Ella
“We’ve got ten house specials today, sir. What can I get started for you?”
My voice came out smooth. Professional. Detached.
Inside, my pulse was a riot.
Kane didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back in his chair, long fingers drumming lazily against the polished wood of the table. His eyes—those impossibly dark, unreadable eyes—never left my face.
Not my glasses.
Not the menu.
My face.
I told myself I was imagining it.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen years since anyone had seen the real me.
The real Ella.
The girl who used to trail behind him down dusty streets, who used to steal mangoes from Mrs. Fenton’s backyard and swear him to secrecy. The girl who had vanished without explanation, swallowed whole by circumstances he would never understand.
There was no way he could recogni
