Chapter 5 Where did she go

Bennet Landon

The soft glow of morning light seeped through the curtains, nudging me awake.

The bed was cold beside me. My arm reached out instinctively, but my fingers met nothing but untouched sheets.

For a moment, I kept my eyes closed, piecing together the fragments of last night.

The girl from last night. The taste of whiskey on her lips. The way her body fit against mine. The quiet moans that slipped from her when I touched her.

I opened my eyes.

She was gone.

I pushed myself up, scanning the room. She wasn't here. No traces of her except for the lingering scent of her. Something light, floral, almost intoxicating.

Then my eyes caught something.

A small piece of paper on the bedside table.

I reached for it, my fingers tightening the moment I read the words written on it.

"Last night never happened. Don't look for me"

I stared at the note for a long moment, my jaw clenching.

I turned it over, half expecting a name, a number or something. But there was nothing.

No name. No explanation. Just a warning.

A slow, humorless chuckle escaped me.

I'd never been in this kind of situation. Women would be dying to spend a night with me but I never let that happen.

Countless times I had to put restraining orders on who managed to go on a date with me.

But her?

She erased herself completely.

And the worst part?

It was working.

She was already slipping through my fingers, and I didn't even know her name.

I exhaled sharply and put the note aside.

I'm just going to forget her. Like she said, Last night never happened.

I showered, got dressed, and headed to my office, ready to lose myself in work.

Meetings. Contracts. Calls.

I had a company to run, and I didn't have time to be distracted by a woman I would never see again.

But the more I tried to focus, the more my mind betrayed me.

I could still see her.

The way she had looked at me last night like she wanted to forget something.

I could still hear her voice.

The way she looked when she took her clothes off, the way she had moaned under me.

I clenched my jaw, shifting in my chair.

This was ridiculous. I had a one night stand with her, and now she was haunting me like a ghost.

For the first time in my life, I felt something unsettling.

Curiosity.

And I hated-

"Sir"

I blinked, realizing My assistant Andrew was standing in front of my desk, holding a tablet.

I exhaled, rubbing my temple. "What?"

He hesitated, then cleared his throat. " It's about the meeting with Mr. Coleman this morning. He's agreed to the terms, but he wants a follow-up in two weeks to finalize the contract."

I nodded absentmindedly. "Fine."

Andrew shifted on his feet. "We also need your approval on the logistics report for the expansion project in New York. The documents are in your inbox."

New York. Right.

I should be focusing on that. On my company. On things that actually mattered.

But instead, my mind kept drifting.

Where did she go after she left? Was she even thinking about last night? Or was I the only idiot stuck replaying it in my head?

"Sir?" Andrew prompted.

I exhaled sharply. "Yeah, I'll look at it later."

Andrew nodded, but I caught the slight furrow in his brow the way he hesitated before speaking again.

"Are you okay, sir?"

I gave him a sharp look. "I'm fine."

He didn't look convinced but he knew better not to push.

By midday, I had enough.

I grabbed my phone and scrolled to a name I rarely called unless I needed answers.

Nate Calloway.

A former intelligence officer turned private investigator. Ruthless. Efficient. And one of the few people I actually trusted.

The line rang twice before he picked up.

"Bennett," Nate greeted lazily. "Are you calling to confess a crime or commit one?"

I ignored him. "I need a name."

A pause. "A name?"

"The woman from last night," I replied my voice low and measured. "Find out who she is."

Another pause, followed by a slow, amused chuckle. "Well, well. The great Bennett Landon, chasing after a one-night stand? Didn't see that coming."

I exhaled sharply. "Are you going to help me or run your mouth?"

"Relax, man. Just enjoying the moment."

I rolled my eyes. "I met her at the Grand Royal bar. Brunette hair. Hazel eyes. Looks like she could ruin you if she wanted to."

Nate let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's specific."

"She left before I woke up," I continued. "No name. Just a note telling me not to look for her."

There was a brief silence before Nate muttered, "Oh, this is good."

"Nate."

"Alright, alright. I'll dig."

"Everything. I want everything on her."

"You got it."

I hung up.

This was insane. I was insane.

Later that evening, the report landed on my desk.

I leaned back in my chair, flipping through the pages.

Then I saw her name.

Hilary Windsor.

I stilled.

I kept reading.

A designer. The older daughter of Vivian Windsor.

And then, I realized,

Emily Windsor's sister.

I set the papers down slowly, my fingers tightening around the edges.

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped me.

No.

Of all the women in this damn city.

The one who had slipped into my bed, consumed my thoughts, and disappeared like a ghost...

Was the sister of the woman I was supposed to marry.

My chest tightened. My mind spun.

I picked up my phone and called Nate again.

"Where is she now?" I demanded.

A pause.

"That... might be a problem."

My fingers curled into a fist. "Explain."

"She's off the radar," Nate said. "No recent transactions. No known location. It's like she disappeared overnight."

I clenched my jaw.

She was running.

Not just from me. From everything.

And for the first time in years, I felt something slipping out of my control.

Maybe this was the moment to let it go. To go back to how things were.

Since when did I let a woman get under my skin?

I exhaled, my grip tightening around the report.

But as the silence lingered, only one thought remained.

"Where did she go?