Aleena
The private elevator opened directly into Ethan Westwood’s penthouse, and the first thing that I noted was the quiet.
Ethan didn’t seem like a quiet person.
There were floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the living area with a beautiful view of the city.
Most of the furnitures were Dark wood and a few art pieces hung here and there in a way that didn’t try too hard but still showed class.
My mother stepped out first, already talking about how the light in the mornings would be perfect for her skincare routine.
I followed more slowly, feeling a tight knot of relief loosen in my chest when I realized the place was empty.
Ethan wasn’t here.
“You would meet Ethan when he comes back.
The driver said he’s still at the office,” Meredith announced, checking her phone.
“Some last-minute meeting.
He’ll be back later.”
A woman walked in and gave us a nod in greetings, “Miss Martins.
Please follow me.
Your room is on the second floor close to Mr Ethan’s room while your daughter’s room is close in the west wing in the first floor.”
I stumped the feeling of jealousy that flared up immediately.
I gave a quick nod, grateful for the temporary escape, and headed in the direction she pointed.
The guest room was larger than my entire apartment had been in college.
It was painted in soft gray walls.
There was a low platform bed dressed in white linen, a sitting area by the window, and an ensuite bathroom that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.
Someone had left a small vase of white roses on the nightstand.
The gesture felt impersonal and careful at the same time.
I set my suitcase down, kicked off my shoes, and sat on the edge of the bed.
For a moment I simply breathed, letting the fact that I was now sleeping under the same roof as the man who had once left me chained and aching in a private room two years ago settle.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, it was Sophia.
I answered the FaceTime call and propped the phone against the pillows.
“Okay,” she said the second my face appeared.
“You look like you are in a hotel.
Wait?
Are you there with a lover?” She asked, wriggling her eyebrows.
“Of course, not.
I’m at Ethan’s place,” I said.
“Who is Ethan?”
“My mother’s fiancé.
We’re staying here for a while.
She wants us to ‘settle in’ before the engagement party.”
“You’re living with the future stepdad already?
Damn.
What’s he like in person?
Rich-old-guy energy or actually hot?”
I hesitated, then decided on partial truth.
“Older.
Controlled.
The kind of man who doesn’t raise his voice because he doesn’t need to.
And… yeah.
He’s a little attractive.”
“Maybe he has an illegitimate hot son that you can meet and you know…”
“Soph!”
She laughed, then softened.
“Serious question though, are you okay being there?
With everything that happened with the last husband?”
I looked around the room.
“I don’t know yet.
She needs this.
The status, the security.
And I…” I trailed off.
“I just need to keep my head down and get through it.”
We talked for a while longer.
Sophia told me about a disastrous date she’d gone on the night before where the guy she went out with spent forty minutes explaining crypto and then asked if she “put out on the first date as a policy.” I laughed harder than I expected.
She asked more questions about Ethan, and I answered them without telling her that I had fucked with my mother’s fiance two years ago.
Eventually we ended the call and I had been so tired from the whole emotional ride and from work so I just went straight to sleep.
I woke to see that it was already dark outside.
The clock on the nightstand read 9:07 p.m.
I had slept straight through the evening.
My stomach made a sound to remind me that I had slept through dinner.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling and debating the merits of simply going back to sleep.
Hunger was a manageable thing, I tried to tell myself.
But my mind kept going back to the kitchen.
I had glimpsed it briefly during the tour.
I moved carefully, keeping close to the wall, my heart beating a little faster than it should have been.
It felt like trespassing, even though my mother was set to marry the man who owned all of this.
I rounded the corner into the main living area, and I saw that there was light spilling from the kitchen.
It’s probably just the staff.
I stepped into the doorway, my mouth already forming a quiet apology for the intrusion, when I froze.
It wasn’t the staff.
It was Ethan.
He was standing at the kitchen island, his back partially to me, a glass of what looked like whiskey in one hand.
He had clearly just come from a shower; his dark hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends in a way that made him look younger.
But it wasn’t the unexpectedness of seeing him here, in the middle of the night, that stopped me in my tracks.
It was the robe.
He was wearing a simple black silk robe, loosely tied at the waist.
The fabric had fallen open at the front, revealing a broad expanse of chest that was nothing short of devastating.
I could see the hard lines of his chest, the flat plane of his stomach, the outline of him in his pants.
My mouth went dry at the sight of him.
Heat bloomed low in my belly and I felt an aching pull between my legs that made me press my thighs together.
I couldn’t look away.
Every small shift of his body made the robe sway, offering another fleeting glimpse of skin and the weight of him.
He turned his head slightly, as if he’d sensed me there.
I should have stepped back but instead I stayed frozen in the doorway, staring at him, imagining what it would feel like to close the distance and put my hands on him.
“Aleena,” he said in a low deep voice that made me want to surrender to him.
I took a step backward..
“I’m sorry,” I managed, my voice coming out as a whisper.
“I didn’t know you were…I just…
my stomach…
I was hungry, and I…”
I was babbling.
I knew I was babbling.
But I couldn’t seem to stop myself, couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought that didn’t involve the way his robe was still hanging open, revealing enough of his body to fuel a decade’s worth of inappropriate fantasies.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I finally managed.
“I’ll just go back to my room.”
I turned to flee, my heart hammering against my ribs but I had only made it two steps when I felt his hand close around my wrist.
His grip was warm against my skin in a way that sent a shiver all the way down my spine.
I froze, my back still to him, my entire body suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact between us.
“You don’t have to leave,” He said.