The Swapped Ceo

Chap 5: The Collision

Trumpets blared on the coming of a new day. The airport was a cacophony of sound and movement: waves of passengers streaming through the terminal, footfalls pounding off brilliant floors, and overhead booming announcers rumbling through loudspeakers. Outside, engine rumblings mingled with travel voices; intermittently, cries of infants erupted in the tumult that typified the boisterous city center. Outside the glass doors, horns beeped in rhythm of frustration, and the wheeling of suitcases echoed back behind their bearers.

Through it all, Liam steered his delivery cart, filled to capacity with boxes of every size and shape, through the mess. He ducked his head, his cap low over his eyes, his mask covering the rest; this made him a ghost in the crowd.

"Excuse me, coming through!" he yelled, skillfully dodging a frazzled woman juggling coffee cups and a screaming toddler.

He exhaled, the sound muted behind his mask. This city never stops moving, and neither do I. His bitter reflection rose up as though to remind him of the constant cycle of his life. Liam was not a self-pitying man, but there were days—most days, really—when he simply could not help but feel that he was merely a cog in an unrelenting machine.

Ahead, a group of businessmen stood in his way, waving their arms as they discussed something Liam couldn't have less interest in. "Out of the way, please!" he grumbled, pushing his cart forward just far enough to have them move out of the way without trouble.

Liam could not be late. His boss would yell at him if a single package arrived late. Like his paycheck wasn't already thin enough.

At the same time, Lucas disembarked from his jet and onto the runway in shoes that were highly polished and appeared to strike the ground with a deliberate exactness, nigh upon planned—nearly as planned as all of his actions tended to be. Steely winter air buffeted the shoulders of his black coat, but he paid it no mind. His features were sharp as ever, his face chiseled out of granite, radiating authority and power.

Behind him, his secretary, Miss Charlie, hurried to keep pace, clipboard in one hand and phone in the other, the very picture of calm efficiency—though the worried look in her eyes told its own story.

"Sir, you have a busy day ahead of you," she had the temerity to point out, her voice professional and guarded. "Would it not be better to let me handle the rest of the arrangements while you remain at the hotel?"

Lucas did not slow, and he did not bother to look in her direction. "I don't need rest," he growled back. "I'm here to get the job done, not waste my time."

Miss Charlie stumbled, her voice placating. "But your health—"

"I said that is all," Lucas interrupted her, his tone firm, shutting down further debate. He stood right outside the doors of the terminal. "Inform my grandmother of my arrival. I'll be seeing you later at the vehicle."

Miss Charlie opened her mouth to object but thought better of it. She curtsied low and then proceeded to make the call, glancing back once with some lingering worry.

Lucas stepped into the terminal, and the airport swallowed him up. He strode along with his usual assurance, commanding attention without even trying. The heads turning were unobtrusively enough; people's eyes would follow to the good-looking man in the tailored coat, but Lucas didn't notice.

Liam had just come to the drop point for one of his parcels when the strap on his cart caught on an adjacent bench. "You have got to be kidding me," he said under his breath, stooping down to untie it. His fingers moved efficiently, his hands honed by repeated such incidents.

Rising to look at the address sticker on the next box, he heard a muted crash somewhere in the area, and his eyes snapped in that direction, landing momentarily on a lanky figure with an angular overcoat, brushing himself off from being pushed.

Lucas's brow creased into a frown as the hooded stranger he had bumped into apologized hastily and bowingly before disappearing into the crowd. A prickle of anger touched his chest. Rude, he muttered to himself, though he was not in the mood to waste breath on it.

But as he continued ahead, something in the stranger's demeanor bothered him—a fleeting glance, a step back. Lucas scrunched his face up, brushing aside the idea. He had bigger concerns to deal with.

Or at least he attempted to.

Within seconds, Lucas's world began to change.

His vision blurred, the terminals dissolving into amorphous blobs. There was the low thrumming that shook through his head, becoming denser with each movement. His leaden limbs clogged up beneath him. He stumbled and was halted by his fingers against the railing.

What in the world is going on? A flash of anger flared in his chest as he tried to steady himself, his jaw grinding at the flood of pain. This was so much more than tiredness—he knew now something was amiss.

As his knees buckled beneath him, his eyes flickered to the crowd. And that's when he saw him.

The hooded man stood a couple of feet away, gazing at him. His face was obscured by a mask, but his eyes were gleaming with something evil. Then, when he sensed Lucas's gaze, the man smiled.

A mocking, self-important curl of the lip.

The apparition shivered down Lucas's spine. What… happened to them? But before he could form another thought, his body fell entirely.

Liam hadn't even had time to react to what was happening before the man ran into him, both of them landing on the floor. Packages went flying in all directions, rolling across the slick floor as Liam tried to sit up.

"What the—?" he began to say, his words catching in his throat when he saw the man lying against him.

Lucas paled and reddened with rising fever as he searched for an explanation. His eyes flickered open briefly, glassy and unfocused, before he closed them again.

"Hey! You okay?" Liam shook him lightly, desperation creeping into his tone. The man did not stir.

It was surreal—the entire experience was so unreal. A moment before, Liam's day had been run-of-the-mill, close to dull. And here he was, holding a stranger who was out cold in his arms with no idea what to do.

"Someone help!" Liam shouted above terminal chaos. People paused and reversed direction, the murmurs building as airport staff ran toward him.

Liam swiveled around to get a glimpse of the man, truly seeing his face for the first time. The man looked somewhat familiar, though Liam wasn't entirely certain why. He ruffled his hair. "Wake up, okay? Don't. Don't die on me or anything," he muttered aloud, as if the man were able to hear him.

His phone rang in his pocket, jolting him back into reality from his looping thoughts. It was a notification for his upcoming delivery.

Liam was conflicted, struggling with the unconscious man and duty. The airport officials were already sweeping in, moving the stranger onto a stretcher. "Your turn's over," Liam convinced himself, retrieving his dislodged packages and placing them on his cart.

He pushed the cart aside, glancing once over his shoulder as a tickle of nervousness danced through his belly. The face of the man lingered in his thoughts, along with a queasy, indistinct sense of guilt.

There was no time for it.

Liam had things to do.