Page 21 of In Another Time

“Omir, right?” she asked, her voice smooth, with a hint of playfulness.

“That’s me,” I said, flashing a polite smile. “How can I help you?”

“Actually, I was hoping to help you,” she said, leaning a little closer. “I’ve heard great things about this place, but I have to say, seeing the owner in person makes it even better.”

I chuckled lightly, my usual charm kicking in. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Welcome to the club.”

“Thanks,” she said, her eyes locking onto mine. “I’m Anya, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Anya,” I said, extending a hand.

Instead of shaking it, she let her fingers linger against mine for a moment too long. “Likewise.” There was a beat of silence, and I knew what this was. She wasn’t here to compliment the club. She was here for me. “So,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “does the owner of this fine establishment ever take a break to enjoy life outside? Or are you always this busy?”

Her confidence was magnetic, and under different circumstances, I might’ve been completely drawn in. But as I looked at her, the image of Lennox crept into my mind again. Her wit, her fire, the way she’d left me both satisfied and frustrated after our last encounter.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then, I pushed the thought aside. Lennox made her choice. She wasn’t here, and I wasn’t about to sit around waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen.

“I think I can make an exception one of these nights,” I said, my smile widening as I leaned against the bar. “What are you drinking?”

Her smile deepened, triumphant. “Surprise me.”

I nodded to the bartender, signaling for a bottle of champagne. “How about we start with a glass of something celebratory?”

“Perfect,” she said, her hazel eyes sparkling.

As the bartender poured the champagne, Anya and I fell into easy conversation. She was charming, quick-witted, and clearly knew how to hold someone’s attention.

The champagne flowed, the jazz music swelled, and the crowd buzzed around us. Maybe this was what I needed. A fresh start. Something—or someone—to help me quickly get Lennox out of my system. And tonight, Anya seemed like the perfect place to start.

LENNOX

Iran my fingers through my fresh silk pressed hair, admiring the sleekness in the rearview mirror. “Self-care,” I muttered to myself as I pulled out of the salon parking lot.

The Thursday afternoon sun was relentless, glinting off the windshield as I drove through the city. I had one more day, one day to decide if I was going to uproot my life for this promotion. “President,” I said aloud, testing how the words sounded coming from my lips. A small part of me swelled with pride, but the larger part felt. . . unsure.

The offer was everything I’d worked toward. The culmination of late nights, canceled vacations, and every time I’d chosen my career over everything else. But Chicago wasn’t just another city; it was a fresh start. A clean slate. And wasn’t that what I always said I wanted?

I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, my mind flipping through the pros and cons for the thousandth time. Chicago meant advancement. Bigger paychecks, bigger opportunities, bigger lifestyle.

It had been two weeks since I’d walked out of Omir’s office, and I couldn’t stop replaying every moment we’d spent together. The pull between us was undeniable, even when I tried to convince myself it was just physical. But was it? As I hit a red light, I sighed, gripping the wheel tighter.

“Get it together, Lennox,” I scolded myself. I wasn’t the kind of woman who let a man cloud her judgment. But Omir wasn’t just any man.

Before I knew it, I found myself driving toward his neighborhood, the streets growing quieter and more residential as I got closer. I told myself I was just. . . checking in. Closure. Maybe even goodbye. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I had to see him. My heart raced as I parked across the street, my palms slick against the steering wheel.

I stepped out of the car, adjusting my blouse nervously. The house was quiet, the curtains drawn, and I hesitated at the foot of his driveway, debating whether I should turn back. “Stop being ridiculous,” I whispered, steeling myself as I climbed the three steps to his door. Just as I raised my hand to ring the doorbell, the door swung open, and I froze.

Omir stood there, bare-chested in a pair of low-hanging basketball shorts, his tattoos on full display against his chiseled chest. His skin gleamed faintly, like he’d just showered—or done something else. Behind him, a gorgeous woman followed, her hair disheveled in that unmistakable “just woke up” way. She was tall, with smooth skin, full lips, and a figure that made my heart sink.

“Oh,” I blurted, my voice sharper than I intended.

Omir’s face was blank, his dark eyes giving nothing away as he glanced at me. The woman leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, her hand brushing his arm. “I’ll call you later,” she said, her voice light and flirtatious.

“Cool,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Her gaze flickered to me, lingering just long enough to make me feel small, before she walked past, her heels clicking against the pavement as she headed to her car.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, my chest tight as I watched her drive off. My throat burned with the effort it took to keep my composure.

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