Chapter 2

The shock was a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.

Ethan.

More flashes from the night before assaulted me. His low voice in my ear, his hands tangled in my hair, my own hands tracing the sharp line of his jaw. The memory was so vivid, so horribly clear. I felt a wave of nausea.

This was wrong on so many levels. He was my aunt's late husband's brother. Family. A ghost from a bizarre chapter of my life I had tried to forget.

I had to run.

I didn't even think. I just turned and fled. I didn't bother with the main elevator. I found a service door and ran down flight after flight of concrete stairs, my bare feet cold and slapping against the ground. The expensive shirt I was wearing felt like a brand of shame.

I burst out into the cool morning air of a deserted downtown street, hailed the first cab I saw, and huddled in the back seat, clutching my dress to my chest like a shield.

Back in my own small apartment, I stripped off his shirt and threw it in the trash. I stood under the shower until the water turned cold, scrubbing my skin raw, as if I could wash away the memory of his touch.

I checked my phone. No new numbers. No messages.

Maybe he didn't remember my name. Maybe he was as drunk as I was.

I clung to that hope. It was a one-time, anonymous mistake. He was a powerful man now, some kind of tech mogul according to the news I'd seen months ago. He wouldn't care about a random art student. He was gone from my life before, and he would be gone again.

I could pretend it never happened.

A week later, I was starting to believe it. Life had fallen back into its mundane rhythm of classes and homework.

Then my mom called, her voice buzzing with an excitement I hadn't heard in years.

"Lily, you won't believe it! The most wonderful thing has happened!"

"What is it, Mom?" I asked, sketching distractedly in my notepad.

"Our business! Someone is investing, a major benefactor! He's helping us expand, paying off all our debts. He saved us, Lily! And he' s coming for dinner tonight to celebrate. You have to be here."

I sighed. Probably one of my dad's old golfing buddies who'd struck it rich. "Okay, Mom. I'll be there."

That evening, I was in the kitchen helping my mom with the salad when the doorbell rang. My dad, beaming, went to get it.

"He's here!" my mom whispered, wiping her hands on her apron.

I heard my dad's booming, friendly voice. "Come in, come in! We're so glad you could make it."

A deep, familiar voice responded. A voice that haunted my nightmares.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Chen. Thank you for having me."

I froze, the salad tongs slipping from my fingers and clattering to the floor.

I walked slowly out of the kitchen.

And there he was.

Ethan Hayes stood in our living room, a picture of effortless power in a dark, impeccably tailored suit. He looked different than he had in my parents' home during his "amnesia." The confusion was gone, replaced by a sharp, predatory confidence.

He handed my mother a bouquet of flowers, his smile polite and charming.

Then his eyes found mine.

They were dark, intense, and they held a spark of knowing amusement that made my blood run cold. He saw me, and he remembered everything.