It was morning. I slowly opened my eyes to the soft golden rays slipping through the blinds, only to meet the quiet sight of Ethan's back turned toward me. For a moment, I panicked. My pulse quickened as I looked around.
Wait—this wasn't my room. Or was it?
I sat up quickly, only to find myself fully clothed. Nothing had happened. My clothes were intact, no signs of chaos or mistakes. Just... Ethan, standing by the mirror, adjusting his cufflinks with the grace of a man who belonged in a magazine cover shoot.
His scent lingered in the air—something crisp, clean, and impossibly alluring. It filled the room like the subtle fragrance of morning flowers after rain. I'd always known Ethan was an attractive man, but something about this morning—seeing him like this, intimate but untouched—made it feel different.
The past few weeks had changed everything.
Spending time with him had opened my eyes to a side of him no one else probably saw. Sure, he could be arrogant, egotistical, and unreadable. But there was comfort in his presence. A quiet steadiness. His cold exterior had thawed, just a little. And though he still remained emotionally distant, there was a gentleness that crept in sometimes—like now, when he carefully styled his hair and sprayed cologne, unaware of the fact that I was watching him like he was the most captivating painting I'd ever seen.
Then he turned suddenly, catching my gaze.
"Good morning," he said, his voice deep and calm like a tranquil sea.
"Good morning," I managed to whisper back, trying to hide the way my cheeks flushed under his gaze.
"I'll be gone for two days. Business trip," he said casually, adjusting his watch. "So you have the house to yourself. Figured you'd like that."
A few weeks ago, I would've danced at the idea. But now? Now, my heart sank at the thought of not seeing him for two whole days. Especially when I was planning to ask if I could start joining him at the office to better understand our dynamic. That dream was pushed aside.
"Yeah, that's okay," I replied, forcing a smile.
He paused by the doorway, looking at me with a faint smirk. "By the way... you snored last night. You sure you're okay?"
My face turned crimson. "I—I'm fine," I said quickly, feeling my palms grow clammy.
He chuckled under his breath and added, "Well, while I'm away, make sure you enjoy yourself. It won't be long before I come back to... obstruct."
He teased.
He teased.
Was he flirting? Joking? Teasing? And here I was, burning up like a kettle ready to scream. My insides twisted, not from embarrassment anymore, but from something deeper. Longing. Need. Desire.
Get a grip, Lena.
This man is a no-go area. He is your boss. Your fake husband. Your emotional minefield.
I scrambled off the bed before he could notice how red my face had become and walked to another room, slamming the door behind me. I leaned my back against the wood, sliding down until I sat on the floor, burying my face in my hands.
Was this... love?
If it was, I was doomed.
How could I possibly survive these feelings with him around—emotionally distant, physically tempting, and impossibly out of reach? Hiding it would become harder with every day. And Vivian? She'd make it ten times worse.
I'm such an idiot.
I dragged myself to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and tried to compose myself. Knock knock. I rushed to the door, half-hoping—no, fully hoping—it was him, that he hadn't left yet, that he'd say goodbye properly and let me breathe in his presence one last time before he vanished for two days.
But no. It was the maid.
"Ma'am, Sir Ethan asked me to tell you he's left already."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, hiding the disappointment flashing across my face. "Oh, that's fine. He told me earlier," I lied, brushing it off like it didn't sting.
I sat on the bed, eyes darting to my phone.
No text. No call. Not even a voicemail.
I told myself I wouldn't care if he didn't call. But deep down, I was hoping. I even considered calling him—pretending it was something about the script, or a silly update on school—but stopped myself. He might read through it, suspect my feelings, and that would be a disaster.
I went back into his room—our room, technically—and the scent of him hit me again. God, it was everywhere. It was intoxicating.
I found myself at his mini wardrobe, where he kept his perfumes, robes, and neatly folded joggers. One towel, slightly damp, still held his scent. I looked around as if someone might catch me—even though I was alone—and I brought the towel close to my face.
Just for a moment.
That was enough. I had to stop. This was getting out of hand.
I returned to the kitchen and made breakfast I couldn't eat. I scrolled through my phone for distraction.
One voicemail.
My heart skipped.
Was it Ethan?
Nope. Ashley.
"Hey Lena, you're not in school today. Professor Charles asked of you?"
Great. Apparently, Ethan had assigned the oldest professor in my department to keep tabs on me. I sent a lame excuse. "Hey Ash, I had to do some research. Took a day off."
Then, like a fool, I scrolled to Ethan's name. My finger slipped.
Dialing… Ethan.
Oh no.
It went to voicemail.
I panicked. I had to say something, anything, to make it not weird.
"Hey Ethan. Just checking whether you settled well. Bye."
Send.
Oh. My. God.
What have I done?
I didn't mean to actually send it. I was supposed to draft, review, then not send. Now I had to live with the consequences. We never texted. Never called. This would look... desperate.
I waited the whole day. Every buzz from my phone made my heart jump. But there was no reply.
Silence.
The kind that screams.
I tried not to cry. Or care. But the more I waited, the more it hurt. Maybe he saw it and thought I was too needy. Maybe he was laughing.
By the time 2 a.m. rolled around, I had given up.
Buzz buzz.
My phone lit up again. I hesitated. But something told me—this time—it was different.
Voicemail from Ethan.
I stared at the screen like it was a gift from heaven. My fingers trembled as I pressed play.
"Hey Lena... don't know whether you're still awake. The meeting went on for long—I had to switch off my phone. It's nothing personal, not replying fast. Thanks for checking up on me."
My eyes widened. He appreciated it?
He noticed.
He cared.
"That's the least I can do," I whispered to myself, hugging my phone to my chest like it was him. "If you'd let me, Mr. O'Martins."
Sleep came easily after that.
For the first time in weeks, I smiled as I drifted off, his voice still echoing in my ears.
And I knew one thing for sure—
Whatever this feeling was, it wasn't going away anytime soon.