Chapter 13
[ 1,196 words ]
Katia’s POV
“I’d love to, but I exhaled. “I kind of want to race. Just one lap. You know, clear my head, feel the thrill again. Win one for me p>
Sam smirked. “A celebration lap. I’ll get the car ready after work p>
I nodded, and as she turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the black screen of my iPad, sharp red lipstick, no-nonsense bun, tailored Armani blouse, and I barely recognized the girl I used to be. The girl who was once kicked out wearing nothing but a robe.
The second Sam left, I slumped back into my chair. The smile faded. I stared at the iPad; the words blurred. I wasn’t reading.
I was spiraling, because behind the billion-dollar deal, behind the ink and the boardrooms and the champagne… was the man. The man I never saw again. The stranger who’d changed everything.
The father of my son. The man who gave me Aiden.
My memory of that night was a locked vault. A blur of velvet darkness, whiskey on his tongue, and hands that made me forget where I ended and he began. His voice sometimes visited me in dreams, low, commanding, and warm.
But never his face. Why can’t I fucking remember his face?
The door to my office slammed open, and Delia walked in. Since I came back, they act like everything is fine since they asked for forgiveness. I sighed and stared at her.
She wore four-inch designer heels clacking against marble like a battle cry.
“Boundaries are myths in my family,” I muttered.
“Katia!” Delia sang, striding in like she owned the building. Her bright pink mini dress was weaponized femininity, and she somehow managed to look both ridiculously overdressed and effortlessly perfect. “Please tell me you’re coming to my engagement ceremony p>
I locked my iPad and smiled thinly. “You’re not even engaged yet, and you’re already giving bridezilla energy p>
Delia flopped onto the couch like she was in a telenovela. “You are married, technically. But you’ve never even said who Aiden’s father is p>
I gave her my practiced smile, diplomatic and so fucking controlled. “He’s a very busy man p>
“Uh-huh.” She arched a perfect brow. “Busy or imaginary p>
“Delia p>
She raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. But seriously, why haven’t you told anyone? You’ve been keeping his identity a state secret. I mean, I’m your sister p>
“I’m also a CEO with a public-facing brand, an empire to run, and a son to raise. Not everything is your business p>
She looked hurt. I hated that. She was still my sister, even after everything.
“I’m here now,” she said softly. “For what it’s worth, I missed you p>
I poured us champagne and walked over. “Missed you too, brat p>
She sipped and smiled again. “Mom wanted me to invite you to dinner tonight p>
I laughed into my glass. “Of course she did p>
“She’s trying p>
“She’s always trying—trying to rewrite the narrative. I’m still the girl who disappointed her. Now with a baby and a husband p>
Delia leaned forward. “Are you coming tonight p>
“I might p>
“Can I bring a camera crew p>
“You bring a camera crew, and I’ll replace your shampoo with Nair p>
She cackled. “I love you p>
“I know p>
With a final wink, she was gone. A pink tornado in Chanel heels.
I glanced at the clock; it was two hours until Aiden’s school pickup. Plenty of time to wrap up the last few calls and sign off on the WEG paperwork.
The Windsor Empire Group. WEG.
The company I now had a contract with. The most powerful conglomerate in the country—hotels, resorts, arenas, aviation, tech. Rumor had it their CEO was a ghost. No interviews. No public appearances. Just shadows and rumors.
Funny. Because I’m married to a ghost too, but I refused to let people know that my husband is a ghost. That’s why I wear my ring like armour.
The sun dipped lower by the time we reached the track. My car was already there, a sleek McLaren Sabre, gleaming under the overhead lights like it had secrets of its own.
“This is your celebration lap,” Sam reminded me. “Don’t get reckless p>
“Have you met me p>
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I’ve known you too long. Just don’t wreck the car. We’ve got WEG eyes on us now p>
I smirked, lowered my visor, and slipped into the driver’s seat. For twenty minutes, nothing mattered. Not the stranger, not even WEG.
It was just the hum of tires, the rush of speed, and the beautiful clarity of the track.
When I finally peeled off my helmet and walked toward Sam, she was already on the phone with someone.
She ended the call and smiled. “Dinner’s at 7. I booked a driver. Not the Rolls this time. Something a little more aggressive p>
“Tell me p>
“Lamborghini Urus. Matte black. Brand new p>
I grinned. “Perfect, but I’m not going. They annoy me. They want this dinner because they want something from me. Let’s focus on work,” I said, unclipping my helmet and tossing it to the backseat like it didn’t cost more than most people’s homes.
Sam arched a brow. “Kat, I know you hate politics, especially family politics—but don’t you think it might be time p>
“Time for what? A reconciliation dinner with people who shoved me into the cold like I was nothing p>
“You’re not nothing. You never were,” she said, voice low but firm.
“Tell that to the girl they kicked out in a bathrobe,” I muttered.
She stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “And look who that girl became p>
I gave her a wry smile. “She became a savage p>
“She became a boss; you already showed them that you are a queen at the last dinner with them,” Sam corrected.
We walked toward the car, the Lamborghini’s lines as sleek and unapologetic as I felt. As I slid into the passenger seat, I saw my reflection in the side mirror. Sharp eyes, jaw set, ring glittering under the setting sun. The ring I still didn’t understand. The ring that tied me to a faceless man and a night I couldn’t forget.
“Still thinking about him?” Sam asked as she started the engine.
“Always,” I admitted.
She didn’t press. She never did.
On the drive back into Manhattan, the city sparkled like temptation. My phone buzzed once—an unknown number. I let it ring out.
“WEG already?” Sam asked.
“Maybe. Or another nosy reporter p>
Sam shook her head. “You’ve stayed a ghost this long. I doubt they’ll crack you now p>
“I hope not,” I said. “I like my privacy. It’s the only thing that’s mine p>
Aiden’s face flashed in my mind. My little boy. My whole world.
“By the way,” Sam added casually, “Aiden’s school called. They want to know if you’ll be attending the parent-student breakfast next week p>
I groaned. “That again p>
“You missed it last year. And the year before p>
“I was in Tokyo and then Geneva,” I defended.
“Kat, you’re his mom. You could rule the world and still not get a pass on that p>
“I’ll be there,” I promised, softer now.
Sam smiled. “That’s more like it p>
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