Chapter 35 — Ethan: Something About Her
(Ethan's POV)
I told myself it was just business.
That I had come back to the city for meetings, contracts, and maybe a quiet weekend to unwind.
But that was a lie.
I came because of her.
Arya.
Even after everything, after watching her return to Damon, I still found myself orbiting her world like a fool who didn't know how to break free. I wasn't planning to show up at her door or beg for her love—I wasn't that pathetic. But I wanted to be near her. To feel like maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as far from her life as I felt.
I checked into my penthouse at The Voss downtown and sent her a message. Just a friendly hey, I'm in town. No pressure. No expectations.
She replied two hours later.
Going out tonight with Damon. Hope to see you this weekend though?
I read the message once.
Then again.
And then tossed my phone across the bed.
I knew it. Of course they were together tonight. I had no right to be annoyed, but I was. The frustration buzzed under my skin like electricity with no outlet.
I needed to get out.
I showered, threw on a black button-down and tailored slacks, ran a hand through my hair, and called a driver.
Destination: Hollow Lounge.
Dark. Expensive. Loud. Exactly what I needed to forget the way Arya's name still tasted like regret in my mouth.
The music pulsed through the floor when I stepped in, a mix of bass-heavy rhythm and low, sensual lighting. My presence didn't go unnoticed. A few women turned, eyes scanning, lips parting with interest. I was used to that.
I wasn't looking for love.
I was looking to escape.
I ordered a whiskey and made my way to the upper level, overlooking the dance floor. People moved like liquid—laughing, touching, forgetting.
And then I saw her.
She stood by the bar below, alone but not uncomfortable, her head tilted slightly as she studied her drink. Long black hair fell in soft waves down her back, and her dress—short, wine-colored, strapless—hugged her in all the right places.
She was stunning.
But it wasn't just her beauty.
There was something about her… something that made me stop breathing for a second.
She looked out of place, but not in a bad way. Like she was trying to blend in, but didn't quite belong to this kind of night.
She sipped slowly, eyes distant, as if trying to convince herself she deserved to be here.
I took the last gulp of my whiskey and made my way down.
I don't normally approach women like that anymore. Not since Arya. But tonight, I needed a distraction.
She didn't see me at first.
She was too lost in whatever thoughts were swirling behind her quiet expression.
"Rough night?" I asked, leaning against the bar beside her.
She turned—and our eyes met.
Big, soft brown eyes. Clear and curious.
She blinked, surprised. "What?"
I smiled, keeping it casual. "You looked like your mind was somewhere far away."
She hesitated for a beat, then returned the smile—small, cautious. "Something like that."
"Can I buy your next drink?"
She studied me, her gaze flicking from my face to my watch, my shoes, my shirt—assessing. Not in a gold-digger way. More like she wasn't used to being approached by men like me.
"Sure," she said finally.
I signaled the bartender. "Another for the lady. And one more whiskey for me."
She introduced herself as Mara.
I didn't recognize the name.
We talked.
Not deeply. Nothing too personal. But there was a softness to her words, a hesitant honesty that felt... refreshing. She told me it was her birthday weekend. That she just got a new job and wanted to do something bold before life got too busy.
Her voice trembled slightly when she said it.
I recognized that tremble.
It was the sound of a girl trying to feel something—anything—before she disappeared into a routine that would eat her alive.
I knew that feeling.
I saw pieces of myself in her, in the way she sipped her drink without making eye contact, in the way she fidgeted with her necklace when she was nervous.
"You ever do something reckless, just to feel alive again?" she asked, eyes searching mine.
I chuckled darkly. "Too many times."
She nodded. "I want to do that tonight."
I didn't ask what she meant.
I knew.
And part of me should've walked away.
She was young. Uncertain. She had that untouched kind of glow—something innocent still lingering at the edges. But she was also grown. Curious. And looking at me like I was the fire she wanted to get close to just once.
I leaned in slightly. "Are you sure?"
Her voice came soft, but certain. "Yes."
So we left.
Together.
I didn't ask for her last name.
And she didn't ask for mine.
Because that night, we weren't who we were.
We were just two lonely people with heavy hearts and tired hands, trying to forget the ones we couldn't have—and hoping, just for a little while, that someone else could make us feel whole.