Chapter 19
Willow
Ethan did not answer Lily's question.
He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, the wind lifting his light-brown hair.
I did not know why, but the Ethan who had always been so easygoing suddenly looked cold. Hard.
Those eyes that usually held a gentle smile watched Artyom without a ripple, like a bottomless lake with something dark moving under the surface—something I had never seen in him.
I looked at Ethan, then at Artyom across from us.
Artyom stood there, his dark-gray eyes on me, like he had been waiting for me to speak. Quietly. Patiently. The sunset carved a thin line of gold along his profile.
I drew in a breath and broke the dead air first. "That's Ethan. He was my friend when I was a kid."
Ethan gave a small smile and nodded at Artyom and Lily.
It was quick. No handshake. No step forward.
Lily, standing beside Artyom, moved half a step ahead.
She stopped in front of me. Her eyes were still red, tear tracks clinging to her lashes.
"Willow, I'm sorry." Her nose looked pink. "What happened at the office—it was my fault. I didn't hold my cup steady. I burned myself and made you worry."
Her voice came out soft, wounded, like she had been the one wronged.
"And don't blame Artyom," she paused, like she had been picking the safest words, "he was just anxious. He didn't ignore you."
It landed wrong.
I hadn't blamed Artyom.
I had only blamed myself for not knowing my place.
Ethan stood beside me. He didn't jump in, but his body shifted—like he had slid himself in front of me.
"Miss Blake," Ethan said with that easy smile, "Mr. Sokolov didn't say he ignored Willow. Why are you speaking for him?"
The air froze.
Lily let out a small sound and rushed to explain. "I didn't mean it like that. I just—"
Ethan cut her off. "If you didn't mean it, then you should keep your mouth shut. Whatever happens between them is theirs to talk through. Playing messenger is how people screw things up."
His tone stayed mild. That familiar smile stayed put.
But his words were sharp as ice.
Lily shut her mouth. The color drained from her face. In the end she couldn't get anything out, just stood there stiff and awkward.
She looked at me. "Willow, I didn't mean it. Don't misunderstand me."
I met her eyes and forced a weird little smile. "It's fine."
The wind seemed to turn colder, snapping at the hem of my coat.
Ethan stayed half a step in front of me. It wasn't aggressive, but it felt like a wall—cutting me off from Lily and Artyom.
Artyom didn't move.
His gaze went right past Lily's shoulder and locked onto me.
Those dark-gray eyes looked calm, unreadable.
Still, I felt it—how tightly he was wound, like a bow pulled to the limit, ready to break.
"I'll treat everyone to dinner?" I said.
I dropped my gaze, dodging his eyes.
From what I knew of Artyom, he should've said no.
Ethan looked at Artyom. "So, Mr. Sokolov—are you free?"
Artyom didn't speak, but his foot shifted forward half a step, like that was his answer.
Lily stayed half a step behind him. She smiled at me. "I'm starving too. Mind if I join?"
"Sure."
Lily smiled sweetly and offered, "I know a good place. Really nice. It's a little pricey, but it's fine once in a while, right?"
She said it like she was worrying about my budget for me.
"Okay."
When the car stopped out front, I realized it was a private restaurant.
Low-key. Hidden. No sign. Just a heavy, dark wooden door.
Lily pushed it open like she belonged there. Warm light spilled out.
Inside was bigger than it looked from the street. The décor was minimalist and cool-toned, but everything about it screamed expensive.
A server approached without a sound and dipped his head, clearly recognizing a regular.
"Same table?" he asked.
Artyom nodded.
Lily acted like the special treatment was nothing, smiling as she led the way.
I followed last, looking at the paintings along the walls—cold, sharp colors that didn't match the warm lighting at all, yet somehow fit Artyom perfectly.
Our usual spot sat in the corner: a round table with a perfect view.
Ethan pulled out a chair for me. I nodded my thanks and sat.
He sat down at my side like it was the most natural thing in the world, like we had done it a thousand times.
Artyom watched me, his stare deep and steady.
He let out a low, humorless laugh, then sat. Lily settled in next to him.
The server handed over the menus.
Lily took hers and rattled off a few house specialties.
Ethan leaned in and asked if I had any restrictions. I shook my head. Anything was fine.
Artyom never touched the leather-bound menu.
He leaned back, looking at no one. His gaze went through the floor-to-ceiling window into the black night outside.
"Mr. Sokolov?" the server prompted politely.
Artyom pulled his eyes back, flicked a glance at the menu in Lily's hands, and said flatly, "Do what she said."
Lily closed the menu and handed it back, then smiled at me. "Their red wine's pretty good. Want to try some?"
Ethan was about to speak, but Artyom cut in first. "She doesn't drink."
Ethan lifted a brow and looked at me, like he was checking whether that was true.
I lowered my lashes and let it stand.
It wasn't that I couldn't drink. It was that in a room this tense, any loss of control turned into a disaster. And Artyom clearly didn't want to give me even the smallest chance to slip.
The menu ended up in my hands. I felt awkward.
Ethan leaned closer. "The steak is solid. And this soup—good for warming you up."
Gratitude loosened something in my chest. I smiled at him.
I circled the two things he'd suggested and handed the menu back to the server.
Artyom's eyes paused on my face for a second, then slid away.
Even that one glance held no warmth. It felt like silent judgment.
Lily switched to chatting about a new gallery show, voice bright, trying to shake the heaviness off the table.
Even when nobody played along, she kept talking anyway, nonstop.
Ethan followed her lead, throwing in explanations for me now and then.
Artyom sat across from us. I got the sense he hadn't come to eat. He had come to watch—me and Ethan.
When the food arrived, Ethan moved the fish from his plate onto a clean dish and slid it in front of me.
The fillet had been neatly prepped. No bones. Clean edges.
"Eat it while it's hot."
I looked down at it, picked up my fork, and thanked him softly. "Thanks, Ethan."
He smiled. "Anytime."
Artyom's fork clicked against the rim of his plate.
It wasn't loud. But it drew a line.
I lifted my head and found him staring at Ethan. "How long have you two known each other?"
"A long time," Ethan said. "Almost twenty years."
"Twenty years." Artyom repeated it, then turned his eyes to me. "Do you know who he is?"
The question was strange. Like Ethan had been something more.
But Ethan was Ethan—my friend, the one I'd finally found again.
I nodded. "I know."
He watched me without looking away. "Then you should know some things can't be judged just because someone is a friend."
I didn't understand what he meant.
Was he telling me to stay away from Ethan?
Why?
Ethan smiled. "Mr. Sokolov, don't you think you are getting a little controlling? Why are you interfering with who Willow spends time with?"
Artyom ignored the provocation.
He looked straight into my eyes, and the chill of it crawled under my skin. "And you? Do you trust me, or do you trust him?"
Silence snapped into place.
I swallowed without meaning to.
I didn't understand why Artyom wanted me to pick.
Ethan was my friend, someone I hadn't seen in forever.
Artyom was the man I wanted and couldn't have.
They weren't even in the same category. There was nothing to compare.
But with him staring at me like that, pressing, my mind went blank.
Ethan's smile faded a notch, though his voice stayed gentle. "Willow doesn't need to make that kind of pointless choice. She is free, Mr. Sokolov."
Lily smoothed it over. "Willow is obviously free. Artyom, try the soup. It's really good."
Artyom suddenly slammed his tongs down on his plate.
"Only she would like this trash food."
My smile locked in place like it had been glued there.
Lily sat beside him and tugged on his sleeve, whispering, "Artyom, don't," but when she glanced at me, there was a tiny flash of satisfaction she didn't hide fast enough.
Ethan's face darkened. He started to speak, but I shook my head first, telling him not to.
I lowered my head and brought the spoon to my mouth.
I couldn't taste a damn thing, but I kept chewing anyway, mechanically.
So that was it.
He was drawing the line.
Lily had been right. We weren't from the same world.
He was the untouchable CEO, with someone like Lily—his perfect, well-matched childhood friend—at his side.
And I was just a nobody, a basic office worker who could even turn his fancy gala into a joke by knocking over a champagne tower.
The ugly things he'd said were just to push me back, to make me back off, to make sure I stopped having fantasies I had no right to have.
Fine.
We shouldn't have crossed paths in the first place.
I kept my head down and ate for nearly an hour. Only when I'd cleaned my plate did I set my chopsticks down, murmur that I was full, and wave the server over for the check.
The server came with the bill and read out the number with a polite smile.
I went rigid.
Four digits.
Heat flooded my face. I fumbled through my bag.
The cash in my wallet wasn't even close. I'd just paid rent. What was left on my card wouldn't cover half of it.
Embarrassment rolled over me like a wave. I couldn't even lift my head to see Artyom's expression. I bit my lip and awkwardly told the server to give me a second so I could transfer money.
"No need."
Ethan's voice came from beside me.
He pulled out a black card and handed it over, quick and clean.
Then he turned to me with a grin. "We finally got to see each other again. There is no way I am letting a beautiful lady pick up the tab."
I knew what he had been doing.
He'd seen I couldn't pay. He'd saved me.
When the payment went through, he hooked an arm around my shoulders like it was nothing. "You two suit yourselves. I'm taking Willow home."
He guided me toward the door, half-shielding me. Right before we stepped out, I glanced back without thinking.
Artyom still sat there, unmoving.
His face looked like thunder. His fingers crushed the glass in his grip, and his dark-gray eyes pinned me down, emotion churning in them—stuff I couldn't read.
Lily sat next to him and reached for his arm.
He shook her off.
I didn't dare look again. I snapped my head forward and followed Ethan out of the restaurant.
Outside, the wind had a bite to it. I pulled my coat tighter.
I heard Hall say his car was parked by the curb. I nodded and walked with him, and I didn't look back.