Chapter 1
A falling planter knocked me out after a fight with my lifelong rival. When I woke up, I remembered everything. I just figured pretending otherwise might get me a little compensation.
"Who are you?" I asked.
Nathan Cole stared at me. Then he said, "Your boyfriend. We've been together for eight years."
Eight years?
He glanced at my mouth. "Want a kiss? Might jog your memory."
I'd been after his money. Apparently, he was after my lips.
Chloe's POV
Nathan Cole and I had grown up next door to each other. Our parents were best friends, and for most of our childhood, we were inseparable.
We became enemies when he was seventeen and I was sixteen.
Eight years later, we were both working in our family businesses, which gave us a whole new way to annoy each other. That morning, I marched into his office at Cole Group, convinced he'd stolen my deal with Parker Group.
"Tell me, do you actually care about the Parker deal, or is screwing me over just half the fun?" I demanded, planting my hands on his desk. "God, I hate you, Nathan."
He sat with his long legs crossed and muttered something I couldn't make out.
My phone rang before I could tell him to speak up. I put it on speaker. My project manager had news: Evan Parker's plane had landed.
Evan was back in the country. If I could get a meeting with him, I might still salvage the partnership. We'd been classmates in high school; surely that counted for something.
Nathan stood so quickly his chair rolled backward.
"Don't go to him. Chloe, there's something I need to tell you."
"I'll go wherever I want. Who are you to tell me what to do?"
I headed for the elevator without waiting for an answer.
Outside, wind tore at my coat. A hurricane was approaching the coast, and the weather was already getting ugly. I looked up just as a planter blew off a second-floor ledge.
A pothos plant. Water. Glass.
Then a sharp blow to the head.
The last thing I saw was Nathan rushing toward me, looking furious and terrified.
Was he checking whether I was dead so he could take the rest of my clients?
Unbelievable.
When I began to wake, I smelled disinfectant and heard a doctor speaking beside my bed.
"Her examination is reassuring, but she may have a mild concussion. Someone should stay with her and follow the discharge instructions. If her symptoms worsen, bring her back."
"Then why hasn't she woken up?" Nathan asked. "Could there be lasting damage?"
"She responded during the examination. She appears to be sleeping now."
I kept my eyes shut.
So I'd been knocked out, briefly, and then taken a nap. Excellent. Very dignified.
Still, an opportunity was an opportunity.
If I pretended to have lost my memory, I could demand compensation from Nathan. Emotional distress. Lost business. Having to look at his face.
I could also insist on recovering at his place. Since our parents had jetted off on a joint vacation earlier that week, he'd be the only one left to take responsibility for me. Plus, I was getting absolutely sick of corporate catering, and his housekeeper was an incredible cook.
My eyelids twitched before I'd finished developing this brilliant plan.
"Mr. Cole, she's awake," the nurse said.
Showtime.
I opened my eyes and gave Nathan my most innocent, bewildered look.
He leaned over me, holding up a hand. "Chloe. How many fingers?"
He was moving them so fast I couldn't have counted them with a perfectly intact brain.
"I don't know." I touched my forehead. "Who are you?"
He went still.
Then he turned to the doctor. "She doesn't know me."
The doctor came closer and asked me more questions. When had I last eaten? Did I remember coming to the hospital? Could I tell them my name?
I supplied a careful mixture of answers and puzzled looks. The doctor repeated part of the examination and kept me for further observation.
"Memory symptoms after a head injury need monitoring," she told Nathan. "Let us know about any changes."
He listened so intently that, for a second, I almost felt bad.
Almost.
Later, with the doctor out of the room and a nurse checking the chart, I looked at him again.
"Who are you?"
Honestly, someone should have handed me an award.
Nathan hesitated.
"I'm your boyfriend," he said, not blinking. "We've been together for eight years. We're going to get married."
My brain completely flatlined.
For a solid ten seconds, my lungs forgot how to process oxygen. I just stared at him, frantically searching his face for a punchline, a smirk—anything.
Had he caught on to my act? Was this his twisted, psychotic idea of revenge?
But his hand settled gently on my hair, smoothing it back, well away from the sore spot.
"It's okay, Coco. Try to relax," he murmured softly. "If your memory is blank right now, we'll just deal with it together. You don't have to figure it all out today. Let's just get you home."
Home? Together? The sheer audacity of this guy left me momentarily paralyzed.
One of us had definitely suffered a serious blow to the head today, but listening to this frankly deranged performance, I was beginning to wonder which one.
I narrowed my eyes, studying his face for a crack in the facade. That was when I realized his eyes were red, incredibly so—as though he'd been crying.
Must have been the wind. It was vicious out there.
He shifted uncomfortably under my intense scrutiny and cleared his throat.
"You don't believe me?" The corner of his mouth quirked up. "We could kiss. See if that feels familiar."
Before I could even process the threat, the tips of his ears turned a violent shade of red, and he quickly looked away.
"I'm kidding. Obviously. There are people here."
I just blinked at him.
He hadn't been looking at the room full of people. He'd been looking directly at my mouth.
Wait. I started this to extort him for cash. How the hell did he just spin this into an excuse to kiss me?
