It was supposed to be nothing.

Charleston. A hotel bar. He sat a few stools down, leaning casually against the bar, drink in hand. Navy suit. Dark hair. I thought he was maybe 25—just enough older to feel daring, but not too much to seem like a red flag.

His name was Rafe. No last name. No details. Just him.

We didn’t date. We didn’t talk about anything. Just late nights, quick texts, stolen moments when we needed a break from everything else. It was supposed to be fun. Addictive. No strings.

Then came the work trip.

My dad called last-minute. “Come meet some people,” he said. Business people. Colleagues. I groaned but agreed, tossing on a dress and mentally preparing for a weekend full of stiff handshakes and boring small talk.

We walked into the grand lounge, and I was half-distracted by my phone. Then my dad suddenly stopped and turned to me. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I barely looked up as he led me toward a man standing by the windows. Tall. Dark. Navy suit. The same guy I had spent late nights with. The same guy I had thought was maybe 25—but it was him.

No. No way.

My dad called out, “Rafe!” like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Rafe turned.

Everything slowed down. I felt my heart freeze. There was no way.

His eyes locked on mine. A flicker of panic flashed across his face, but he hid it quick. The shock on both of our faces was impossible to ignore. I blinked, trying to make sense of it all.

And then my dad—completely oblivious to everything happening—smiled and said, “This is my daughter.”

Rafe’s entire posture shifted. He looked at my dad, then back at me. His face paled for a second before his expression hardened, like he was bracing for impact.

He extended his hand, voice tight but smooth. “Pleasure to meet you.”

I shook his hand, the tension unbearable. This was impossible. I forced a smile. “You too.”

My dad kept talking, oblivious. “Rafe’s been helping me with some projects lately. You two must have a lot to talk about!”

We both just nodded, silently cursing this entire situation.

I’m 21. I never knew he was 30. I never knew he worked for my dad.

We weren’t strangers. But right then? We had to act like we were.

The moment hung between us. My heart raced. I felt like I was caught in some awkward rom-com, the kind where everything you thought you knew turns upside down.

Now, we had to pretend we didn’t have history. Pretend like the chemistry didn’t still buzz in the air.

And worst of all? We had to survive the weekend.