The storage room at Violet's art gallery had been giving her trouble for days. The lights flickered unpredictably, and tonight, they had finally gone out completely. With a sigh, she grabbed a small flashlight and made her way inside, determined to fix the fuse box by herself. Everyone had already left, and the silence of the empty gallery only amplified the sound of her footsteps.
She wasn't an electrician, but she'd seen Jade do this before. How hard could it be?
Balancing on a wobbly step ladder, she reached for the panel, muttering under her breath about how she needed to hire someone for this. Just as she unscrewed the panel's cover, she felt a spark shoot through her fingers. With a yelp, she lost her balance.
For a terrifying second, she braced herself for the fall... but it never came.
A strong pair of arms caught her, steady and firm, the grip familiar in a way that sent her heart racing. The lights flickered back on, illuminating Ethan's face inches from hers.
She froze.
He was standing there, holding her securely, his grip solid around her waist. His eyes locked onto hers, intense and searching, as if he had been caught just as off-guard by this moment as she was.
Violet sucked in a sharp breath, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Ethan's hands were firm around her waist, steadying her as if he had no intention of letting go. The light above flickered, casting an almost cinematic glow over them. For a moment, everything was silent... just the two of them standing close, breathing in the same charged air.
She willed herself to move, to break away, but her body refused to listen. It was infuriating, the way Ethan had this effect on her, the way her body betrayed her even when her mind screamed at her to stay away. His gaze burned into hers, intense and unwavering.
"Still as clumsy as ever, I see," he murmured, the teasing lilt in his voice making her pulse jump.
His fingers flexed slightly on her waist before he finally loosened his hold, allowing her to step back. The moment her feet touched the ground properly, she put more distance between them, pretending the warmth of his hands hadn't seared into her skin.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, trying to ignore the warmth still lingering where his hands had been.
Ethan leaned casually against the doorframe, as if he hadn't just saved her from face-planting onto the floor. "You tell me. You're the one who almost got electrocuted."
"I was handling it just fine," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Sure you were," his gaze flicked to the mess of wires behind her.
"You can leave now," Violet exhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay composed.
"Or… I could stay and help. You know, so you don't end up destroying your own gallery," Ethan didn't move.
She wanted to argue, to tell him she didn't need his help. But the truth was, she had no idea how to fix this, and she wasn't about to let her stubbornness burn down the place.
"Fine," she grumbled. "But no talking."
"No promises," Ethan smirked.
Ethan stepped past her, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he crouched in front of the fuse box. Violet stood behind him, arms crossed, telling herself she was only letting him help because she didn't want to deal with this mess any longer. Not because his presence was throwing her off balance. Definitely not.
She watched as he worked, his fingers effortlessly navigating the tangled mess of wires. It irritated her how easily he seemed to fix things... after all, he was the one who had broken so much between them.
"Why are you even here?" she asked, unable to keep the question in any longer.
"I was passing by. Saw the lights flickering through the window," Ethan didn't pause, simply twisting a wire into place before answering.
"You were passing by?" Violet narrowed her eyes.
"What? You don't think I might've just missed the place?" he looked over his shoulder, smirking.
"I think you might've lost your way and accidentally ended up inside my gallery," she scoffed.
"You always did have a wild imagination," Ethan turned back to the fuse box, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.
The casual way he said it made something in her chest tighten. He was different now... he still had that same confidence, that same teasing edge... but there was something softer in his voice. A quiet persistence.
A spark flickered, and suddenly, the lights above them blinked back on.
"There. No more flickering lights to match your moods," Ethan stood up, brushing off his hands.
"Great. Now you can go," Violet rolled her eyes.
He stepped closer, invading her space just enough to make her breath hitch. "You're always so eager to get rid of me," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "But then, why do I get the feeling that if I leave, you'll still be thinking about me?"
Violet's jaw clenched. She took a deliberate step back, creating distance between them. "That's your problem, not mine."
Ethan watched her for a moment, his gaze unreadable.
Then, slowly, he smirked. "We'll see."
And with that, he walked past her, making his way to the door.
Violet let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Damn him.
Even now, after all these years, Ethan Sinclair still knew exactly how to get under her skin.
The next day, Violet told herself she wouldn't think about last night. About Ethan showing up. About how his hands had felt steady around her waist. About how, for just a second, she had looked into his eyes and felt...
No.
She shoved the thoughts aside as she busied herself at the gallery. A few new paintings had arrived for the upcoming exhibition, and she was determined to lose herself in work.
But, of course, fate had other plans.
"Impressive collection."
The sound of his voice sent an immediate shiver down her spine. She turned sharply to find Ethan standing in the middle of the gallery, hands in his pockets, looking completely at home.
"What are you doing here?" Violet's jaw clenched.
"I wanted to see your work," Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"You built this place from scratch. I'd say that's worth admiring," he gestured around.
"You don't even like art," she folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.
"True. But I like watching you pretend you don't care that I'm here," he smirked.
"You can leave now," Violet exhaled slowly, refusing to let him get under her skin.
"Or," he said, stepping closer, "I could stay and pick out a painting. Maybe you'll even give me a discount."
"I'd rather set them all on fire," she let out a dry laugh.
"Still dramatic," Ethan chuckled, tilting his head as he studied her.
Before she could fire back, she heard footsteps approaching. Jade.
"Oh, look who decided to visit," Jade said, smirking as he took in the scene. "Ethan Sinclair, back from the dead."
"Not quite, but close," Ethan gave a lazy shrug.
"Well, this is fun. Violet, you didn't tell me we had VIP guests today," Jade's gaze flickered between them, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Because we don't," Violet shot him a warning look.
"So, how long are you planning on hovering around?" Jade ignored her, turning to Ethan.
"Until she stops running," Ethan glanced at Violet.
"I'm not running," Violet scoffed, grabbing a framed painting and walking away.
"Really?" Ethan called after her. "Because every time I show up, you seem to disappear."
She kept walking, refusing to engage. But in her hurry, she didn't see the small stack of books left by the counter. Her foot caught the edge, and suddenly, she was stumbling forward.
Before she could crash, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her just in time. Again. The moment stretched as she felt Ethan's grip tighten slightly, his face inches from hers.
"You should really be more careful," he murmured, amusement flickering in his eyes.
Violet's face burned. She jerked away, straightening her shirt as if that would somehow restore her dignity. "Maybe you should stop sneaking up on me."
"Or maybe you should just admit that you missed me," Ethan smirked.
"This is getting good," Jade let out a low whistle.
"You are insufferable," Violet shot him a glare before turning back to Ethan.
"And you," Ethan said, stepping back with an easy grin, "are still terrible at hiding what you feel."
She clenched her fists, willing her heart to slow down.
He was getting to her. And he knew it. But she wouldn't let him win. Not this time.
"Enjoy the gallery," she said coolly before turning on her heel and walking away... without tripping this time.
Ethan's chuckle followed her, the sound annoyingly warm, annoyingly familiar.
This wasn't over. And they both knew it.