Chapter 1 #3
He chuckles, a rich and comforting sound. “I always like hearing you talk about your work. I was concerned. I thought it might have something to do with Luis.” I close my eyes, silently cursing my ex-boyfriend in my heart. I broke up with the man two months ago, but he haunts me like a ghost.
“It wasn’t Luis, Marco. I’ve just been working overtime.”
“Alright. I was just checking in. I know you’re a bad cook, so I’m going to drop over some dinner for you at your place after work. I’ll leave it in the fridge.”
A smile forms on my lips. “Thanks, Marco. You’re the best.”
He pauses. “And Elena says she’s sending over some of that pineapple cake you like.”
My smile widens. “Give her my love. Her and the kids.”
“I will.”
When he doesn’t say anything further, my stomach tightens. “Why did you really call me, Marco? Was it Mamá?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Don’t be too hard on her, hermanita. She’s just worried about you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying not to let my famous temper leak through. “I know. I know she’s worried. But she should trust me that the life I’m building is the one I want. Luis made his stance clear. If you’re also going to tell me to get back with—”
“I’m not.” My brother’s voice is calm, like still water over deep currents. “If you’re not happy with Luis, you don’t have to marry him. I want you to be happy, Eve. Mamá’s just… She panics easily, you know. She’s always wanted you to settle down.”
I see the number on the elevator reach our floor, and I lower my voice. “I know. And I will. One day, when I meet the right person.”
The words have just left my mouth when the elevator doors open and a man walks out wearing a crossbody leather bag, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed.
He’s wearing a dress shirt and a dark pair of jeans, a thick wool sweater and a winter coat both draped over his arm.
Casual, yet professional enough for our department—but that’s not why I’m staring at him.
That carefully tousled blonde hair, slightly tanned skin, and those hazy blue eyes. I’d recognize this man anywhere. He’s tall—at least six foot—with broad shoulders and the kind of careless grace that speaks of athleticism. Like the sun decided to take human form just to mock the rest of us.
A sudden flutter starts in my stomach, and I dig my nails into my palm, refusing to acknowledge the stab of unwelcome attraction.
It’s just biology, I tell myself. The same way plants turn toward the sun, some women apparently turn toward men who look like they stepped out of a fragrance commercial.
Caleb Wilder.
My hand tightens around the phone, and I mutter, “I have to go, Marco. I’ll talk to you later. There’s a pest control situation I need to handle.”
Ending the call, I tuck the phone in my pants’ back pocket, my eyes pinned on the man who made my college life hell.
“You,” I breathe.
Caleb’s attention flickers towards me, and I see his eyes widen fractionally, those ocean-blue depths registering something—recollection?
surprise?—before settling back into casual indifference.
He begins walking towards me, and I brace myself.
What can he possibly say to me after all these years?
I swear, if he even thinks of rubbing the past—
“Excuse me, can you point me in the direction of the Branding and Strategy Division?”
His voice is polite with that hint of New York confidence I’d forgotten about, and the lack of recognition almost makes me stagger back. Is he kidding me? After what he put me through, he doesn’t remember me?
My jaw tightens, and I’m about to say something when I hear Iris’s voice.
“There you are, Caleb.” She smiles warmly as she approaches us.
“You’ve met Eve. Good. Eve, this is Caleb Reynolds, the new hire.
Caleb, this is Eve Lopez. She’s one of the core members of the Branding and Strategy Division.
You’ll be working alongside her and the rest of the team.
Come on in. I don’t think you’ve met everyone yet. ”
Caleb’s eyes meet mine momentarily, and I stare at him, stunned.
Reynolds?
He gives me a brief smile, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. “It’s nice to meet you, Eve.” Is it just me or is there a mocking tinge to his smile?
“Come this way.” Iris begins walking. “I’ll introduce you to the rest. You’ll also want to meet the junior staff. If you need any help with minor tasks, you assign them to the junior staff. I will be the one assigning the tasks to the core team.”
Her voice fades away as she rounds the corner to the entrance of our division. I remain behind, letting out the breath I have been holding in.
There’s no way. There’s no way he didn’t recognize me. It’s been six and a half years. That’s not enough time to forget the face of your college rival. But I force that thought away, letting another troubling thought take its place.
Iris introduced him as Caleb Reynolds. She’s wrong. The man I saw today is Caleb Wilder. And since the CEO’s surname is Wilder, it’s not hard to put two and two together. Steven was right.
He’s a corporate spy.
Does Iris know? What is Caleb’s purpose here?
I highly doubt he suddenly decided to change his surname and join Thalvyn Maritime.
Aside from Ethan Wilder’s professional portfolio, not much is known about his personal life.
He has a tight grip over how much the media shares about him, but Caleb is clearly related to Ethan.
They don’t look very similar, so they could be cousins for all I know. But their surname—
I need to talk to Iris.
I follow them inside just in time to see Iris introducing Caleb to the others.
A hard ball of unease forms in the pit of my stomach.
Why is he pretending to be someone else?
Does the CEO suspect someone from our team to be the leak?
Is that why Caleb is here? Or is Ethan Wilder using him to figure out who to get rid of?
The Wilder Group came into existence just four years ago, but I always knew Caleb was a trust-fund baby. With the way he flaunted his wealth, all his fancy cars and rich-people clothes, I never took him for someone who would ever work a white-collar job.
And yet he always maintained the highest grade point average in our program, something that always pissed me off.
I worked so hard. I worked my ass off, waiting tables to afford my semester fees, cramming in my free time, going the extra mile for each project, and yet…
How did he always stay a step ahead of me?
I’ve never hated anyone the way I despised him.
A new girlfriend each week, a new car every month, lazing away in the back of class yet somehow a better student than me.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so infuriating had he not turned to me each time our results came out with that sneer of his, the one that had other girls swooning and my blood pressure rising.
With my hands tucked in my pockets, I study him. Whatever his agenda is here, I’m not going to let him fuck up my team or my job.
He must have sensed me looking at him because he looks over his shoulder.
Our eyes meet, and he gives me that same infuriating smirk that once used to make me homicidal.
The only difference now is after years of being pushed around while finding myself in this industry, my once-famous temper has cooled down considerably.
“Iris,” I call out, with the calm determination of someone who’s about to drop a truth bomb. “Can I have a word in your office?”
Joshua yawns, his mouth opening wide enough to host a small concert. “I’m going home now. I’ll be back after lunch, or tomorrow, or when the caffeine-induced hallucinations stop. Whichever comes first. Is that okay, Iris?”
“Go, Joshua. I’ll let HR know you’ve been working overtime.” Iris nods, then turns to me. “Come in, Eve.”
While I follow Iris towards her office, Joshua grins at me, gesturing to my now-empty lunch container. “Sorry about your lunch.”
I pat his shoulder as I walk past him, giving it a firm squeeze that’s half affection, half warning. “You’re buying me lunch tomorrow. And not that sad excuse for a sandwich from the corner deli. I want actual food made by actual humans who understand the concept of seasoning.”
I close the door behind me once I enter Iris’s office. She sits down behind her desk, eyeing me with a look that says she already knows this conversation is going to give her a headache. “So, what is it?”
“It’s about Caleb. I think you’ve been—”
Her phone begins to ring with the worst timing, even worse than when my mom called during my college graduation. She lifts a finger, stopping me. “Yes?” she says into her phone.
Her brows furrow after a moment, creating that little wrinkle she gets when something doesn’t add up. “Both of them? Now?” She listens to the caller on the other end, looking even more confused, like someone trying to assemble IKEA furniture without instructions. “Okay, then.”
She sets down the phone. “Our conversation will have to wait, Eve. That was Natalie. She wishes to speak to you right now.” Her tone carries the unmistakable subtext of ‘and may god have mercy on your soul.’
“Okay,” I hesitate, my chest tightening with a different emotion. “Iris, am I about to be fired?”
Her eyes tighten around the corners. “No! You have the highest maintained KPI of this department. There’s no way you would be fired. And if Natalie tries, you come to me. I’ll talk to her.”
I feel a hint of uncertainty.
Being called to the HR Department is not very different from being called to the principal’s office. I leave Iris’s office, rattled, and head for the elevators.
When I get to Natalie’s office on the fifteenth floor, her assistant, Layla, is waiting for me. Prim and proper, large glasses hiding a youthful face, and long hair tied in an immaculate braid, Layla is the picture of professionalism. “Natalie’s waiting for you. Go right in.”