Chapter- 24

Grand foyer pedicures Ethan's assistant's advent, high esteem speaking into Ryan. Corporation only fitting, whipping the brunette's face with a newfound slap. Ryan summons will, whooping every ounce of attention he is getting— in line "Good morning, Sir!" How soon is too soon exactly? How is it four days already? How many days make four days? Ryan hasn't gotten used to being paid juggling respects left and right far— he had just adjusted to always acting in the role of one who pays, gets nothing in return. . .

Resounding click-clacks focus on a pair of Chelsea boots, hallowed ground departing to the opposite direction of Ethan's grand glass doors. "May I co–" a bumming noddle is gawking at Ryan, leering…enough reason for Ryan to tread substantial emotional distress.

"What's that in your hand, Mr. Miller?"

"Huh?" Ryan reacts absurdly, drawing back in distaste, "S- sorry. I think I saw something there," lacking in evidence, Ryan will not breathe a word to his boss— that could have been only coincidence? An illusion? Nothing can be said for guarantee.

"What did you see?" Ethan bucks up, ear perking, eyes peeling— "What was it!?"

"Nothing, I mistook something for something else," papers strewn about like confetti bears witness to Ryan's diligence, "Rose tea, Sir!" A tapestry made up of whispered promises of stolen moments between their hectic schedules. "For you, Sir," a melodic invitation to breathe…to just breathe.

The CEO's storm-blue eyes breaking free from their captor— Ryan is a sight to behold.

Fallen in the web of Ryan's enterprise, the CEO gains knowledge of how deep he has fallen, God forbid it now becomes impossible to unassemble— "Beautiful…"

"Yes, Sir?" Own ears hadn't played tricks on Ryan hitherto, harmless or harmful.

"I– I mean the- the vial, it looks beautiful. It's… It's just so small and so cute," Ethan blinds the truth, calculating before he says anything, "Thank you!"

Uninvited, a stilted, mangled laugh is all what Ryan can manage, "Sir, if you don't mind, can I have the benefit to know who do you suspect had sent that email?" Consternation doesn't abide by rationality; what if a pair of mysterious eyes watching Ryan and this email has some kind of connection?

"Do you know Henry Smith?"

Ryan remains tight-lipped…"Are you talking about the owner of Hellmates?"

Ethan looks right through his assistant, "Do you know anything else about him? Because that's not his only identity, one of the prior of course, but not the only one."

"I think… he… Sir, is he your— !?"

"That's right," Ethan shoves his slim fingers, tousling Ryan's ravelled streaks, "He's my dad! Can you believe it?"

What is Ryan to focus on? His gloating boss, Ryan's Mr. Haughty patting his own head like a caring acquaintance. Or the fact that Ethan Smith's own dad conspires against his son. Or the petting is to emphasize Ryan is Ethan's dog, huh?

"You must be thinking what's new in that? A dad becoming the business rival of his son, typical old tale, isn't it?" He cannot come up with an immediate pardon, "Is that what you're thinking?"

"Don't make me be so quick to judge. I need more information," Ryan notices the unease in Ethan's eyes, "I believe there must be a reason behind everything."

"Nothing about my dad can be similar about who have dealt with parents like these," unabating doubts and suspicions of his father had finally culminated Ethan's emotions in a turmoil, "Maybe someday I will trust you enough to tell you why, Mr. Miller."

"Sir…are you alright?" Ryan is compelled to rain on Ethan's parched ground, "I will wait. I will wait for you to trust me fully."

Bottling unmistakable, nonverbal cue, Ethan uprears, seat oscillating, "I have thought about it, Mr. Miller. You were right, there's no way I could be so callous to let my login credentials slip to someone who lives miles away from my office."

"That's what I meant," the allusion coalesce, not like a waning light but a secret darkness that lurks without knowledge, "Someone is stabbing you behind your back."

"Let's go to the site."

Ryan is finely cut up. "Geez. You could have just texted me that beforehand, why did I come all the way to your office for no reason?"

Ethan gives his assistant a small smile, "Maybe you're forgetting the attendance register is right here, in my office."

"Come up with a better excuse. I challenge you!"

Ethan stretches, flaunting the vial, "Wouldn't I have to share it with everyone else if you didn't come to my office in person?"

Ryan's happiness now knows no bounds— to all intents and purposes, Ryan is happy, "R- really, Sir? You like it that much?"

"I'm moving to the location, client has an appointment, can't risk to be late. So, now let's go?" Ethan notes.

"Fine. Let's g–" words are fished improperly, Ryan sees the same, lifeless pairs of eyes staring at him, "Sir, you may go ahead. I will be there in a bit," reflexes make the brunette say it— the eyes aren't normal; they want to talk to Ryan.

"Okay. But don't be late."

"Promise! Now go ahead. You don't want to miss your client," Ryan's unwavering concentration dogs his boss's every tramp until that silhouette gets tiny, tinier, no more visible…

On the receiving end of unknown, Ryan prepares for the worst, "In case you want to tell me anything, do it now!"

"Ryan," a man unmasks, typically as one would expect, in the prime of his life, physically active looking— 30 years old, erasing intermissions between them, if any, "Take this envelope with you. Ryan, there are the pictures and letters to be hung on LOVESICK'S love story wall."

"You know that you absolutely didn't have to act as a creep to just hand this envelope to me?" Tied in a powerful confusion, Ryan couldn't break free from, "I thought you were going to drop a bomb or something."

"Ryan…listen to me carefully, do not, under any circumstances let this envelope come in contact to Boss, please!! You'll know why once you have opened it. Be very careful! I trust you, Ryan."

-

A lilliput- no way! Ryan is not a lilliput, no. The swivel seat top falls short of his stature, rendering it unjust to hold Ryan accountable for not reaching to the uninhabited board— it's not Ethan's assistant's fault that he is going in circles. . .meaning he's only spinning, standing upon it, rather than diligently pinning the cherished photographs on the illustrious Love Wall Board; why would Ethan choose a ridiculous way to reach to the wall suspended from zenith?

"Hm- m- m," gyration speed breaks Ryan's rolling syllables, "The wall- paper- is- so- cute," a vivacious wallpaper, a garnish of pop-up miniature hearts all over, is accentuating LOVESICK'S beauty. From each spinning pauses, as much Ryan had collected in his eyesight, it looks like nothing could have done it better at its place; Ethan Smith may not understand love, but he sure does understand aesthetic appeal.

Tricking the wheels, Ryan frisks, head experiencing everything that joins in dizzy spells, light-headedness, unbalance, "I don't want to spend the rest of my day going wheeeee!" He muses to himself, "I need to ask Sir for a better option immediately."

"Siiiir!" Other than the full rigour is drowned in Ryan's throat, it doesn't look too good, the CEO's PA, yelling at the middle of the day— on top of that, Ethan is having a client meet, Ryan's din shouldn't marr the scene.

Nestled inside the grand expanse of Ethan's three-story building, only surviving option B invites Ryan to attend. Less than two arms' distance, lay a room that seems inconsequential. Its purpose is elusive, serving no particular purpose. Ryan tiptoes towards the chamber, actions laden with delicate reverence. The PA's hand glides, his knuckles just barely brushing the surface of the partly closed door…

"When I first came across his profile, I didn't really have any desire to match with him," a tender woman collapses her bosom in a plethora of emotions, at least that's how it sounds like, to the younger, "He sent me a match request first. I had only 48 hours to decide if I would accept, or reject."

"So, what made you end up accepting him?" Beyond a doubt, it's Ryan's employer's sound.

"I…thought to give him a chance. Most of the profiles I matched with before were not interested in a serious relationship. Their bios said a lot about them, but I got fooled into believing that I've fallen in love, when all I fell for was their striking, dazzling looks."

"We were on the same page, until I met Alina," an unrecognisable man's validation flows. "Looks can really be deceiving. And it doesn't only apply to the pretty looking ones, I mean…deceit doesn't care about any kinds of looks."

"Mr. Smith, would you believe, when I met Michael, I had little to no expectations. He was nothing remarkable. He wasn't even anything different," the woman named Alina recounts those days, "But the way he talked, the way we chatted, he was always so…balanced. He pushed me to my boundaries, but never allowed my head to get too big for me. He criticised me."

Eavesdropping goes against Ryan's principles— But…

"Yes, so Ryan Miller!" He begins to advance nearer me, taking his coat off, before plunging that filthy piece of fabric right on my face, "Do you really think you're even a bit compatible for the role of my PA? For the role of Evan Smith's PA?? Huh??" His shrill hollers cut through my heart as I keep listening without voicing anything— I know that I am incompetent.

Was it Ethan's way of criticising?

"And what about you, Michael?" Ethan eagerly asks, or at least he's pretending to be eager— Ethan isn't feeling heartburn or an upset stomach now?

"Allina was very subtle, very confused about her feelings. Almost to the point where one can say that they don't believe in love anymore," Michael and Allina had come a long way together, that's all what matters now, "Circumstances are the ones to blame. Allina started believing no one would or can ever love her if not for her looks. But for me, Allina's poetry infatuated me with her. Now, to me, the first stage of love is always…infatuation."

Infatuation— Ryan falls out of breath, "Infatuation?"