6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
N o regrets.
It’s what my mother used to say to me, it’s why I’m in Hawaii right now, chasing my dreams. It’s a way of life that I embrace where my career is concerned, but never, ever in my personal life. “What happens in Hawaii, stays in Hawaii,” I joke nervously, because do I dare think about where this night is leading me with Ethan Dalton?
“I’d say we can pick and choose what gets to stay and what gets to go.”
This is not the reply I expect. It, in fact, implies there might be a tomorrow for us when I doubt that very seriously. He pulls my chair out and offers me a seat. I’m happy to sit, to grab just a moment to calm my nervous energy and confusion over this man. He sits next to me, his obvious choice. He could have sat anywhere else, there are many seats open, but he’s right here, right next to me.
The waiter reappears and sets our glasses beside us, and the bottle in between our place settings. “The food should begin coming out in the next five minutes.” And then we’re alone .
“What have you done with your brand thus far?” Ethan asks, and when I shift to look at him, not only is he already angled toward me, I realize just how close we are—intimately, romantically close.
I wet my lips, and I’m aware of his gaze tracing my tongue, and Lord, help me. my nipples pucker against the thin material of my dress. Perhaps going braless was not a good idea, just as this secluded gathering with Ethan may not be either, but no regrets, right? I shove aside my reaction to this man and force my brain to refocus on the words he’s spoken, or rather the question he’s asked. What have I done with my brand thus far? “Nothing compared to what you’ve done with yours,” I reply. “But I’m working on changing that.”
“I inherited mine,” he counters. “You’re an entrepreneur working for what you desire.”
“According to your wiki page, you work pretty hard yourself. I’m sure running an empire is no small job, but one I hope to experience one day.”
“Then don’t sell to Moore’s.”
“Noted,” I say, “and though I’m a little discouraged by this suggestion, I can assure you it’s well received. On the other hand, any advice you have to offer would be welcomed.”
“Despite sitting on Moore’s board, that’s not my expertise, but I know people who can help. If you want to send me your designs, I’ll see what I can do.”
I’m blown away by such an offer. “Why would you be that generous?”
“One thing your wiki search doesn’t tell you is that I help people where I can.”
But he didn’t help my father. I’m very confused by this. Is it only women he helps? This is not an idea I enjoy much at all. “How do you choose who you help?”
“If it’s an investment, it has to be sound and not weighted with debt. ”
Investments have to be sound , I repeat in my mind, and my heart sinks with the reality this statement delivers. Maybe Ethan isn’t an asshole. Maybe my father is in that much debt, and if I don’t take the Moore’s deal, I can’t help him.
“But,” Ethan adds, “it depends on the type of help. Someone like yourself who’s ambitious and putting in the work, on the edge of success, appeals to me. I also like that you didn’t ask for the help, in fact, you shut that idea down from the start.”
I’m so confused right now. Are we playing with the idea of a one-night stand, or is this something wholly different? And what do I want from Ethan? At least one night, I decide. I mean, how can I not? He’s gorgeous. He’s as alpha as it gets, and I’ve never actually been with a man as powerful and male as him. The sex has to be life-changing, right?
A server we have not seen before arrives with two bowls in hand. “This is a salad of Hawaiian hearts of palm. This includes an avocado purée, radishes, and a lime vinaigrette.” He sets the dishes in front of us. “Enjoy. Can I get you anything else?”
Ethan glances at me with a question in his eyes. “No, thank you,” I reply to him and the server, who I smile up at. “I’m excited to try it.”
“We’re excited to help you experience the island,” he replies before turning his attention to Ethan, who shakes his head. The waiter then bows his head and departs.
“Remember,” Ethan says. “No regrets.” But when his eyes meet mine, heat spirals between us, and it’s clear he’s not talking about the food. “It’s one night of indulgence,” he adds.
Nerves defeat the whiskey flowing through my body, but not my tendency to become a bit too honest while drinking. “I’m not really a one-night kind of girl,” I murmur. “I’m just not.”
His eyes darken, a look in their depths I can only call animalistic, and my body replies with a resounding “yes” to whatever it is he is offering, awareness tingling in every part of me .
“If you make everything bigger than the moment,” he says, “you can’t enjoy the experience you’re living.”
He’s not wrong, but I’m also aware of the confusing messages he’s sending. In one breath, he’s talking about helping me with my designs, which is most definitely not us and one night. In another, he tells me this is one night. Maybe we don’t know what this is, and maybe for once I don’t need to define anything and everything. I reach for my glass and empty it, knowing full well it’s the end of logical thinking. And that’s what I want. When I set it down, he refills it, and I watch the amber liquid cover the ice cubes.
One night , I tell myself.
I want it. That’s all this has to become.
No regrets.
When I look at him, he’s studying me, his eyes are as warm as my body feels, and the new dose of the amber scotch whiskey has me feeling a bit more daring. “Does this mean I can ask you anything, and you’ll answer?” I say, though I really don’t know what I’d ask him. Not yet, at least.
“It depends. Can I ask you anything and you’ll answer?”
Somehow the idea of him asking me anything is far more intimidating than me asking him the same. Which is silly. Outside of him asking me my name, there is nothing about me that is a secret. “Only if I ask you first and you answer.”
“As long as this is quid pro quo, you get one question, and I’ll answer no matter what. Ask away.”
What do I want to know from this man? Everything , I surprise myself by thinking, and that’s too much. “I think I’ll wait to ask my question.”
His full, dangerously intense mouth curves. “Don’t wait too long. Because I don’t plan on giving up my turn.