The moment you walked into the room, the air shifted.

You hadn’t seen him in years, but Sebastian Stan looked exactly the same—and nothing like you remembered. His hair was shorter now, his jaw sharper, his suit too expensive for someone who once swore he’d never sell out. He didn’t even look surprised to see you. Just… annoyed.

“Of course,” he muttered, his voice low and cutting. “It had to be you.”

You stiffened, clutching the file in your hands tighter than necessary. “Trust me, I’m not thrilled either.”

His laugh was bitter, humorless. “Funny, that’s not what you said the last time we saw each other.”

Your chest tightened at the memory you’d spent years trying to bury. Late nights, whispered promises, a fight that ended with words you could never take back.

The project briefing droned on in the background, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat and the weight of his gaze.

You’d both sworn you were done with each other. Finished.

But now, trapped in the same room with him again, you weren’t sure if you were ready for the war—or the temptation—that was about to follow.