Chapter 1: The Elevator Ride

Emma Rivers clutched her tote bag tighter as the elevator rose to the 25th floor of Torres & Co. The soft chime of each passing level was like a countdown in her chest.

It had been six years since she’d last seen him.

Six years since that golden afternoon in the schoolyard, when Jamie Torres smiled at her like the world paused.

Now, he was the CEO of one of the fastest-growing creative firms in the city. And she—well, she was about to become his secretary.

She didn’t mean for it to happen this way.

After quitting her job at a smaller agency, Claire, her best friend, had nudged her toward this one. “It’s professional, classy, high-paying,” she’d said. Emma hadn’t even noticed the CEO’s name until the interview was already scheduled.

“Floor twenty-five,” the elevator announced.

Emma inhaled.

The doors slid open.

The office was sleek and modern—glass walls, polished wood, and minimalist furniture. People buzzed like quiet bees, dressed in black and gray and navy. Everything was efficient. Controlled.

A woman in a pencil skirt greeted her. “You must be Emma Rivers. Mr. Torres is expecting you.”

She led Emma past rows of desks and into a private corner office.

And there he was.

Jamie Torres.

Older. Sharper. Broader. Dressed in a tailored suit, his dark hair still slightly messy like he couldn’t be bothered to tame it. His eyes lifted slowly from a file—and met hers.

Something flickered there.

Recognition.

A shadow of a smile.

Then nothing.

“Miss Rivers,” he said, standing. “Welcome to Torres & Co.”

His voice was deeper. Calm. Controlled.

“Mr. Torres,” she replied, her mouth dry.

He motioned toward the chair in front of his desk. “You’ll be assisting me directly. Calendar, communications, confidential files. My previous assistant took a role overseas, and I need someone I can rely on. Your record impressed me.”

Emma sat slowly. “I’m... honored to be considered.”

Jamie studied her, just a beat too long. “I trust we won’t have any... unfinished history to distract us?”

Her heart stuttered.

“No, sir.”

He nodded once, businesslike. “Good. You start tomorrow.”

And that was it.

No mention of the letter she wrote him in eighth grade.

No mention of the kiss behind the school.

No sign he’d ever even known her more than professionally.

She left his office in a daze.

Claire met her by the elevator. “How’d it go?”

Emma swallowed. “He remembers me.”

Claire blinked. “You know him?”

Emma forced a small smile. “I did. Once.”

As the elevator descended, Emma leaned against the mirrored wall and let herself breathe again.

She’d thought time would dull it—the flutter, the ache, the invisible string.

But standing across from Jamie Torres felt like standing in front of a storm she'd never truly left.

She wasn’t twelve anymore.

And neither was he.

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