Chapter 222
“I don’t remember anything from last night…”
Charlotte’s voice was low, strained, as she bit down on her lip so hard that a thin line of blood bloomed at the corner.
Ethan’s gaze dropped immediately. Without much expression, he reached out and brushed the wound with his thumb.
“It doesn’t matter whether you remember,” he said evenly. “I do.”
He looked at the faint smear of red on his fingertip, as if it meant nothing at all, then exhaled softly.
Last night, he had only intended to pass the time.
Charlotte was Khloe’s most trusted subordinate. If she became entangled with him, it would be… interesting.
That had been all.
But Charlotte had resisted him far more than he expected.
No hesitation. No softness. Not even fear that could be bent in his favor—just pure rejection, as if he were something unpleasant she refused to touch.
Ethan had never lacked women who reacted to him. Whether affection, fear, or anger—there was always something.
Charlotte gave him nothing.
Even when he offered money with a casual suggestion that she simply go along with him, she refused outright.
It irritated him more than it should have.
Was he really that unremarkable? So unremarkable that even a woman like her—ordinary, overworked, struggling—could look at him and feel nothing but resistance?
That quiet rejection had planted something inconvenient in him. Not affection. Not care.
Something closer to a challenge.
So he used his injured hand as an excuse and stayed at her place under the pretense of treatment. He kept her occupied through the night, never letting her truly rest.
And when exhaustion finally dragged her into sleep, he had adjusted her collar, pulled her into his arms, and taken photos of them together at a deliberately intimate angle.
To him, it was nothing more than amusement. A harmless piece of manipulation to see how she would react afterward.
He hadn’t expected her to be so na?ve.
When he told her they had slept together, she believed it—completely.
Whether it was innocence or denial, it didn’t matter. Ethan didn’t bother correcting her.
Charlotte’s face was pale as she stood there now, forcing herself to speak.
“Even if something did happen between us… It was an accident.” Her voice tightened. “You can’t possibly be interested in someone like me. I saw it that day—you already have a girlfriend.”
At the mention of Michelle, something faintly cold flickered in Ethan’s eyes.
Girlfriend?
He almost wanted to laugh.
“If you mean Michelle,” he said flatly, “you’re mistaken.”
Charlotte hesitated but didn’t look convinced.
Ethan stepped closer, lowering his voice. “People like that can be replaced.”
His fingers slid into her hair, not gentle, not rough—just controlled. He tilted her head upward until her eyes were forced to meet his.
“Right now,” he continued, “I’m more interested in you.”
Charlotte’s jaw tightened.
“I’m not interested in you.”
There was no hesitation in her answer.
Ethan smiled faintly, as if he’d expected it.
“If you’re not interested,” he said, “why do you keep avoiding me? Why do you panic when I get close? And why are you so afraid someone will find out about us?”
“That’s not—”
“It is,” he cut in smoothly.
Charlotte’s breathing turned uneven. She forced herself to stay steady.
“I don’t want rumors at the company. I don’t want Khloe to misunderstand. I need this job. I’m just someone trying to survive—I can’t afford to be involved with people like you.”
Her voice stayed controlled, but there was a thin crack of pressure underneath it.
Ethan studied her for a moment.
So that was it.
Khloe. Work. Survival.
Always something bigger than herself, she was trying to protect.
He leaned in slightly, his voice softening into something almost lazy.
“Fine,” he said. “If you do what I want, I won’t bother you. I’ll even treat you well.”
Charlotte’s shoulders stiffened.
“I don’t need—”
A finger pressed lightly against her lips, silencing her mid-sentence.
Ethan’s eyes stayed on hers, calm and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.