I naïvely thought my second day would be easier than the first.
That was stupid.
Nothing with Ethan Blackridge is ever simple.
When I step into the office, he's already there, leaning over his screen, perfectly still. You'd think he wasn't even breathing. His sleeves are slightly rolled up, revealing sculpted forearms I would rather not notice. I look away, but my brain has already archived the image in a dangerous corner.
"Good morning," I say quietly.
No answer.
I set my things down, determined to ignore his toxic aura. I start working when suddenly, his voice drops—sharp, precise.
"You're not paying attention."
I look up.
"Sorry?"
He turns the screen toward me. A chart I filled out yesterday appears, one red line contrasting sharply with the rest.
"This value is inconsistent."
I frown.
He spotted ONE mistake in fifty pages?
That's inhuman.
"I can fix it right now."
"Already done."
He taps his keyboard without even looking at me.
"But I wanted to know if you were capable of noticing it yourself."
Heat rises in my cheeks. Not shame. Defiance. I want to prove he can't judge me after two days.
I step closer. Maybe a little too close. But I don't like talking to someone's back.
I want him to look at me.
When I lean in, my perfume must drift through the air, because his fingers freeze. He doesn't move, as if some internal alarm just went off.
"You changed something," he says.
I blink.
"Something like… what?"
He slowly turns his head toward me.
Too slowly.
As if he's afraid of what he'll see.
"Your perfume."
My breath catches.
"Yes. I… I thought that…"
"Don't change anything in your work to please anyone."
He holds my gaze.
"Or to displease them."
I stay silent. I don't understand what he's hinting at.
"I didn't change it for… someone," I finally say.
"Good."
He leans back slightly, as if trying to restore a distance he's afraid he broke.
"Amelia."
The first time he says my name without slicing it coldly.
It sounds different in the air.
"Yes?"
"You work with me. Not for me."
I freeze for a moment. Is that… a disguised compliment? Recognition?
But before I can reply, he sits down again.
"We have a meeting in ten minutes. You're coming."
"I… I didn't know."
"You do now."
He stands, grabs his jacket, and walks to the door. I hurry to follow.
In the elevator, silence.
Not neutral.
Thick. Charged. Tense.
I feel his gaze on me before I even turn my head.
When I do, he looks away too quickly.
I bite my lip.
Bad idea.
His eyes drop instantly to my mouth.
One second.
Two.
Too long.
My heart flips.
The doors open.
He steps out as if he just got too close to an open flame.
The meeting goes surprisingly well.
Well… for him.
For me, it's torture: he talks fast, uses complex terms, and every time I speak, I feel half the conference room judging me.
But he…
He listens.
When I point out an issue in a poorly structured project, I sense some executives glaring at me. Ethan turns his head toward them, just slightly.
They fall silent immediately.
He looks back to me, expression unreadable.
"Continue."
One word.
An order.
But somehow, it gives me strength.
When the meeting ends, I pack my notes, still shaking. Ethan doesn't move. He waits until everyone leaves.
Once the door closes, he turns to me.
"You spoke well."
I almost ask him if he's going to die now that he gave me a compliment.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"But you were nervous."
I lower my eyes.
"I'm not used to speaking in front of so many important people."
He steps closer.
One step.
Then another.
As if something in him is pulling him forward against his will.
"You don't need to be afraid as long as I'm here."
I look up.
He's right in front of me.
His gaze is darker than yesterday.
More… human.
"Why would you say that?" I ask softly.
He inhales deeply.
His jaw tightens.
His eyes linger a second too long on my mouth.
"Because I can't stand the idea of someone intimidating you as much as I do."
Heat blooms in my chest.
"You still intimidate me," I blurt out.
He closes his eyes for half a second.
As if my words struck something inside him.
"Then that's a problem."
"For who?"
He opens his eyes.
His gaze burns.
"For me."
Before I can say anything, he turns abruptly and opens the door.
"Back to the office."
But his voice is no longer cold.
It trembles.
Just a little.