59 - The Truth Clicked
Hours later, the bedroom door opened, releasing a subtle waft of vanilla perfume into the living room.
Ethan, already dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders, turned from where he stood by the window.
The cutting remark he'd prepared died on his lips as his gaze swept over Scarlett.
She emerged wearing a black sleeveless maxi dress that draped elegantly over her curves, the simplicity of the design only enhancing its sophistication.
Her dark hair cascaded in soft waves past her shoulders, catching the light with each movement.
The dress's modest neckline and the way it skimmed her figure struck a perfect balance between professional and alluring—elegant without trying to be.
Ethan's breath caught imperceptibly as he took in the sight of her. A flicker of genuine admiration crossed his features before he schooled his expression back to indifference, though his eyes lingered a moment too long to be casual.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice worse than intended.
Scarlett nodded once, reaching for a small clutch on the side table. "As I'll ever be."
They descended to the parking garage in silence, the air between them charged with unspoken words and carefully maintained distance.
Ethan led her to his sleek black Aston Martin, opening the passenger door with a gesture that might have appeared chivalrous to an outside observer but was performed with mechanical precision.
As the engine purred to life, Scarlett broke the silence. "You're driving these days?" she asked, genuine surprise coloring her tone as she glanced sideways at him.
Ethan kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his strong hands gripping the steering wheel. "I like it," he replied simply, the corner of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly.
She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, studying his profile in the dim light. "So, you enjoy something other than business? Good to know," she remarked, a hint of genuine curiosity tempering her sarcasm.
Ethan didn't respond, his fingers tightening fractionally on the wheel as he navigated through evening traffic. The city lights blurred past them, casting alternating patterns of light and shadow across their faces.
After several minutes of loaded silence, Scarlett spoke again, her voice softer than before, almost hesitant. "Thanks for helping me with the proposal."
Ethan exhaled slowly through his nose, his shoulders relaxing by a fraction. "I had to," he said, keeping his eyes on the road. "I can't just sit back and watch my business slip away." The words were businesslike, but lacked the earlier bite.
A small, genuine smile ghosted across Scarlett's lips, softening her features. "Good. Your business is safe," she replied, a hint of playfulness warming her tone.
The car glided to a stop in front of the hotel entrance, its gleaming fa?ade promising luxury within.
Ethan handed the keys to a waiting valet, then moved to Scarlett's side.
His hand found its way to the small of her back as they walked toward the entrance—a gesture that appeared intimate but felt practiced, calculated.
Scarlett stiffened momentarily at his touch before consciously relaxing, playing her part in their charade.
The hotel lobby gleamed with marble floors and crystal chandeliers, the soft murmur of conversation and the delicate notes of a piano creating an atmosphere of refined elegance.
A tasteful name board directed them toward the poolside party, where string lights reflected off the still water, casting a warm, golden glow over the gathered guests.
Scarlett's gaze swept across the crowd, landing on a familiar figure that made her breath catch.
Catherine stood near the bar, her blonde hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders, her form-fitting red dress leaving little to the imagination.
As if sensing their arrival, Catherine looked up, her bright smile widening into something predatory as she spotted Ethan.
"Ethan!" Catherine's voice rang out above the ambient chatter as she practically glided across the floor, throwing her arms around him with practiced familiarity.
Ethan's entire body went rigid at the contact, his hands staying firmly at his sides, his jaw tightening visibly.
After an awkward second that seemed to stretch endlessly, he took a deliberate step back, creating distance between them.
Catherine's perfectly painted smile faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered, one manicured hand lingering on Ethan's arm.
"Let's celebrate our joint venture!" she exclaimed, her voice honeyed with excitement.
"I'll be handling this branch for Andrian.
" Her eyes flickered to Scarlett before returning to Ethan, her smile sharpening.
"I'm so happy I get the chance to be with you.
" She paused meaningfully, then added with a smirk, "I mean, closely working with you. "
Ethan's expression remained carefully unreadable, though a muscle twitched in his jaw.
"Good to hear, Catherine," he replied, his tone neutral but cool.
"Let's go meet Andrian." With a subtle movement, he shifted closer to Scarlett, his hand returning to the small of her back in a gesture that seemed more genuine than before.
Scarlett felt a strange twist in her stomach at Catherine's words and possessive stance.
Was she always like this with him? Finding moments to brush against him, to claim territory?
She pushed the uncomfortable thought aside, reminding herself that whatever existed—or had existed—between Ethan and Catherine wasn't her concern.
Still, she couldn't help but notice how quickly Ethan had disengaged from the woman's embrace.
They made their way through the crowded terrace toward a tall, distinguished man standing near the pool.
Andrian Richard cut an impressive figure in his charcoal suit, his salt-and-pepper hair adding to his air of authority.
As they approached, Scarlett couldn't help but remember their first meeting in Greece—the surprise and intrigue in his eyes when she'd mentioned her new husband, a man she'd barely known herself at the time.
"Ah, the Blackwoods," Andrian greeted them warmly, his sharp eyes flickering between Ethan and Scarlett with undisguised interest. "Glad you both made it.
" He extended his hand to Ethan first, their handshake firm and businesslike, before turning to Scarlett with a warmer smile.
The subtle shift wasn't lost on Ethan, whose hand tightened imperceptibly on Scarlett's waist.
As the evening progressed, they found themselves seated at a table overlooking the illuminated pool.
The conversation naturally gravitated toward business—market projections, expansion plans, competitive strategies.
Ethan and Andrian dominated the discussion, their voices rising and falling with the intensity of their exchange.
Scarlett sat quietly beside Ethan, occasionally sipping her champagne, her expression attentive despite her minimal contribution.
After what felt like an hour of technical discussion, Andrian's gaze shifted to Scarlett, amusement dancing in his eyes as he noted her polite but distant expression.
"The lady seems bored," he observed with a charming smile.
"Should we change the topic?" He winked at her, the gesture friendly yet somehow intimate.
Scarlett blinked in surprise, warmth creeping into her cheeks. "No, Andrian," she replied quickly, straightening in her seat. "Your discussion is fascinating."
Ethan's gaze darted between them, his expression hardening almost imperceptibly. He shifted in his chair, casually draping his arm across the back of Scarlett's seat—a gesture that looked relaxed but felt distinctly possessive.
Andrian's lips curved into a knowing smirk before his expression turned serious once more. "Actually, Mr. Blackwood," he began, leaning forward slightly, "I have a favor to ask."
Ethan's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Yes, Mr. Richard?" he responded, his tone carefully measured.
"I reviewed Scarlett's designs in detail," Andrian said, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against his glass.
"They're phenomenal—full of soul and innovation.
But they need a few refinements to align perfectly with our vision.
" His gaze shifted to Scarlett, lingering appreciatively.
"I'd like her to work directly on the design aspects for this branch. Her talent would be... invaluable."
A weighted silence followed the request. Ethan's expression remained impassive, but Scarlett felt the subtle tensing of his body beside her. His gaze flicked toward her, assessing, before returning to Andrian.
"Yes, Mr. Richard," he finally nodded, his voice controlled. "She can work on them."
Andrian turned to Scarlett, his eyes warm with approval. "Is that okay with you, Scar?"
Scarlett smiled, genuine pleasure lighting her features. "Of course,Andrian" she replied, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. This was the opportunity she'd been hoping for—a chance to prove herself beyond Ethan's shadow.
The three clinked glasses in celebration of their arrangement. Just as they set their drinks down, Catherine appeared at Ethan's elbow, her perfume announcing her presence before her words.
"Ethan," she murmured, her fingers brushing his sleeve, "come with me for a moment. I'd like to introduce you to someone." Her eyes deliberately avoided Scarlett's gaze.
Ethan hesitated, glancing at Scarlett with an unreadable expression before excusing himself. Scarlett watched them go, Catherine's hand placed possessively on Ethan's arm as she guided him through the crowd.
"She never gives up, does she?" Andrian's voice, tinged with amusement, drew Scarlett's attention back to him.
Scarlett offered a noncommittal smile. "You know her well?"
"Well enough," he replied cryptically, rising from his seat. "Walk with me? The acoustics here make conversation difficult."
They strolled along the poolside, the water reflecting the string lights above in shimmering patterns.
Andrian spoke at length about her designs, praising elements she'd thought insignificant while offering constructive criticism on others.
He suggested incorporating French architectural elements to enhance the unique character of the project—an idea that immediately sparked Scarlett's imagination.
She listened attentively, occasionally offering insights of her own, her initial nervousness fading as they fell into a rhythm of creative exchange.
Across the terrace, Ethan stood with Catherine and an older business associate, only half-listening to their conversation.
His gaze repeatedly drifted to where Scarlett and Andrian walked by the pool, their heads bent close in conversation, occasional laughter floating across the space between them.
Something cold and unfamiliar twisted in his chest as he watched Andrian lean closer to Scarlett, pointing at something on his phone screen, their shoulders nearly touching.
"They're getting along well, aren't they?
" Catherine mused beside him, following his line of sight.
She swirled the amber liquid in her glass, her voice deliberately casual.
"I've never seen Andrian this friendly with a woman before.
" She tilted her head, studying Ethan's tense profile. "I've known him for years, you know."
Ethan's jaw tightened, his fingers curling around his glass with enough force to whiten his knuckles.
"But you don't know anything about Scarlett, Catherine," he cut her off, his voice low and sharp.
Without another word, he strode purposefully toward his wife, leaving Catherine staring after him, lips parted in surprise.
Before he could reach them, an older man's voice called out from his right. "Hello, my boy! How are you?"
Ethan turned, momentarily caught off guard. "Mr. Oliver?"
The older man, silver-haired and distinguished in a classic tuxedo, beamed at him with genuine warmth.
A close friend of his grandfather and longtime family ally, he'd been away for months.
"Your grandpa told me you're married," he said, clasping Ethan's hand firmly.
"Sorry, dear boy, I was out of the country.
I heard you got married..Congratulations! "
Ethan inclined his head, a practiced smile sliding into place. "Thank you, Mr. Oliver. Just a moment—I'd like you to meet my wife."
Without waiting for a response, he continued toward Scarlett, his movements deliberate and unhurried despite the urgency he felt.
"Scarlett," he called, his voice carrying clearly across the space between them.
"I'd like you to meet someone." His gaze shifted to Andrian, the smile not reaching his eyes. "Excuse us, Mr. Richard."
He grasped Scarlett's wrist gently but unmistakably possessively, his thumb brushing over her pulse point in a gesture that appeared affectionate to observers but sent a clear message to Andrian.
The older man watched them go, his eyes narrowing slightly, a thoughtful expression settling on his features.
Ethan guided Scarlett toward Mr. Oliver, his hand shifting from her wrist to the small of her back in a smooth transition. "Mr. Oliver, this is my wife, Scarlett," he introduced, a hint of genuine pride coloring his voice despite himself.
Scarlett smiled warmly, extending her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Oliver. Ethan has mentioned your friendship with his grandfather."
The older man chuckled, clasping her hand between both of his. "Oh! Glad to meet you, my child. Ethan has made an excellent choice." His eyes twinkled as he looked between them. "Your grandfather would be proud, Ethan. She has spirit—I can see it in her eyes."
They chatted briefly about family matters and old memories before Scarlett politely excused herself to visit the ladies' room. As she walked away, Mr. Oliver placed a weathered hand on Ethan's shoulder, his expression turning serious.
"Don't let her go, my boy," he said quietly, his eyes following Scarlett's retreating figure. "She'll give you everything you need."
Ethan frowned slightly, unsure how to interpret the words. "We're still... adjusting," he replied carefully.
Mr. Oliver's hand remained on Ethan's shoulder, the weight of it steady, deliberate—like a man who had lived long enough to recognize truths others avoided.
"All marriages require work," he said quietly. Then he paused, his gaze drifting past Ethan, softening as it found Scarlett across the room. A wistful smile tugged at his lips. "But the good ones..." Another beat. "The good ones are worth fighting for."
Ethan didn't respond.
His eyes followed the line of Mr. Oliver's gaze, locking onto Scarlett's retreating figure. The way the lights caught in her hair. The subtle tension in her posture. The space she kept, even when she stood beside him.
Something settled heavy in his chest as the words echoed.
Worth fighting for.
He didn't look away.
From across the room, Andrian watched the interaction carefully, his sharp eyes missing nothing—not the way Ethan's hand had lingered on Scarlett's back, nor the stiffness in her posture when he'd touched her.
Something about them felt... discordant.
They moved like dancers who'd learned different choreographies, their movements appearing coordinated to casual observers but revealing fundamental disconnects to a careful eye.
They didn't look like a couple deeply in love—or even in like. The puzzle pieces didn't fit.
"Catherine," he called softly as the blonde approached, her expression sour after Ethan's dismissal. "How long have they been married?"
"A month," she replied tersely, downing the remainder of her champagne.
A month. The timeline clicked into place in Andrian's mind.
When he'd met Scarlett in Greece three weeks ago, she had being recently married—yet she'd been alone, free to spend days showing him around the islands.
Meanwhile, Ethan had been in Athens for business meetings—meetings with Andrian's associates, who had mentioned nothing about Ethan's new bride joining him.
Left alone while her husband worked, Scarlett had spent time with him instead. The pieces assembled into a picture that was becoming clearer by the minute.
Across the room, he observed Ethan's possessive stance beside Scarlett as they spoke with an elderly couple, the careful distance between their bodies despite the appearance of closeness, the way their smiles never quite reached their eyes simultaneously.
Andrian leaned back against the bar, a knowing smirk forming on his lips as he swirled his drink thoughtfully. The realization was both surprising and oddly satisfying.
They didn't marry for love.
The question of why such a union existed—what drove two people who clearly tolerated each other at best to bind themselves together—piqued his curiosity. Was it business? Family pressure? Financial necessity?
Whatever the reason, Andrian decided, it created an opportunity he hadn't anticipated. His gaze lingered on Scarlett, taking in her elegant profile and the subtle tension in her shoulders as she stood beside her husband.
He would wait to find out why. And perhaps, in the process, discover how that knowledge might be useful.
As for his feelings about this revelation.
.. Andrian felt a complex mixture of intrigue, opportunity, and—though he'd never admit it—disappointment.
The disappointment stemmed not from jealousy, but from the realization that the fascinating woman he'd met in Greece was trapped in what appeared to be a loveless arrangement.
The businessman in him saw strategic advantage; the man in him saw possibility.
Either way, the game had just become significantly more interesting.