My Long-Lost First Love Is My New Roommate

"What investigation?" I demanded.

Julian didn't look at Adrian. He kept his eyes locked on my face. The warm, coaxing boyfriend from this afternoon was completely gone.

"Two months into our relationship," Julian said, his voice terrifyingly even. "We went to that rooftop party. You drank four margaritas."

My stomach turned to ice. "I don't remember that night."

"I do." Julian took a step closer, leaving the takeout bags on the island. "I carried you to bed. You wrapped your arms around my neck, pulled me down, and whispered his name."

The blood drained from my face.

"You called me Adrian," Julian clarified, letting the syllables hang in the quiet apartment.

I swayed on my feet. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

"I hired a private investigator the next morning," Julian continued. "I needed to know exactly who I was competing with."

"You kept that from me for a year?" I asked.

"You kept him in your head for a year." Julian grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the front door. "We're leaving."

I didn't fight him. I couldn't look at Adrian.

The ride in Julian's town car was suffocating. Neon streetlights flashed across the leather interior, illuminating the hard line of Julian’s jaw. He stared straight ahead, both hands gripping the steering wheel. He had dismissed his driver.

We hit a red light. The car jerked to a halt.

Julian finally turned his head. "That first time we slept together. Were you thinking of him?"

The question felt like a slap.

"Pull over," I ordered.

"Answer the question, Elena."

"I said pull the damn car over!"

He swerved toward the curb and slammed on the brakes. I shoved the passenger door open and stumbled onto the damp sidewalk. The night air hit my hot cheeks.

Julian was out of the car a second later. He slammed his door so hard the glass rattled.

"Don't walk away from me!" he shouted.

I spun around. "You want to humiliate me in the middle of the street?"

Julian closed the distance between us. He ripped away the last shred of his gentle facade. "I can accept that you have a past. I can accept that you loved someone else before me. But I cannot accept holding you in my arms while you have another man in your heart."

"I don't have him in my heart!" I screamed.

"You let him move in!"

"I didn't know!" I shoved his chest. "And what about you? You dug through my past like it was a corporate merger. You investigated my ex. How does that make you any better than him?"

"It makes me the guy who stayed," Julian fired back. "He left you."

"You don't own me, Julian."

"I protect what's mine."

"I am not a piece of property." I stepped back, wrapping my arms around my waist. "Go to your penthouse. I'm going for a walk."

He didn't follow me. The engine roared to life, and the town car sped away, leaving me alone on the dark pavement.

Two hours later, my phone buzzed with a news alert.

*Pro-Racer Adrian Miller involved in severe crash at qualifier.*

I told myself it wasn't my problem. I told myself to keep walking toward my favorite diner. Instead, I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address to the nearest trauma center.

I sprinted through the sliding glass doors of the ER. The fluorescent lights blinded me. I pushed past a group of nurses, scanning the chaotic room until I found curtain number four.

I yanked the fabric back.

Adrian sat on the edge of the examination bed. A white bandage wrapped tightly around his ribs. A nasty cut ran along his left cheekbone, and his racing suit hung off his waist.

He looked up. A slow, knowing smile spread across his bruised face.

"You still came," he said.

His voice stripped away every excuse I had prepared. I crossed my arms, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

"I saw the news," I muttered. "I wanted to make sure I didn't need to find a new roommate."

"Right." Adrian leaned back against the pillows, wincing slightly. "Always practical."

"Don't flatter yourself. I would have done the same for anyone."

"You ran a red light to get here, didn't you?"

"I took a cab." I glared at him. "Are you dying or not?"

"Just a fractured rib." His dark eyes locked onto mine. The amusement faded, replaced by that heavy intensity I hated. "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Breaking up."

"No," I lied instantly.

"Then why did all the color leave your face when you walked through that curtain?"

"Because you scared me!" I snapped, my voice echoing in the small cubicle. "You crashed a car at a hundred and forty miles an hour. I panicked because you're like a brother to me."

Adrian's jaw tightened. He pushed himself off the bed, ignoring the pain. He stepped right into my space.

"We slept together," Adrian said, his tone dropping to a dangerous rasp. "Don't go claiming family ties."

My phone rang. The shrill ringtone shattered the tension.

Julian's name flashed on the screen.

I answered it, turning my back to Adrian. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Julian asked. His voice was clipped, still carrying the anger from our fight on the street.

I glanced over my shoulder. Adrian watched me, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm at a friend's house," I said smoothly. "I needed some space."

"Fine. Come home when you're done pouting." Julian hung up.

I lowered the phone. When I turned around, the atmosphere in the room had turned toxic.

"A friend's house," Adrian repeated.

"It's none of your business."

Adrian stepped closer, trapping me against the metal tray table. "When you were with me, you never lied for another man."

"I wasn't lying for you. I was avoiding a fight."

"You're hiding me."

"I'm leaving." I grabbed my purse from the plastic chair.

Before I could take a step, Adrian's hand shot out. He grabbed my wrist. His grip was firm, grounding me to the spot.

"I bought a ring," he said.

The words froze the air in my lungs. I stared at his hand gripping my wrist, then slowly looked up at his face.

"What?" I whispered.

"Three years ago." Adrian didn't blink. "I bought a ring. I just didn't know how to ask."

I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Stop lying. You couldn't even tell me you liked me, but you bought a ring?"

"Cartier," he said, his voice dead serious. "Platinum band. Oval cut. Size six. I bought it the week before you packed your bags."

My heart pounded against my ribs. Size six. My exact size.

I yanked my arm out of his grasp. "You're crazy."

I turned and ran out of the emergency room, ignoring him calling my name.

I didn't go back to my apartment. I couldn't face the empty rooms or the shattered glass still sitting in the kitchen sink. I went straight to Julian's penthouse.

The massive apartment was completely dark. Julian was likely asleep in the master bedroom.

I kicked off my shoes and walked quietly down the hallway. A thin strip of light spilled from beneath the study door. I pushed it open, intending to turn off the lamp.

The room was empty. The mahogany desk was covered in neat stacks of paper.

I reached for the lamp switch. My fingers brushed against a thick manila folder sitting dead center on the leather blotter.

The cover was stamped with a red confidential seal.

I flipped it open.

My own face stared back at me. It was my college graduation photo.

Beneath the picture, bold black letters spelled out a title.

*Elena Moretti. Background Check.*

I flipped to the second page. Bank statements. Medical records. A list of every address I had ever lived at. Transcripts from my university.

Julian didn't just investigate Adrian.

He investigated my entire life.