Chapter 7 – The Man in the Mirror
The next morning, Clara woke up to a text from Ethan.
Ethan: We need to talk.
She stared at her phone. "You really don't waste time, do you?"
Half an hour later, he was standing in her small, cozy apartment — a billionaire in a space that smelled like cinnamon and cheap candles. He looked wildly out of place.
"Coffee?" she asked sweetly. "Oh wait, you don't do warmth."
"Clara," he said, tone clipped. "Thomas Vance approached you for a reason. I need to know what he said."
She crossed her arms. "You mean besides staring like I was the dessert menu? Nothing."
Ethan frowned, scanning the room as if it might hold answers. "He's not the type to act without purpose."
"Well, I'm not the type to be dragged into billionaire wars, but here we are," she shot back.
He ignored that. "Until I find out what Vance is after, I want you under protection."
Clara blinked. "Excuse me? Protection? Like… bodyguards?"
"Like me," he said simply.
She stared at him. "You? Living here?"
"I'll have someone monitor the building," he corrected coldly.
"Oh, thank goodness," she said with mock relief. "Because I thought you were volunteering to share my couch."
His eyes flicked to the couch — tiny, floral, and squeaky. "I'd rather sleep on the street."
"Same!" she said brightly.
For the first time, his lips twitched in genuine amusement. "You're insufferable."
She smiled. "You're welcome."
But later, when he left, her laughter faded. The look in his eyes before walking out — sharp, unreadable — lingered.
He wasn't just protecting her. He was calculating something.
And Clara had the unsettling feeling that whatever it was… she was part of it.