Chapter 3

Emily’s POV… 

I stared at the business card in my hand, my heart pounding as I tapped Ethan’s number into my phone. Olivia sat beside me, practically vibrating with excitement, mouthing “do it,” over and over again. 

With a deep breath, I hit call. 

It rang twice before a deep, familiar voice answered. 

“Carter” 

My breath caught at the way he said my last name—calm, controlled, effortlessly powerful.

“Ethan,” I said, trying to sound composed. “It’s Emily.”

There was a beat of silence. Not the awkward kind. The calculated kind. Like he wasn’t surprised I had called—but he was still deciding what to do with that information.

“I see you took my offer,” he finally said.

I smirked slightly. “That depends. What exactly was your offer?”

A quiet chuckle. Low. Amused. “Why don’t you come by my office tomorrow, and we’ll find out?”

I hesitated. “Your office?”

“Yes. Unless you’d prefer somewhere else?” His tone was smooth, unreadable.

“No, your office is fine,” I said quickly, gripping the phone tighter.

“Good,” Ethan said. “10 a.m. Don’t be late.”

Before I could say anything else, the call ended.

Olivia screamed.

“You have to tell me everything when you get back,” she gushed, grabbing my hands. “Promise me. Swear on our friendship.”

I groaned, tossing my phone onto the couch. “Liv, I don’t even know what I’m walking into.” 

“Oh, please.” Olivia grinned. “You’re walking into the lion’s den. And I think you like it.”

I didn’t answer.

Because maybe, just maybe, Olivia was right.

*** 

***THE NEXT DAY***

I stepped out of the elevator and into the top floor of Sinclair Industries, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer magnificence of it all. 

Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the massive office space, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Sleek marble floors reflected the soft glow of designer chandeliers, and everything—from the pristine white walls to the modern glass partitions—screamed power and wealth.

It was intimidating.

And it was exactly the kind of place Ethan Sinclair belonged.

I approached the front desk, where a striking blonde woman in a fitted black dress sat, typing away on a sleek computer. Her nameplate read Victoria Monroe. 

I cleared my throat. “Hi. I have an appointment with Ethan Sinclair.”

Victoria barely glanced up. “Name?”

“Emily Carter.”

The second I said my name, Victoria’s fingers froze over the keyboard. Slowly, she looked up, her icy blue eyes narrowing. 

“Oh,” she said, her lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You’re Emily.” 

I frowned. “Is that a problem?”

Victoria let out a soft, condescending laugh. “It’s just surprising. Mr. Sinclair doesn’t usually take… personal meetings.”

The way she said personal made my skin prickle.

Before I could respond, a deep voice cut through the tension.

“Victoria.”

We both turned.

Ethan stood at the entrance of his office, his piercing gaze locked onto his secretary. His suit was immaculate, his presence commanding, and the slight edge in his tone made Victoria’s expression shift instantly.

“Is there a problem?” Ethan asked, his voice calm but dangerous.

Victoria straightened, her professional mask sliding back into place. “Not at all, Mr. Sinclair.”

Ethan didn’t look away from her. “Then show her in.”

Victoria swallowed, then turned back to me with a tight-lipped smile. “Right this way,” she said, her tone considerably less sharp.

I didn’t gloat. I didn’t have to.

Because as I stepped past Victoria, Ethan placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me into his office.

And that said more than words ever could. 

*** 

I sat down in one of the plush leather chairs opposite Ethan’s desk, trying to appear composed despite the tension crackling between us. 

Ethan took his seat behind the massive glass desk, his sharp blue eyes watching me with quiet intensity. He leaned back, completely at ease, while I felt like my entire body was on high alert. 

His office was as impressive as the rest of Sinclair Industries—minimalist yet expensive, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city. But it was the man sitting across from me that truly stole the air from the room.

“So,” Ethan said, breaking the silence. “What made you call?”

I licked my lips, suddenly aware of how alone we were. Why did I call?

For the thrill? The challenge? Because I wanted to prove something to Daniel?

No.

Because from the moment Ethan had looked at me at the gala, something had shifted. And now that I was here, facing him, I realized I had no idea what to do about it.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, folding my hands in my lap. “I guess I was curious.”

Ethan arched a brow. “Curious?”

I met his gaze, refusing to look away. “You handed me your card, but you never said what you wanted.”

His lips twitched slightly, as if amused. “Maybe I was curious too.” 

I scoffed. “You? Curious? I don’t believe that.” 

Ethan exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You think I’m incapable of curiosity?”

“I think you’re the type of man who never does anything without a purpose,” I said.

His gaze darkened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “And what if you were my purpose, Emily?”

My breath hitched. 

Ethan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. His presence was too overwhelming, and yet I didn’t want to look away.

“I have a reputation,” he said, his voice low. “People assume I’m cold. Detached.”

I swallowed, nodding. “You are.”

His lips curled slightly. “And yet, you’re here.”

I hated that he was right. Hated that he could see exactly what I was trying to ignore. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing ,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. 

Ethan studied me for a long moment. Then he stood, rounding the desk in slow, deliberate steps until he was right in front of me. 

 I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. 

Ethan reached down, fingers grazing the armrest of my chair as he leaned in just slightly. “Then let me make it easy for you.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

He was close. Too close.

And yet, I didn’t move away.

I should have. But instead, I reached out—just barely, just enough for my fingertips to brush against the fabric of his suit jacket.

That tiny movement was all it took.

Ethan’s gaze flickered to my lips, his control slipping for just a fraction of a second.

And that was all the permission I needed.

Before I could think, before I could talk herself out of it, I rose to my feet and kissed him.

Ethan didn’t hesitate. One hand gripped my waist, pulling me closer, while the other slid into my hair, tilting my head just the way he wanted.

I melted against him, my fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened. 

It was reckless. It was dangerous.

And I had never wanted anything more.