Bellamy POV
“Miss Bellamy Beau?”
The voice was calm, low, and oddly melodic—almost like a villain in a movie who knew too much. I blinked hard and forced myself to look up.
The man behind the massive oak desk tilted his head and gave me a well-rehearsed smile. “Take a seat.”
I swallowed hard. My feet felt glued to the carpet, my body suddenly frozen between panic and disbelief.
They both looked at me—one from behind the desk, the other lounging on a deep leather couch in the corner, legs crossed, eyes unreadable. Identical faces. Identical smirks. Identical everything.
But there was no hint of recognition. No smirk. No flirty wink.
Just… polite professionalism.
I sat down slowly, hands clenched tightly in my lap, my legs shaking under the table.
“So,” the one on the couch said, his voice slightly rougher, colder, “you look nervous, Miss Beau.”
I gave them a faint, shaky smile. “I… I just had a rough morning.”
The two men exchanged a glance, and for a moment, something shifted in the air between them—something tense and silent.
“So did we,” they said in unison.
It sent a chill down my spine.
Oh my god, I thought, this is even more confusing than I imagined.
The one behind the desk folded his hands and leaned forward slightly, all charisma and confidence.
“Let me properly introduce us,” he said, with a charming smile. “I’m Max Forsythe. CEO of Forsythe Enterprises. And the man sulking in the corner,” he said with a teasing glance, “is my twin brother, Tristan.”
The one on the couch—Tristan—didn’t respond. He just looked out the window, jaw clenched, as if he’d rather be anywhere else.
Max extended his hand across the desk. I shook it quickly. Firm grip. Polished nails. Watch that probably cost more than my home back when I had one.
“Welcome, Miss Beau,” he said. “We’ve looked over your resume. You’ve got solid credentials. Let’s dive in.”
And just like that, the interview began.
“What experience do you have working with high-scale financial systems?”
“I used to handle the books for a medium-sized logistics firm,” I said, finding my voice. “I developed automated balance sheets and worked closely with the auditing department.”
“Team experience?” Max asked, his tone light but sharp.
“I was team lead in my final year,” I replied. “Supervised three others during year-end audits.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “What made you apply here?”
“Because…” I hesitated, glancing quickly at Tristan, who was now watching me silently. “I want to start over. I need a new beginning.”
Max’s expression softened. “You’ll find a lot of people in this company have similar stories. We’re rebuilding too.”
“Also,” I added, trying to sound confident, “your company is expanding into hospitality, and I’ve always been passionate about both finance and travel.”
“Ah, someone’s been reading up,” Max said, impressed.
I tried not to blush.
He continued with more questions—technical stuff, some behavioral. I answered all of them, praying my voice wouldn’t crack or my face wouldn’t give away just how badly I wanted to run out of the room and scream.
Meanwhile, Tristan didn’t say a word. He just sat there, arms crossed, like this whole thing annoyed him. But every once in a while, I’d catch his eyes drifting toward me. And staying.
Still, nothing in his face told me if he remembered last night.
Was it Max I slept with?
Max was charming, funny, confident—just like the man in the bar. But Tristan… there was something under that cold exterior. Something broken and familiar.
I was spiraling, drowning in questions.
Suddenly, Max closed the folder in front of him and stood. “Well, Miss Beau, we’ve made our decision.”
I looked up.
“You’re hired.”
My mouth fell open. “Just like that?”
Max grinned. “Just like that. We need someone sharp. Someone who knows how to handle messes. You seem like a fighter.”
I exhaled, shaking. “Thank you. Really. Thank you so much.”
“We’ll send over the contract by this afternoon,” he said.
Just then, Tristan stood up abruptly, pushing his hands into his pockets. Without a word, he turned and walked toward the door.
Max glanced over his shoulder. “Tristan?”
Tristan ignored him and walked out, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.
Max sighed. “He’s not really the people type.”
I looked at the door, my heart thudding again.
The way Tristan walked. The way he looked at me.
Was it him?
Max chuckled. “Don’t let him scare you. He’s harmless.”
I gave a stiff nod, still lost in my thoughts. Because harmless wasn’t what I remembered from last night. What I remembered was heat. Hands on my skin. Kisses like salvation.
A voice whispering things that made me forget my name.
But which one had whispered them?