Selena Moore hated surprises.
Especially the kind that wore thousand-dollar suits and stared at her like a ghost from the past.
She stepped into the boardroom, portfolio clutched tight against her side, heels clicking on polished marble. It was just another meeting. Another contract. Another luxury hotel design job.
Until she saw him.
Jared Cole.
Sitting at the head of the conference table like he still ruled the world—and her heart.
Selena stopped in her tracks.
No warning. No buffer. Just Jared. Alive, flawless, and dangerously composed. Time had done nothing to soften his sharp jawline or the piercing storm-gray eyes that now held hers captive. Five years had passed since she walked out on their marriage, yet here he was.
And he looked like he'd been expecting her.
"Miss Moore," he said, his deep voice smooth and cool, like silk pulled over ice.
"Mr. Cole," she replied, managing to keep her tone neutral. She crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps and chose the seat farthest from him.
He hadn't changed. He was still the epitome of power and control. Except now, there was something darker behind his eyes—something unreadable.
The rest of the team filtered in. Assistants. Developers. Project managers. They all greeted Jared with respect, deference. Of course. He was still Jared Cole—the billionaire hotel mogul with a reputation as cold as the empire he'd built.
Selena tried to focus as the presentation began, but her thoughts churned. This was supposed to be a simple high-end renovation. No one told her Jared was behind it.
No one said she'd be working for him.
He said nothing through the meeting, just watched. Like he always did. Observing. Calculating. Quietly pulling strings like the puppet master he was.
After what felt like an eternity, the others filed out—off to review contracts and design scopes. Only she and Jared remained.
He stood slowly. "You haven't changed."
Selena rose too, lifting her chin. "Neither have you. Still full of surprises."
"I requested your firm for a reason."
"You tricked me into this."
"I offered you the biggest project of your career."
"And didn't think I deserved to know who was behind it?" she snapped.
Jared's gaze held steady. "If you had known, would you have come?"
She didn't answer.
"That's what I thought," he murmured.
Selena swallowed hard. "Why, Jared? Why now?"
He didn't blink. "Because I needed someone I could trust with this hotel. Someone with taste. Vision. Someone who understands what legacy means."
"That's a convenient excuse," she muttered. "Is that all this is to you? Business?"
Jared's silence was too long. Too loud.
She shook her head. "Don't worry. I'll finish the job. But after that, you and I go back to what we were."
He arched a brow. "Which was?"
"Strangers," she said.
Jared took a step toward her. "That's not what we were, Selena."
"No," she agreed softly. "But it's what we are now."
And before he could say another word, she turned and walked away—head high, heart pounding, pretending that seeing him again hadn't unraveled every scar she thought had healed.
The last person Selena Moore expected to see in the conference room was Jared Cole.
Yet there he was.
Sharp suit. Cold eyes. A jaw so tense it could cut glass. Time hadn't softened him—it had chiseled him further. His presence sucked the air from the room.
Selena's heels faltered as she stepped through the glass doors. Her assistant was mid-sentence behind her, but the words sounded distant, like an echo through a storm.
He looked up. Right at her.
Five years. No contact. Not a word. And now—this.
Her ex-husband.
Jared's gaze didn't flicker. No blink. No shock. Just that same unreadable expression that used to drive her mad. Calm. Controlled. Cold.
"Miss Moore," he said, standing slowly. "Thank you for coming."
Selena cleared her throat. "I... I thought I was meeting with the project manager."
"You are," he said. "That would be me."
She almost laughed. Of course.
"You're the client?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.
"I'm the investor," he corrected. "It's my hotel."
Of course it is.
The assistant excused herself awkwardly, sensing the storm brewing beneath the polished surface.
Selena crossed her arms. "You could've mentioned that when your assistant called me."
"I didn't think it mattered." His tone was cool, businesslike.
"It does," she snapped. "I don't work with ghosts from my past."
He smirked. Just a little. "You work with billionaires. Or have you changed your policy?"
She ignored the dig. "I'm not doing this."
"You came this far," he said, motioning toward the seat across from him. "Might as well hear the pitch."
"I didn't come here for you."
"No," he said. "You came for the opportunity. Which, like it or not, still involves me."
Selena stared at him. The nerve of this man. The sheer arrogance.
But beneath that—something else. Something quieter. Sadder, maybe.
Jared gestured again. "Sit. Please."
Reluctantly, she lowered herself into the chair. Her pulse throbbed in her ears. Her spine was steel.
"This is a luxury renovation," Jared said, sliding a folder across the table. "Downtown Manhattan. 48 floors. You'll have full creative direction."
She opened the folder with stiff fingers. Renderings. Floor plans. A massive budget.
It was the kind of project designers begged for.
But he was the catch.
Selena closed the folder. "You could've hired anyone."
"I wanted you."
She froze. "Professionally, I mean," he added, but his voice lacked the usual confidence.
Selena stared at him. "Why now?"
Jared looked away. Just for a second. "Because I've seen your work. You've built something incredible. I thought you might want the challenge."
A beat passed between them. Heavy. Unsaid things weighing down the silence.
Finally, Selena stood. "I'll think about it."
Jared nodded once. "I'll wait."
She didn't say goodbye. Just walked out with her heart pounding and a bitter taste in her mouth.
He still had that effect on her.
Damn him.
into the story.