21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
F or a moment, time stands still.
There is just me and Ethan, staring at each other from across a bar, while the rest of the world fades away. It takes me several seconds to even process any thought at all, let alone thoughts about what is happening right now. This isn’t a coincidence. Ethan is too intelligent, too calculated, and too in control to allow a chance meeting at a hotel. Again. No, he planned this, but judging by his dark, brooding energy, it’s not for another hot hookup, either. There’s a message in this planned action that I don’t fully understand. Or maybe I do.
He's in control.
I am not.
That’s what he’s telling me.
The thing is, he doesn’t need to drive this point home. I actually respect his control in this situation, but I think he perceives my “name game” as it must seem, a belief otherwise. My mother used to tell me that while in conflict, to flip the switch and think of how others might feel if I were in their shoes. He was fairly open about people in his life being disingenuous, and he must feel I’m no different. I had an agenda in his mind, I can only assume. And he most likely believes that agenda involved my career and his money. On some level though, he has to question the truth in that assumption, considering I left without a word and seemed to fall off the radar.
Unless he believes I suddenly felt so much guilt, I ran, a bit like I did when I tried to escape him to the elevator.
And he’d be at least a little right on that point.
But he has to know I’ve made the decision to face him head-on or I would not be here for this meeting. Of course, perhaps he doesn’t know I know he’ll be here, therefore, he believes me to be utterly shocked right now, which I am not. Not really. I expected him tomorrow, not in the hotel bar.
I’m not sure what he expects of me now or what he wants, but I feel like I’ve been offered the opportunity to do just what I’d hoped to do—talk to him before the board meeting. And no matter how wildly my heart races with the idea, facing him here and now is the right thing to do. He won’t come to me. He expects me to either be brave and come to him or tuck my tail and run.
I won’t run.
I cut my stare, rake my teeth over my bottom lip, and suffocate my nerves in necessity. This conversation between us is necessary . I’m on my feet with that thought and walking toward Ethan. He lifts his drink, which I assume to be a Macallan 25, and sips, but his eyes never leave me. He watches my every step with calculated intelligence, and while the look on his handsome face gives away nothing, I cannot help but wonder if he’s thinking about us naked, and his hand on my backside, about just how well he’s controlled me. Maybe he just wants me to think about those things, and quite obviously, I am. My night with him might very well have ruined me for other men. I have no idea how anyone will ever live up to Ethan. No matter what happens next, that night can’t be washed away .
And that may well be the problem for both of us. Business and pleasure do not mix.
I reach his table, and I don’t ask for permission to sit with him. His very presence at the same hotel as me is the only invitation required. I claim the seat across from him, and this close, he’s more handsome than I remembered, his jaw chiseled, a dark shadow I remember rasping my belly, my face. Other places. He is male perfection personified, and I was always out of my league with him, but then it was only one night, or so I thought. “Hi, Ethan,” I say softly.
His eyes narrow on his name on my lips and darken, his lips twisting cynically. “Hello, Sofia .”
I opened myself up for this direct attack on the problem between us, but it’s for the best, I decide. “The name thing just happened,” I explain, no prelude to me jumping into the deep water.
“Did it now,” he replies drily, cynically, and it’s not even a question. It’s a well-deserved accusation.
And it bites with a conviction he’s already ruled to be worthy of my crime. “Why am I even here?”
“Isn’t this the opportunity you wanted?”
“Yes, but the truth is—”
He sets his glass down and leans in closer. “Yes, do tell me the truth, Sofia. ”
I decisively wave my hands in front of me in a cutting motion, side to side. “I’m just going to explain it all and then go back to my room, and if you want me to cancel the meeting, I’ll go back home. I’ll pay for my travel. I only knew your name. I had no idea you’d be at the event in Hawaii. And the reason I knew your name is the reason I allowed myself to let you believe I was Zoey.” I draw in a breath and just push onward. “My father is Robert Cameron. He talked with you about—”
“Investing,” he replies. “I’m aware.”
“You were with him as I now know you to be—frank and honest—but he took it as rude and degrading. I’m protective of my father, so I expected to hate you. I expected you to be,” I hesitate and cautiously add, “a lot of things you are not.”
His brow inches upward. “And what things would those be?”
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t care what I think about you. You care why I did what I did, as you should. No one wants to be in business with a liar. And I’m not that. The name thing spun out of control.” I motion between us. “You—me—we were just—good for each other that night. I didn’t want it to end, and I didn’t think it would go anywhere else but that room, for any reason at all.” He opens his mouth to speak, and I hold up a hand. “Please let me just get this all out, and then you can judge me how you see fit.” I don’t wait for his reply, driving forward with my explanation. “If you knew who my father was, I thought you’d assume I had an agenda for you to help him, but I don’t. I didn’t. I thought you were the asshole he felt you were to him, so I wanted him to have an investor who respected and cared about him, and again—I know he was defensive. None of this is about butchering you. It’s just explaining.” I twine my fingers together and press my index fingers to the bridge of my nose a minute, willing the burn of embarrassment my confessions have caused to fade before looking at him again. “I’m sorry. And it was probably foolish of me to accept this invitation. Why am I even here?” I ask again.
“You tell me. Why are you here?”
His tone is cold as ice, and I’m suddenly, or not so suddenly, freezing to death in a stuffy bar. “Because I started working with Moore’s before you were even in the picture, and I didn’t believe you’d actually care about my part of its business.”
“And yet, I was in Hawaii for the event.”
“Yes, but you have many other interests. Why would I present my brand to Moore’s as its own label if I really thought you’d be involved?”
“And yet, you wanted your label to become a major part of Moore’s business. ”
“I did, I do, but why would you care if I’m the one who made that happen, if it’s already done, and you benefit from it?”
“You thought you’d deceive me again.”
I feel the words as a stab in the heart and bristle, suddenly defensive myself. “While you sit here finding every angle to turn me into one of the many people who want you for your money, maybe you should consider that by keeping you out of this, I was doing it on my own. I was coming to your business with a way to make money for all of us. You told me if I wanted to compete with Prada, not to settle. You dared me to be more, and I dared to listen. I presented Zoey. And here I am, sitting across from you, being treated like I’m some money-grubbing whore.” The word “whore” is out before I can stop myself, and I can feel the heat of my anger, burning too hot, and too wild. “Obviously, we’re done.” I push to my feet, but I meet his burning stare. “Goodbye, Ethan,” I whisper, and I start walking.
“Sofia,” he says, his voice low, and rough.
I halt, but the burn in my belly is fire, and the anger in my blood is emotion that isn’t professional and will lead me no place good. I force myself to rotate to face him, and for several intense, charged beats, we just stare at one another, until finally he says, “No one but you told you not to go to the meeting tomorrow. Remember that if you choose not to attend. Goodnight, Sofia.”
Not goodbye.
Goodnight.
My lips part in surprise, and a shaky breath whispers from my lips, and I don’t know what to say in return, so I say nothing. I just rotate and start walking.