Ghost from the past.

Nadia's POV

When I woke up the next morning, the man was gone.

I lay there for a second staring at the ceiling of a hotel room that wasn't mine, in a city I had only been in for two days, wearing absolutely nothing, and I thought — this is not what a fresh start looks like.

The sheets were comfortable though. Softer than anything I had ever slept on. I pulled them up to my chin and closed my eyes and tried very hard not to think about anything.

It didn't work.

I couldn't get his image out of my head. And I don't know anything about him, except his face and he knows how to make a woman forget her name.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand.

Twelve missed calls from Tessa. And like ten texts.

Tessa: I swear on everything I love, if you don't pick up in the next five minutes I am calling the police and telling them a stranger kidnapped you.

I almost smiled. Almost.

Another text: Fuck you, Nadia. Pick up the damn call. You're starting to scare the shit out of me.

I was still looking at the screen when another notification came in. My aunt.

Aunt: Nadia. I hope you are awake and on your way. Today is your first day. Do not embarrass me.

I checked the time.

Then I screamed.

A full scream that I was sure the people next door heard clearly.

I had ten minutes.

Ten minutes.

I threw myself out of bed so fast I nearly hit the floor. I grabbed whatever I could find and ran for the bathroom. The shower was fast and cold because I didn't have time to wait for it to warm up. I dried off, looked at myself in the mirror for exactly three seconds, hated what I saw, and then looked down at the clothes I had come in with last night.

A going-out top. Jeans that were fine but not professional. Shoes that were cute but not practical.

I didn't have time to go back to my aunt's place and change. There was no version of this where I made it home and made it to work in ten minutes. New York was not that city.

I put the clothes back on, shoved my phone in my bag, and walked out.

The cab took fifty-three minutes.

Fifty-three minutes of me sitting in the back seat watching the meter climb, watching the buildings change, watching the time on my phone and doing absolutely nothing useful with the panic building in my chest. The driver tried to make conversation twice. I answered in one word both times. He stopped trying.

When I finally got there I stood outside and looked up.

The building was tall. Glass and steel and architecture that was designed specifically to make you feel small. The name —Virelli Systems— was printed across the front in clean silver letters.

I had no business being here in a party top and yesterday's jeans. But I went in anyway.

The woman at the front desk directed me down to the cleaners' room with a look on her face that I chose not to interpret.

My aunt was already there, fully changed into her uniform, and when she looked at me her expression said everything I needed to know.

“You're late,” she said.

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“First day, Nadia.”

“I know. I'm really sorry.”

“What are you even wearing?”

“I—”I stopped. “It's a long story.”

She gave me one more look, then handed me a uniform from the supply shelf. “Change. Now. And whatever that long story is, you can keep it to yourself.”

Sure, I wasn't going to tell her I slept with a stranger.

I changed into their worker's outfits.

“I'll lead you to your section,” she began walking out. “The company doesn't want to talk, they need action. So I want you to clean that place. Can you clean?”

Of course, I spent seven years of my life doing that so I was more like a pro now.

She finally showed me the place, and I began cleaning. But kept getting distracted.

I couldn't help it. The place was massive. Everything in it looked expensive. The floors were the kind of marble that showed every footprint. The furniture through the glass walls looked like it cost more than what I would make in a year.

People moved through the corridors in sharp clothes and purposeful strides and nobody looked at me twice, which was both a relief and somehow worse.

I was wiping down the last stretch of the corridor when I finally stopped and pulled out my phone.

A text from Tessa

Tessa: So you're alive. Great. Now explain everything immediately.

I typed back: Long story. Still at work. Talk later.

She replied in seconds: Did something happen? Nadia I need details right now.

Me: Got down with the man from last night.

The three dots that meant she was still typing were still showing, when my aunt appeared from nowhere.

“Put that away,” she said. “Come. I need you to help me with something.”

I put my phone away.

She led me down a different corridor, toward the end of the floor.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“CEO's office,” she said without turning around. “It needs to be done before he gets back from his morning meeting. So we have to be quick.”

I followed her in.

The office was huge. Floor to ceiling windows looking out over the city. A desk the size of a small boat sitting in the middle of it. Everything screamed luxury. Even the pen looked like something I could not afford.

My aunt went straight for the windows. I went to the desk and started wiping it down.

“This place is huge,” I tried starting a conversation, but she ignored me. So I continued cleaning, trying my best not to think of the stranger of last night or the more handsome one from the other night.

I heard the door open behind us.

My aunt turned immediately. “Good morning, sir. We're almost done, we'll be out of your way—”

I kept wiping the table. I'd be done in a second.

“Take your time,” a voice said.

I stopped.

I knew that voice.

I turned around slowly.

He was standing in the doorway in a suit that probably cost more than my aunt's car. He was looking at my aunt when I first turned, but then his eyes moved to me and I watched his face do something he clearly hadn't planned for it to do.

He recognised me.

“You,” I said. The word came out before I could stop it.

He stared.

My aunt looked between us with a small frown.

Then another voice came from behind him.

“Dad, you can't ground —”

The door pushed open wider and a second person walked in.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

It was the man from the club back in my hometown. He was the guy I slept with in the bathroom.

He stood in the doorway of his father's office and stared at me.

I stood in the middle of the office, my eyes flicking between them. They both recognised me.

My mouth opened.

“Dad?” I said.

I slept with a father and son?