The café was warm, filled with the comforting hum of voices and of steaming milk. Martha sat across from Ethan, her arms folded, her eyes burning with questions she refused to leave unanswered.
"You haven't touched your coffee," she said, voice low but edged with fire. Something happened?."
Ethan shifted in his seat, his fingers curling around the untouched cup of coffee. He hated the way her gaze cut straight through him—as though she could see the secrets he had buried deep.
"I had dinner with a friend last night," he said finally, his tone measured, deliberate. "Dinner. Too much wine. The night… got messy."
Martha's jaw clenched. "Messy?" she repeated.
He leaned back, his expression unreadable.
But even as the words left his mouth, guilt curled in his gut. He hadn't told her everything—not how calculated Sally had been, not how much of it he hadn't fully resisted. The truth, the whole truth, would break or mar them. And he wasn't ready to see that fire in her eyes turn into ash.
Silence pressed between them, thick and suffocating. Ethan's heart hammered in his chest. Why did he even bring up the topic, he question himself. He had a strong urge to tell her more. He wanted to tell her more than just last night. He wanted to spill everything. But the words jammed in his throat.
Instead, he reached across the table, his hand brushing hers, firm and steady. Martha froze, startled by the sudden tenderness in his touch.
"Love," he whispered, his voice low, "is something I don't give easily. But with you… it terrifies me how much I want to." I love you Martha, do you feel the same way?
Ethan, My heart beats for you since the first time I saw you at the grocery store. She responded.
Ethan leaned in. His lips pressed against hers in a kiss that was both desperate and electrifying—unexpected, stealing the breath from her lungs.
Martha's heart raced, her body caught between doubt and longing. She hadn't asked for this. She hadn't prepared for this. And yet… she couldn't deny the way her soul shivered at the taste of him.
When he pulled away, his eyes lingered on hers—dark, conflicted, unreadable.
Then, without another word, Ethan stood, dropped a few bills on the table, and walked out of the café, leaving Martha stunned, her lips tingling, her heart in chaos.
---
After the Kiss
The door swung shut behind Ethan, the faint jingle of the café bell still echoing in Martha's ears. She sat frozen, her hands wrapped around a lukewarm cup of coffee, her lips still tingling where his had touched.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly, every heartbeat louder than the chatter of strangers around her. She wanted to be furious—furious that he had given her only half the truth, furious that he thought a single kiss could erase the shadows of his mistakes.
But she wasn't furious.
Not really.
She was trembling. Longing. Confused in a way she couldn't admit, even to herself.
Martha pressed her fingertips to her lips, closing her eyes. Ethan Cole. The man was a contradiction she couldn't untangle. He was guarded, secretive, infuriatingly stubborn—and yet, in one unexpected moment, he had made her feel like the ground beneath her feet was no longer steady.
She barely knew him. She knew fragments of him: the sharp wit in his words, the loneliness hiding in his eyes, the power he carried like a second skin. But not the whole truth. Not the man himself.
And still… something inside her strongly yearned for him.
It terrified her.
She had built her life on convictions, on fighting for justice, on chasing the truth no matter the cost. And now? Now she was thinking about a man who had kissed her in silence and walked away, leaving more questions than answers.
Her hands tightened around the coffee cup, as though it could ground her. But the only thing she felt was the memory of his lips, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air.
Martha opened her eyes, staring at the empty chair across from her.
"Who are you, Ethan?" she whispered under her breath.
The café bustled on around her, oblivious to the storm unraveling inside her chest.
And for the first time in years, Martha Rivers wasn't sure if the fire in her heart was driven by her mission for truth—
or by the dangerous pull of a man she barely knew.
---
ColeTech Headquarters
The glass walls of ColeTech's headquarters framed the New York skyline like a painting. Normally, Ethan found comfort in its order—the rise of steel and glass, the city pulsing like the empire he had built. But today, none of it mattered.
The papers on his desk blurred. The numbers on the screen made no sense. Every thought, every breath, circled back to one thing: Martha Rivers.
The kiss.
Her stunned expression.
The way she'd looked at him as though torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
Ethan dragged a hand down his face, groaning under his breath. He couldn't afford this. Not now. Not with the weight of ColeTech on his shoulders, not with secrets buried under every boardroom decision. And yet… she had slipped past every defense he had built.
A sharp knock pulled him from his thoughts, followed by the click of heels against polished marble. He didn't need to look up. The scent of expensive perfume gave her away.
"Ethan," Sally's voice rang out, sharp and demanding. She shut the door behind her without waiting for permission. "We need to talk."
He leaned back in his chair, forcing his expression into neutrality. "Sally, I'm in the middle of something."
"You'll want to hear this," she insisted, tossing a glossy magazine onto his desk. The headline blared in bold letters about "a rising Tiktok influencer calling out corruption in the beauty industry". Martha's face was printed across the page, her eyes fierce, her voice quoted in bold.
Sally jabbed a manicured finger at the article. "She's everywhere, Ethan. She's ruining everything I've built. My brand is bleeding, my investors are panicking—and you're sitting here like none of it matters!"
She is after my life Ethan. She blurted. His chest tightened, his mind drifting back to the kiss in the café.
"Ethan!" Sally snapped, her voice pulling him back. "Are you even listening to me?"
He blinked, realizing he hadn't heard a word. His fingers tightened around the magazine, knuckles pale.
"Yes," he lied, his voice low. "I heard you."
But the truth was written all over his face—his thoughts weren't with Sally, or the crisis she was unraveling about. They were trapped somewhere else, with someone else.
With Martha Rivers.
---
Sally narrowed her eyes, studying him. For a moment, the only sound in the office was the faint hum of the city far below. Ethan Cole was always sharp, always precise. Nothing rattled him—ever. But today, his gaze was elsewhere, his mind slipping through her fingers.
"You're lying," she said finally, her voice cool and cutting.
Ethan looked up, startled. "Excuse me?"
"You didn't hear a word I just said." Sally folded her arms, tilting her head. "You've been… different lately. Distracted.
Her manicured nail tapped the magazine still clutched in his hand.
"Her," she repeated, venom lacing the word. "The social media influencer."
Ethan's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He had no clue what Sally is saying, all his thoughts are with Martha. Silence was safer for him.
Sally leaned closer, her perfume filling the space between them. "Tell me something, Ethan. Is there a woman?
For a fraction of a second, Ethan's eyes flashed—too fast for most, but not for Sally. She caught it, and a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips.
"Oh," she breathed, her tone dripping with satisfaction. "She is, isn't she?"
Ethan stood abruptly, tossing the magazine onto the desk as if to break the tension. "We're done here, Sally. Focus on fixing your image crisis."
But Sally wasn't fooled. She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a whisper that sliced through the air. "Careful, Ethan. Obsessions make men reckless. And reckless men lose everything."
She turned on her heel, heels clicking against marble, leaving the office with the same sharpness she'd entered.
Ethan exhaled, sinking back into his chair. He stared at the skyline beyond the glass wall, his reflection faint against the glass. Sally was right about one thing— There is someone.
She is determined to find out.
---
Ethan pressed his palms against his desk, jaw tight, trying to will away the storm clawing at his chest.
A soft knock followed almost immediately. Then the door opened, not waiting for permission.
"Wow," a deep, steady voice said. "Haven't seen Sally that riled up, is everything okay?."
Ethan glanced up. Standing in the doorway was Daniel Hayes —his oldest friend, and one of the very few people in the world who knew Ethan beyond the mask of ColeTech's faceless CEO.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with sleeves rolled up and a careless grin, Daniel stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His tone was light, but his eyes—sharp and observant—missed nothing.
"You okay?" Daniel asked, sliding into the chair across from him. "She practically screamed the roof off. Half the floor must've heard."
Ethan exhaled, running a hand across the back of his neck. "Sally has… issues."
Daniel chuckled. "That's one way to put it. But I've known you long enough to recognize that look, Ethan. You weren't listening to a single word she said, were you?"
Ethan didn't answer. His silence was louder than any admission.
Daniel leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "So, who is she?"
Ethan's head snapped up. "What?"
"That look in your eyes—the distraction, the way your mind's been somewhere else for weeks. Come on, man, I've seen it before. Back in college, when you fell for that girl in Boston? You had the same face then. Except this time…" Daniel smirked knowingly. "It looks worse."
Ethan let out a sharp breath, trying to shake off the accusation. "It's complicated."
Daniel raised a brow. "It always is."
For a moment, silence stretched between them—the city humming faintly outside, the truth hovering dangerously close to Ethan's lips.
Daniel Hayes wasn't just a friend. He was Ethan's anchor—the one person who kept his secrets safe, who had stood by him through the rise of ColeTech's empire. And if there was anyone he could confess to, it was him.
Still, Ethan hesitated. Because once spoken aloud, his feelings for Martha Rivers wouldn't just be a distraction. They'd become real.
---
Daniel leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms like a man settling in for a long interrogation.
"You've been zoning out in meetings," Daniel said casually, though his tone carried weight. "Even the board noticed. You never miss a detail, Ethan. But last week? You let an intern finish your presentation."
Ethan gave a small, humorless laugh. "She was competent. I thought she deserved the chance."
"Mmhm," Daniel drawled, unconvinced. "Or maybe your brain was too tangled up elsewhere."
Ethan didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he turned his gaze to the skyline beyond the glass walls. New York sprawled endlessly, alive and merciless. Yet, in the blur of steel and glass, all he saw was Martha—her fire, her lips parted in defiance…and in his memory, against his.
His fingers tightened around his pen until the metal creaked.
Daniel sighed. "See, that right there—the faraway stare. You're somewhere else, man. And it's not spreadsheets or mergers."
Ethan forced his expression into neutrality, his CEO mask slipping back into place. "I'm fine, Daniel. Just…burnt out."
Daniel chuckled, but his eyes searched Ethan's face. "You? Burnt out? That'll be the day. You thrive on this pressure. Something else is gnawing at you. And I don't buy for a second that it's Sally."
The name made Ethan flinch inwardly, though he kept his jaw steady.
Daniel leaned forward again. "Look, I'm not asking you to spill your secrets. But if you're in the middle of something—someone—you'd better figure it out quick. Distractions have consequences. Especially for a man like you."
Ethan finally looked at him, and for a flicker of a second, the mask cracked. "I know," he said quietly.
Daniel studied him, then nodded slowly. He wasn't going to press—not yet. But the weight of his unasked questions lingered in the room.
Standing, he straightened his sleeves. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But don't forget, I've got your back—even when you're too damn stubborn to admit you need it."
With that, he left Ethan alone with his thoughts.
The door clicked shut, and silence rushed back in. Ethan sank into his chair, Martha's face burning in his mind, her voice louder than Sally's tantrum, louder than Daniel's warnings, louder than the entire city outside.
For the first time since ColeTech's rise, Ethan Cole—the man who held everything together—was unraveling.
---