CHAPTER 3:
Emilia barely slept that night, and when she did, her dreams were restless, filled with fragments of memories she couldn't quite piece together. Ethan's voice lingered in her mind, low and deliberate, calling her name in a way that made her chest tighten. She turned over in her bed, burying her face into the pillow, trying to escape the thoughts that refused to leave her alone. It was absurd. She had faced him countless times in university without hesitation, without this strange, unsettling feeling. But now, everything felt different, heavier, as though something unspoken had taken root between them. She exhaled sharply, staring at the ceiling. Get a grip, Emilia, she whispered. It's just him. But even as she said it, she knew that wasn't true anymore.
The morning air was cool, yet it did nothing to calm the restless energy in her chest. Emilia stood in front of her mirror longer than necessary, adjusting her outfit, smoothing invisible creases, and staring at her reflection as if it might offer her answers. There was a faint tension in her expression, something she couldn't hide no matter how composed she tried to appear. By the time she arrived at Markson Group, she had already convinced herself that today would be different, that she would keep her distance, remain professional, and ignore whatever strange pull existed between her and Ethan. But the moment she stepped into the building, she felt it again, that subtle shift in the air, like a silent warning that she was stepping into something she couldn't control.
Goood morning, Miss Jones.
His voice came from behind her, smooth and calm, yet it sent a jolt through her entire body. Emilia turned slowly, her breath catching before she could stop it. Ethan stood there, effortlessly composed, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her acutely aware of herself. His eyes moved over her briefly not inappropriate, but deliberate enough to make her heart skip. She straightened instinctively, forcing a polite nod. Good morning, she replied, keeping her voice steady. But the silence that followed was anything but normal; it stretched between them, thick with something neither of them dared to acknowledge.
You didn't sleep, Ethan said after a moment, his tone quieter now, almost observant. Emilia frowned slightly, caught off guard. Excuse me? He stepped closer, not invading her space completely, but enough to make her aware of the distance between them. You look tired, he added, his gaze softening just a fraction. That small change unsettled her more than his usual arrogance ever had. That's none of your concern, she replied quickly, turning to walk past him. But before she could take more than a step, his hand closed around her wrist.
The contact was immediate and electrifying.
Emilia froze, her breath hitching as warmth spread from where his fingers touched her skin. It wasn't tight, not forceful, yet it held her in place all the same. Slowly, she turned back to face him, her pulse racing uncontrollably beneath his touch. Let go, he said softly, though there was no real resistance in her voice. Ethan's gaze darkened slightly, his thumb brushing lightly against her wrist in a way that felt anything but accidental. The gesture was subtle, almost absent-minded, yet it sent a shiver up her spine. For a moment, neither of them moved, and the world around them seemed to fade into nothing.
You're nervous, he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
I'm not, she replied, but her voice betrayed her.
Ethan's lips curved faintly, not quite a smile, but something close to it. You always were a terrible liar, he said, releasing her slowly, as if reluctant to break the contact. Emilia pulled her hand back immediately, her fingers curling slightly as if trying to hold onto the warmth he had left behind. She hated the way her body reacted to him, hated the way her thoughts seemed to scatter whenever he was near. We're at work, she said firmly, more to herself than to him. But even as she said it, she could feel his gaze lingering, steady and unreadable.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur, though not because of the workload. Every moment seemed charged, every interaction layered with something unspoken. A brush of shoulders as they passed each other, a shared glance across the room that lingered just a second too long, a quiet comment that carried more meaning than it should have. Emilia tried to focus, tried to bury herself in her tasks, but it was impossible to ignore the constant awareness of him. It was as if her senses had become attuned to his presence, picking up every movement, every shift in tone, every subtle change in expression. And the worst part was that she wasn't sure if he felt it too, or if he was simply playing a game she didn't understand.
By the time afternoon came, Emilia needed space. Real space. She slipped into an empty conference room, closing the door behind her with a quiet sigh of relief. The silence wrapped around her, giving her a moment to breathe, to think, to regain some semblance of control. She leaned against the table, pressing her palms flat against the cool surface, her eyes closing briefly. What is wrong with me? she whispered. The question lingered in the air, unanswered, until a familiar voice broke through the silence.
You tell me.
Her eyes snapped open instantly. Ethan stood by the door, his presence filling the room as though he had always been there. You shouldn't be here, she said, straightening, though her voice lacked its usual firmness. He closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing louder than it should have. And yet, I am, he replied calmly, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps. Emilia's heart began to race again, her instincts telling her to move, to create distance, but her feet refused to cooperate. She stayed where she was, trapped between the table and the growing intensity in his gaze.
Why are you avoiding me? he asked, stopping just in front of her.
I'm not, she said immediately, though even she didn't believe it.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her. You are, he said quietly. And you don't even realize it.
Her chest tightened, her thoughts tangling together. We're not in university anymore, she said, grasping for something, anything that would ground her.
No, he agreed, his voice dropping, softer now, more dangerous. We're not.
The space between them felt smaller, tighter, charged with something neither of them could escape. Emilia's breath became uneven as he stepped closer, his hand resting on the table beside her, effectively trapping her between him and the solid surface. She could feel the heat of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, the steady rhythm of his breathing. It was overwhelming, suffocating, yet she didn't move. She couldn't. Her eyes locked with his, searching for something, an answer, a reason, anything that would explain why this felt so different from before.
Then why does it feel like nothing has changed?" he asked softly.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Because everything had changed.
Before she could gather her thoughts, his gaze dropped briefly to her lips, and her breath caught sharply. The shift was subtle, almost imperceptible, yet it changed everything. The tension between them deepened, pulling tighter, drawing them closer without either of them making a conscious decision. Emilia felt it, the undeniable pull, the dangerous edge of something neither of them had ever acknowledged before. Her heart pounded against her ribs, loud and unrelenting, as if it were trying to warn her. Or maybe push her forward.
Ethan… she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He didn't respond.
Instead, he leaned in, slowly, deliberately closing the distance between them inch by inch. Emilia's breath trembled as she felt it, the moment stretching endlessly, suspended between hesitation and inevitability. Her fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table, her mind screaming at her to stop this, to step away, to remember who he was and what they had been. But her body didn't listen. Her eyes fluttered shut for just a second, her heart racing faster than ever before.
And then—
A sharp knock shattered the moment.
They both froze instantly, reality crashing back in like cold water.
Sir? We need you in the conference hall immediately.
Ethan pulled back slowly, the intensity in his expression fading into something more controlled, more distant. Emilia straightened quickly, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to regain her composure. The air between them felt different now, heavier, charged with what almost happened. For a brief moment, neither of them spoke, neither willing to acknowledge how close they had come to crossing a line neither of them could undo.
This isn't over, Ethan said quietly, his voice low, steady, certain.
Emilia's heart skipped.
And as he walked out, leaving her alone in the silence of the room, one terrifying realization settled deep within her...
She didn't want it to be over.