It was a new day, but the weight of unfinished business sat heavy on my shoulders. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, sipping black coffee, eyes scanning the New York skyline without really seeing it. The image of the woman in black still haunted my mind, and the pressure from the MI6 mission was mounting. Somewhere out there, a rogue agent was moving through the shadows, and I was meant to be the one to drag him into the light.
A knock on the door pulled me back to the present. Jason walked in without waiting for a reply. He looked like he hadn't slept.
"Any movement?" I asked, setting my coffee on the desk.
He shook his head. "Nothing from the MI6 agent. But I found something else. Syndex Holding is connected to a name "Joe Daniel."
I leaned back in my chair. "Joe Daniel?"
"Yeah. Nothing on him in the human trafficking database. No criminal records. No traceable history, even on the dark web. The name is clean. Too clean."
I nodded slowly. "Then he's not real. Or at least not using his real name. Find everything you can. Cross-reference him with any known aliases, phone records, travel history."
Jason's jaw clenched. "On it."
"And Jason, keep digging into his ties to Mr. Segun. My gut tells me he's the puppet master in all this."
He nodded and left. A few seconds later, the intercom buzzed.
"Mr. Creed," Camilla's calm voice filtered through the speaker, "you have a 2 p.m. meeting with Mr. Grayson Wells."
I glanced at my wristwatch. 1:30 p.m.
"Thanks, Camilla. I'm heading out now."
I slipped into my charcoal suit jacket, grabbed my keys, and headed to my private elevator. My BMW purred to life as I maneuvered through New York's chaotic midday traffic. At precisely 2 p.m., I walked into Carter's Café.
Grayson was already seated. He stood up slightly when he saw me and gestured to the seat across from him.
"You're right on time as usual," he said with a grin.
I sat, ordered a black coffee, and we started running through updates on some of our latest real estate deals. But a few minutes into the conversation, I felt it. A shift in the air. A familiar pull that sent heat surging through my veins.
I turned instinctively. There she was.
Wearing all black, her figure moved with fluid grace. A black baseball cap and dark glasses shielded most of her face, but it didn't matter. I'd know her body anywhere.
Naomi.
Time stopped. My breath caught in my throat, and the temperature in the café skyrocketed. Her curves hit me like a bullet. That perfect balance, slim waist, thick thighs, and a full, round ass that moved like sin. Her walk was unhurried, confident, but every sway of her hips sent blood surging south.
My dick hardened in an instant, pressing against my pants. My jaw tightened, and my fingers gripped the edge of the table.
She turned slightly. Her head shifted in my direction. Our eyes locked.
Even behind those shades, I felt it. That electricity she looked away.
"Michael?" Grayson's voice cut in, yanking me back to the tab
I looked back, in a blink, she disappeared into the crowd. Gone.
I blinked, forcing myself to refocus.
But the burn of her presence lingered.
She was alive.
And she was here, don't get me wrong i saw her shadows in the warehouse the other night but seeing her here, in close proximity, in my city did things to me.
The ghost I couldn't forget just walked back into my world.