Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
ETHAN
RETURNING TO REALITY
I wake before dawn, Harper’s warm body curled against mine. She sleeps, her breathing slow and even, messy hair spread across my pillow like a flame.
Our last morning on the ship. In a few hours, we’ll disembark at Miami, returning to the real world where I’m the CEO of Cole Tech and she’s a respected environmental scientist whose pending article could blow up my company’s sustainability reputation. The bubble we’ve lived in for the past five days—this strange space where antagonism changed into attraction, and attraction deepened into love—will burst.
I should be concerned, planning damage control strategies and PR angles. Instead, I’m watching Harper sleep and contemplating how I can convince her to have dinner with me in New York next weekend.
She stirs, stretching against me before her eyes flutter open. For a moment, she seems disoriented, then her lips curve in a sleepy smile.
“Morning,” she murmurs, voice husky.
“Morning.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Sleep well?”
“Mmm, eventually.” The mischief in her eyes reminds me of our late-night activities.
“You’re dangerously good at that, Dr. Bennett.”
“I believe in being hands on.” She props herself up on one elbow. “What time do we dock?”
“Nine. Disembark at ten.” Reality intruding on our last moments of privacy.
She nods. “My flight back to New York is at two.”
“Mine as well. Different airline, I presume?”
“Probably. I doubt my economy ticket is on your private jet.”
I laugh, grateful for her humor. “I flew commercial. But I’d be happy to upgrade your seat to first class if you’re on my flight.”
“No special treatment, remember? That was our agreement.” Her tone is light, but her eyes are serious. “We start as we mean to go on, Ethan.”
“Fair enough.” I pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Though I reserve the right to spoil you for personal reasons.”
“We’ll set those boundaries later.” She stretches again, the sheet slipping lower to reveal the freckled skin of her shoulders and the gentle swell of her breasts. “Right now, I think we have more important things to attend to.”
“Such as?”
Her hand slides beneath the sheet, finding me already hard. “Making the most of our remaining ship time.”
Any clever response dies in my throat as her fingers wrap around me with confidence. I’ve been with beautiful, accomplished women before, but none who approach intimacy with Harper’s genuine passion.
“Harper,” I warn as she works her way down my body, trailing kisses across my chest and stomach. “We have breakfast reservations in an hour.”
“Plenty of time,” she murmurs against my skin. “I’ve streamlined this process.”
When her mouth replaces her hand, warm and wet around me, I surrender to the sensation, tangling my fingers in her auburn hair as she makes me forget my self-control. Just when I’m approaching the edge, she pulls back, a wicked smile playing at her lips.
“Not yet,” she says, moving up my body to straddle my hips. “I want to try something.”
I watch, mesmerized, as she positions herself above me, sinking down with agonizing slowness until I’m sheathed inside her. The sight of Harper taking her pleasure—head thrown back, eyes half-closed—is enough to make me forget every responsibility awaiting me outside this cabin.
“You’re incredible,” I manage, hands guiding her hips as she builds a rhythm that has us both gasping.
“Just—” she falters as I thrust upward to meet her, “—don’t stop.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Her laugh transforms into a moan as I reach between us, my thumb finding her sensitive clit, that I know will push her to her climax. Her movements become more erratic, her breathing more ragged.
“Ethan,” she gasps, nails digging into my skin. “I’m so close?—”
“I know,” I murmur, increasing the pressure of my thumb. “Let go, Harper. I’ve got you.”
When she comes, it’s with my name on her lips and her eyes locked on mine—a moment of perfect connection that sends me following right after her, my release leaves me breathless.
She collapses against me, her heartbeat racing in time with mine, our bodies still joined as we catch our breath. I wrap my arms around her, committing to memory the scent of her hair and the feel of her skin.
“I think we can still make breakfast?” she asks after a moment, voice muffled against my shoulder.
I laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Yes. Though I’d happily miss breakfast for more of this.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She lifts her head, expression softening. “But we should start getting ready to go home too.”
Reality again. I nod, though I make no move to release her. “Five more minutes.”
“Five more minutes,” she agrees, settling back against my chest.
Finally, with reluctance, Harper slides from my embrace and begins gathering her clothes from where they ended up scattered across the floor.
“I need to finish packing,” she says, pulling her dress over her head. “And I should check if Chen has the final documentation I requested.”
“I’ll handle Chen,” I offer, pulling on boxers and reaching for my phone. “You can pack. Meet me for breakfast at eight?”
Her smile is warm enough to chase away my concerns about our impending return to reality. “Eight works. Here or the dining room?”
“Dining room. We should make at least one public appearance before disembarking.”
“For the cameras?” she asks, a hint of her earlier skepticism returning.
“For closure on our official arrangement,” I clarify. “Our fake relationship deserves a proper ending, don’t you think?”
“You’re right. One last performance before we restart on real terms.”
She crosses to where I sit on the edge of the bed, bends down, and kisses me. “See you at eight, Cole.”
After she leaves, I shower and get dressed, my mind shifting between anticipation and real company concerns. Standard CEO concerns, but now infused with Harper’s influence.
My phone buzzes with a text from Alex:
Docking in an hour. Media waiting for your disembarkation with Dr. Bennett. How do you want to play this?
An excellent question. How do we present ourselves? The fake relationship was arranged for mutual benefit—positive PR for me, access for Harper. But what we’ve developed is genuine, if complicated. Too new and fragile for public consumption, yet too good to hide.
We’ll disembark together, cordial. Emphasize her thorough assessment and our commitment to implementing improvements. No hint of romantic attachment yet—she needs space for her assessment to be perceived as unbiased.
Alex’s response comes quickly:
Wise approach. Though the internet is already shipping you two based on passenger social media. #ColevsBennett trending again, but now with heart emojis.
I smile despite myself.
Let them speculate. Official line is professional respect and environmental commitment.
Got it. See you shore-side.
At eight, I enter the main dining room to find Harper already seated by a window, looking out at the approaching Miami skyline. She’s wearing a simple green sundress that brings out her eyes, her hair loose around her shoulders. Several passengers glance at us with interest—our antagonism-to-romance storyline has provided quality entertainment throughout the cruise.
“Dr. Bennett,” I greet her as I approach, mindful of our audience.
She looks up with a small smile. “Mr. Cole. Right on time.”
“Always, for important matters.” I take the seat across from her, noting the array of breakfast options she’s already selected from the buffet. “I see you’ve started without me.”
“The ship’s waste processing incident made me conscious of food waste this morning,” she replies, loud enough for nearby tables to hear.
“Admirable principles, as always.”
Our public performance continues through breakfast—professional, cordial, with just enough lingering eye contact to fuel gossip. To any observer, we appear to be a corporate executive and an environmental scientist finding unexpected common ground—nothing more.
Only the slight reddening of Harper’s cheeks when my foot brushes hers beneath the table betrays our more intimate connection.
As we finish our coffee, the captain announces our arrival at Port Miami. Passengers move toward observation decks to watch the docking process, leaving us alone in the dining room.
“So,” Harper says quietly. “Here we are. End of the cruise.”
“End of the cruise,” I agree. “Not the end of us.”
She meets my eyes, uncertainty flashing across her features. “It will be different on land. Complicated.”
“I know.” I reach across the table, covering her hand with mine. “But I meant what I said last night. I want to try, Harper. No pressure, no expectations, just... possibility.”
Her expression softens. “I want that too. Even with all the logical, rational arguments against it.”
“When do you plan to publish your expose?”
“I’ll submit the preliminary findings to my publisher next week. The full report will take another two weeks to complete with all the data.” She hesitates. “Once it’s published, people will have opinions about our... relationship.”
“People always have opinions. The question is whether we care more about those opinions than about us.”
“Very philosophical for a corporate CEO,” she teases, but her eyes are serious.
“I am not just a CEO.”
Her smile reaches her eyes this time. “You’ve proven that.”
The ship’s horn sounds, announcing our arrival. Around us, passengers gather belongings and bags preparing to leave the boat. Our private moment ends.
“My suite is closer to the main gangway than yours,” I say, standing. “Would you like to collect your luggage and meet me there in thirty minutes? We can disembark together.”
She nods. “Professionally together? For appearances.”
“For now,” I agree. “Until you’ve published your findings, and we can plan our next steps without compromising your professional credibility.”
“Thank you for understanding that.” The relief in her voice confirms I’ve made the right decision, however much I might want to claim her as mine.
“See you in thirty,” she says, then surprises me by leaning in and placing a quick kiss on my cheek—the kind of goodbye a casual friend might offer, nothing that would raise eyebrows. But her whispered words are for me alone. “Last night was worth repeating, Cole. Many times.”
Then she’s gone, moving through the crowded dining room with grace, leaving me watching her with what I suspect is a ridiculously obvious expression of admiration.
Thirty minutes later, my luggage is packed and waiting by the door when Harper arrives, looking composed and professional in jeans and a light blazer, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. Only the slight darkening of a mark just above her collar—a memento from our more enthusiastic activities last night—hints at our intimate connection.
“Ready?” she asks, all business despite the memories of her naked in my bed just hours ago.
“Ready.” I pick up both our bags.
Her lips twitch with suppressed amusement.
I maintain a professional distance from Harper, though every instinct urges me to take her hand, to place my palm against the small of her back, to give some outward sign of my internal claim.
“Alex says there’s media waiting at the cruise terminal,” I warn as we approach the exit. “Standard coverage, but they’ll be interested in us given our initial champagne baptism and subsequent social media storm.”
“How should we handle it?” she asks, tensing.
“You completed your case study, I provided full access and transparency, we developed mutual professional respect through the process.” I meet her eyes. “The truth, just not the whole truth.”
She nods, squaring her shoulders. “I can manage that.”
We reach the gangway, where Chen waits with a final data package for Harper. As they exchange professional goodbyes, I scan the terminal, spotting several camera crews positioned to capture passenger reactions.
“Dr. Bennett,” I say as she finishes with Chen, loud enough for nearby passengers to hear. “Thank you for your thorough assessment of our environmental initiatives. Cole Tech looks forward to your findings and recommendations for continuous improvement.”
She slips into her role, extending her hand for a formal shake. “Thank you for your transparency, Mr. Cole. It’s refreshing to work with a corporation committed to environmental progress, even when that means spending money.”
We shake hands, the touch brief despite the electricity that still courses between us. Around us, passengers watch with interest, several recording our interaction on their phones.
“Shall we?” I gesture toward the gangway, allowing her to walk ahead.
Together, we disembark, walking side by side but not quite together down the long ramp toward the terminal. At the bottom, Alex waits with my small team, alongside several reporters hoping for a statement.
“Mr. Cole!” One steps forward, microphone extended. “How would you characterize your cruise experience with Dr. Bennett? Sources say you two moved from adversaries to allies on this journey.”
I glance at Harper, who gives an almost imperceptible nod.
“I would say it was enlightening,” I respond. “Dr. Bennett’s expertise provided valuable insights for Cole Tech’s ongoing commitment environmental sustainability. What began as a fight evolved into a mutually beneficial professional exchange?”
“And Dr. Bennett?” Another reporter turns to Harper. “Your initial confrontation with Mr. Cole went viral. Has your opinion of him and Cole Tech changed?”
Harper straightens, every inch the poised scientist. “I am not paid for my opinion, but to find the facts. My findings will be published in the coming weeks, but I can confirm that Cole Tech has showed more genuine environmental commitment than I expected. There remain areas that need improvement, which I’ve documented, but I’m impressed by Mr. Cole’s willingness to acknowledge his shortcomings and commit to fixing them.”
“So, no more champagne throwing?” a reporter jokes.
Harper’s smile is professional but warm. “I believe we’ve found more effective ways to communicate.”
If only they knew just how effective.
“Mr. Cole, will you be implementing Dr. Bennett’s recommendations? At what cost to Cole Tech? Does your board support this?” another asks.
“Without having seen her complete assessment, I can’t commit to specifics,” I reply. “But I value her expertise and perspective. Cole Tech is dedicated to continuous improvement, and insights from respected scientists like Dr. Bennett are crucial to that process.”
Alex steps forward, interrupting before more personal questions can come out of the woodwork. “Thank you all for your interest. Mr. Cole has a board meeting to prepare for, and I’m sure Dr. Bennett has her own obligations.”
As the media disperses, Alex gives me a knowing look that I ignore. She’s been my PR director long enough to recognize when I’m not telling the complete story.
“Your car is waiting, Ethan,” she says. “Dr. Bennett, it was a pleasure to work with you on this project. I look forward to reading your assessment.”
“Thank you for arranging the access,” Harper replies. “It was more transparent than I expected.”
“I’ll bet,” Alex murmurs, too low for others to hear.
I shoot her a warning glance before turning to Harper. “Your Uber should arrive any minute. I’ve arranged for priority interview access when your assessment is published, if you want to?”
“That seems appropriate,” she agrees, her formal tone belied by the warmth in her eyes. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Cole.”
“The pleasure was mine, Dr. Bennett.”
We stand for a moment, the professional facade awkward between us. There’s so much I want to say, to ask, to promise —but not here, not with Alex watching and port staff bustling around us.
Harper solves the dilemma by offering her hand again. As I take it, she presses something small and firm into my palm—a folded piece of paper.
“Safe travels,” she says, releasing my hand and stepping back. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”
“Count on it,” I reply, resisting the urge to open the note.
She nods once, then turns and walks toward the terminal exit.
Only when I’m in the privacy of my car, do I unfold the note. Written in Harper’s neat handwriting is a phone number—her personal cell, not her work contact—and beneath it, three words that make me smile.
Call me tonight.
“Productive professional exchange, huh?” Alex asks from the front passenger seat, turning to face me. “Want to tell me what really happened on that ship?”
“Not particularly,” I reply, tucking the note into my pocket.
“The board meeting is Wednesday. They’ll want a full briefing on her assessment and what to expect from Bennett’s report.”
“They’ll get it.”
“And if they ask about your relationship with her?”
I consider my answer. “I’ll tell them Dr. Bennett and I developed mutual respect through the process, and that I value her scientific expertise and integrity.”
“And the personal aspect?”
“Is personal, Alex. And not relevant to the board’s interests.” My tone makes it clear the subject is closed.
She nods slowly. “Just be careful, E. I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at her just now.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I say, though I’m not sure that’s true. Harper Bennett has upended my controlled life in ways I am not ready for.
“I hope so.” Alex turns back to her tablet. “For what it’s worth, I like her. She doesn’t take your shit, and you need more people like that in your life.”
I smile, thinking of champagne dripping down my suit and Harper’s uncompromising principles. “On that, we agree.”
At the airport, I get through security and boarding, my thoughts divided between the upcoming board meeting and the woman who’s changed my life in less than a week. My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number as I settle into my first-class seat.
Spotted your flight on the departure board. We’re on the same plane. Economy, row 27. The universe has a peculiar sense of humor.
I smile, typing.
A coincidence I’m tempted to interpret as cosmically significant. How’s the legroom in economy these days?
Nonexistent. The passenger in front of me has already reclined, and we haven’t even taken off.
An upgrade offer stands. No professional implications, just legroom considerations.
Her response takes longer this time.
Rain check on the upgrade. But I wouldn’t object to a drink being sent back once we’re airborne. For hydration only.
Hydration is essential. Consider it done.
I signal a flight attendant before takeoff, arranging for champagne to be delivered to row 27 once we’re in the air. The irony of sending her champagne after our first encounter isn’t lost on me.
Two hours into the flight, my phone buzzes again.
The champagne was a nice touch. Much better when I’m drinking it rather than throwing it.
Progress. Though I found both experiences memorable in their own way.
You’re impossible. Also, I may have drafted the opening of my assessment during this flight. It’s... balanced.
I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Integrity looks good on you, Bennett. So does that green dress, by the way.
Stop flirting and let me work, Cole. Some of us use flights productively.
Understood. Though I can think of a more productive use of our time if you’d accepted that upgrade offer...
NOW who’s being unprofessional? Behave yourself until we land.
No promises. But I’ll try.
I spend the rest of the flight reviewing board materials and drafting implementation plans for the environmental initiatives Harper highlighted during her assessment. By the time we begin our descent into New York, I have a comprehensive strategy for accelerating our sustainability timeline—one that will surprise the board but transform Cole Tech’s environmental impact.
As passengers prepare for landing, I send one last text.
Dinner tomorrow night? My place. I’ll cook something organic
.
Her response comes quickly.
You cook?
One of my many hidden talents. Say yes.
Yes. Send your address. I’ll bring wine.
Looking forward to it, Dr. Bennett.
It’s a date, Mr. Cole.
The simple exchange fills me with anticipation. Not just for tomorrow’s dinner, but for the possibilities beyond it—challenging and worth exploring.
When we land, I wait, allowing other first-class passengers to disembark ahead of me. From my seat, I can see down the aisle as economy passengers begin to gather their belongings. Eventually, Harper appears, looking rumpled but no less striking. Our eyes meet across the distance, a private moment of recognition amid the bustle.
She gives me a small smile before disappearing into the terminal crowd.
I follow more slowly, respecting the distance she needs while already planning tomorrow’s menu and imagining her in my apartment, our strange, reversed relationship continuing its unconventional evolution.
Five days ago, Harper Bennett threw champagne in my face and called me an environmental hypocrite. Now she’s coming to my apartment for dinner, having spent two nights in my bed.
Life rarely unfolds according to plan, but sometimes, the unexpected detours lead to far more interesting destinations. And Harper Bennett is undoubtedly the most interesting detour I’ve encountered in years—one I’m certain might become my most important destination.
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.