Chapter 91

"Do you have to be so evasive about her all the time?" I paced the length of Ethan's office, my voice shaking with anger.

Ethan stayed seated behind his desk, his expression grim, his features carved into sharp shadows by the late-night city lights streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, his calm composure only fueling my anger.

"This isn't the time for one of your outbursts, Emily," he said, his tone flat, as though my anger were a mere bother.

The flippant note in his voice stung more than I expected. I stopped pacing and glared at him, my nails digging into my hands to hold back the surge of emotion.

"A tirade? Is that what you think this is?" I replied, my voice steady but biting. "Ethan, you've spent every moment with her. You hardly talk to me anymore."

He groaned and rubbed his temples as though I were a nuisance. "Isabella is a work associate. I've told you this a dozen times."

"Then why does she always seem to be here?" I demanded, my anger bubbling over. "Why do you drop everything the moment she calls?"

His attention flickered with something-annoyance, perhaps-but the glimmer of irritation in his eyes only made me feel smaller, as though I were the problem. "Emily, we're negotiating a deal for millions. You wouldn't understand how important this is."

The words hit like a slap, and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, trying to hide the hurt.

"This isn't about the deal," I continued, my voice softer but no less sharp. "It's about the fact that you won't let anyone else get close to you. Not even me."

Ethan's chair scraped against the floor as he stood suddenly, his towering presence filling the room. For a brief moment, I felt unimportant, small in the face of his imposing stature.

"You're being irrational," he said, his voice cold. "Isabella and I are working. That's it. This conversation is over."

But I wasn't ready to let it end.

"You don't get to decide when this conversation ends," I shot back, stepping closer. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to just watch her take up all your time? To be ignored as if I don't even exist?"

His jaw tightened, and I swear I saw a spark of guilt-of regret?-in his eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but the chill of his indifference.

"You're imagining things," he mumbled, his voice as cold as ice. "Stop making this something it's not."

I felt a heavy weight in my chest, my heart sinking. I had no idea how to break through his defenses, how to get past the walls he'd built around himself.

The room fell into an agonizing quiet, and I crossed my arms, turning my back on him. Outside the window, the city lights flashed, mocking me with their bright, cold beauty, as if taunting me for feeling so small in this moment.

"She doesn't even know, does she?" I whispered, more to myself than to him.

"What?" Ethan's voice was curt, but I didn't turn around.

I glanced back at him, studying his face for any sign of understanding. "That I-" I stopped, the words caught in my throat, too raw, too exposed. "That we..."

Ethan's face softened, just slightly, but he stayed silent. The moment stretched out between us, heavy with unsaid words.

The knock on the door broke the tension.

"Ethan?" Isabella's voice called from the hallway. "Will you please review those projections?"

The door opened, and she entered, her polished heels clicking against the floor, her smile warm, her presence perfect. My stomach turned.

She glanced between us, feeling the tension in the room, but added, "I didn't mean to interrupt. If this is a bad time, I can come back."

Ethan's tone shifted instantly, light and easy as he responded, "No, it's fine."

The way his face softened as he looked at her made my blood run cold.

Isabella set a folder down on the desk, her voice smooth and professional. "I was thinking we could plan more late-night work sessions this week, to stay on top of things. Is that good for you?"

My nails dug into my hands as I fought to keep my composure.

"Late-night sessions?" I cut in, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Sounds comfortable."

Isabella blinked, clearly thrown off by my tone. "I... didn't mean anything by it," she stammered.

"Obviously not," I said, my smile tight and brittle as I kept my eyes fixed on Ethan. "You never do."

"Enough, Emily," he said, his voice low and warning.

But I couldn't let it go.

"No, it's fine," I answered, picking up my suitcase and slinging it over my shoulder. "I'll leave you two to make your own... assumptions."

I left the office without waiting for an answer, my heels echoing down the empty hallway.

The cold air outside did nothing to ease the fire burning inside me. I couldn't go home like this, not yet. So, I stayed by the building, hiding in the shadows, watching the door.

An hour passed, and worries crept in. Maybe I was exaggerating. Maybe Ethan was right-I was imagining things.

Then I saw them.

Ethan and Isabella, leaving together. Their faces were solemn, and they shared quiet words as they walked toward his car. Nothing openly intimate, but something about their closeness made my stomach churn. When she put a hand on his arm and leaned in just a little, it felt too personal.

From where I stood, it looked intimate-too intimate.

My heart pounded in my chest as Ethan glanced around, ensuring no one was watching. He opened the car door for her and stayed there, his hand resting on the edge of the door while she slid inside.

That was too much.

I pulled out my phone without thinking and snapped a picture, the flash off. If Ethan wouldn't tell me the truth, then I'd find out for myself.