is this a joke?”

He picked up a glass of water, his expression was unreadable. “Do you find it funny?”

It’s either I laughed or I cried. “You really don’t know me? You, Zane Blackwood, with your elephant's memory?”

“I really do not know you,” Zane stressed calmly. “Although, your name, Amara Ibe… seems to ring a bell.” The way my name rolled off his tongue caused shivers to go up my spine. He tilted his head. “Do I know you? Am I supposed to know you?”

That startled a sharp laugh out of me. He was too good at pretending. “So this is how it’s going to be?”

He set the glass down, took a step toward me. “How should it be, Miss Ibe?”

The heat between us sparked to life, unwanted and familiar. My skin prickled. Zane was close enough now that I could see the faint scar beneath his left eye. I remembered how he got it. A night of too much whiskey and too many secrets.

“Professional,” I said, keeping my tone even. “This is business. Nothing more.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “You do look familiar.”

“Don’t play games with me, Zane,” I snapped.

“You seem tense,” he said, voice dipping lower. “Nervous?”

“Just disappointed.”

“In what?”

“That I agreed to work for you before knowing who you were.”

He smiled again, wolfish this time. “And now that you know?”

I crossed my arms. “Now I know to keep my guard up.”

His smile sharpened. “Have we met really before?”

The question knocked the air from my lungs. “What?”

“You’re staring like we have history,” he said, mouth curving slightly. “But I think I’d remember someone like you.”

My breath caught. He was still pretending. I hated him for it, and for how badly I wanted to drag the truth from his mouth.

“No,” I said tightly. “But you’re acting like you want to.”

That earned a smirk. “That obvious?”

“You’re two inches from crossing an HR boundary.”

He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek, fingers grazing my skin. I shivered. Damn him.

“Funny,” he murmured, “you feel familiar. Like something I used to dream about.”

His voice caused shivers to crawl up my spine. He took another step towards me. I moved away from him and my back hit the wall.

He didn’t touch me, not fully. But he braced one hand beside my head, leaned in so close I could feel the warmth of his breath against my lips. The other hand came up to my face. He dragged a finger down my cheek. I shivered at his touch. His gaze moved downwards and unashamedly settled on my lips. I swallowed hard, and he caught the movement, eyes darkening.

I knew the look in his eyes. It was the one he got when he was consumed by desire, the expression he had just before he kissed me. And he looked like he wanted to kiss me. Eyes dilated, hands positioned in place, lips slightly parted, finger on my chin slowly moving my head towards his.

Zane leaned in further, his lips merely a hairs breadth away from mine, and…