The air was thick with summer heat, but the clouds overhead promised a storm.
I left the Windsor building late that evening, my heels clicking against the marble, echoing through the underground parking lot. The elevator had barely closed when I heard someone shout my name.
"Amelia."
I froze.
James Windsor.
He was standing near the far wall, sleeves rolled up, jacket slung over his shoulder, like he'd just walked off the cover of a fashion magazine. But his eyes… they were shadowed. Serious.
"I didn't expect to see you here this late," I said, not moving.
"I didn't expect you to leave without saying goodbye."
I laughed dryly. "You're my boss, James. Not my friend."
He walked toward me—slow, deliberate steps. "You used to call me Jamie."
"That was a lifetime ago."
He stopped in front of me, his voice low. "I don't know how to talk to you now. You're not the same girl who chased butterflies in Ethan's garden."
"No," I whispered, "she died the night your best friend didn't fight to keep her."
His jaw tightened.
We stood there, inches apart. The tension between us wasn't subtle anymore—it was raw, crackling. Thunder rumbled above.
"You think I didn't care?" he said, voice husky. "Do you know how many times I almost flew to Paris? How many emails I wrote and never sent?"
My lips parted. "Then why didn't you?"
"Because I wasn't allowed to want you."
Silence fell.
Then a drop of rain hit my cheek.
I looked up just as the sky broke open—rain falling in heavy sheets around us.
James didn't move. He just stared at me, drenched and undone. And then, suddenly, he stepped forward.
"You still haunt me," he murmured.
Before I could answer, his hands cupped my face—and then he kissed me.
Not gently.
Not hesitantly.
He kissed me like a man who had waited years. Like he'd thought of this moment a thousand times. His lips were warm despite the rain, his body pulling me in as the world around us dissolved.
My hands pressed against his chest—but I didn't push him away.
I couldn't.
For one perfect second, I forgot the pain, the exile, the rumors, the rules.
I only remembered the boy who used to sneak me chocolate…
And the man who now kissed me like I was the only thing he ever wanted.
But just as quickly as it began, I pulled back.
Breathing hard. Heart pounding.
"This can't happen," I said.
"Why?" he asked, his forehead resting against mine.
"Because I don't trust you," I whispered. "Because I don't even trust myself."
The elevator behind me dinged open.
I stepped back, leaving him standing there, soaked and silent.
But as I rode the elevator up, I touched my lips.
They were still trembling.
And I knew something terrifying in that moment:
I was falling all over again. Not for Ethan. But for James Windsor.