When Ethan mentioned he would be leaving for a two-week business trip, Isabela didn't hesitate. She moved with quiet efficiency, pulling out his cases and arranging every shirt, tie, and cufflink with the same meticulous care she had seen in fashion spreads. Her research paid off each outfit chosen not just for utility, but to ensure he made a statement at every meeting, dinner, or press encounter.
But the more she studied his official itinerary, the less it looked like "just business." Something about it prickled her instincts, especially after that tense visit from the mysterious man days before.
The night before his departure, the penthouse air shifted like a sudden storm when Ethan's brother arrived. His presence carried a chill cold, condescending, and impossible to ignore. Every word from his mouth dripped with subtle disdain, as if everyone in the room existed to disappoint him. Ethan stiffened the moment he entered, his jaw tight, his silence more telling than words. The brothers' differences were not just in temperament, they seemed carved from entirely different stones.
Later, while Isabela labeled his freshly pressed suits in the closet, Ethan came in. His expression was guarded, shadows playing across his face, but she coaxed out a smile. They spoke and laughed softly, their banter creating a fragile bubble of normalcy, until Tom appeared in the doorway.
His eyes narrowed, assessing them with a predator's sneer. "How cozy," he remarked with biting sarcasm. "I see you've found a new hobby, brother, closet conversations with the help."
The words cut like glass, leaving the air thick with hostility.
After Tom left, Ethan sought her out in her room. He leaned on the doorframe, his voice low and raw. "I'm sorry, Isabela. For him. For the things he says." His gaze dropped briefly, before rising again. "Don't let him get to you. Please."
He hesitated, then added quietly, "He'll be staying here while I'm gone. I wish I could change that."
Isabela lifted her chin, her calm steady. "I've dealt with worse than sharp tongues. He won't rattle me. My concern is whether I can keep from snapping back."
Ethan chuckled softly despite himself, though his eyes lingered on her face longer than usual. He admired that fire, yet feared it might clash dangerously with his brother's cruelty.
Ethan's private thoughts:
That laugh in the closet, the way she looked at me, it felt like sunlight in a storm. And then Tom barged in, like he always does, ruining what little peace I found. He sees her as a staff. But I… I can't unseen her strength, her calm, her quiet defiance. When I leave tomorrow, I'll worry less about the deal and more about leaving her alone with him.