Chapter 24
Jamie
The limo purrs away from the princess's mansion, and I sink into the soft leather seat with relief, kicking off my heels. I’m still a little tense from the party, from sneaking around upstairs and facing the unfriendly princess. My palms feel sweaty.
"Do you think the princess could be behind those threats you got?” I ask Ethan.
"Ulrika?" He blinks at me, clearly surprised. Then he gives his head a firm shake. "No. She wanted to partner with me on that development deal she was talking about. Besides, she's royalty. Even if she didn't like me, she wouldn't stoop to sending threatening photos."
I bite my lip, thinking about the red ink I found on her desk. But Ethan seems so certain, and I don't want to push the idea without proof. I'll get Kayla to test the ink first and find out whether it matches what was used on the photos.
“Come back to my place,” Ethan says, breaking into my thoughts. “Marcus will cook us some dinner.”
I glance out the window. We’re heading back into the city, not too far from the gym. I know this area well, and a childhood memory flashes through my mind, Uncle Willis treating me to late-night donuts. The thought makes me smile.
“It’s my turn to feed you,” I say. “Let’s stop for something.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Steve?" I call to the driver. "Could you take a right up ahead? There are some food carts not far away.”
Ethan raises an eyebrow. “Food carts?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, is street food beneath your refined palate?"
He gives me a flat look. “I practically lived on street food as a kid. But now I have Marcus.”
“I agree, Marcus is amazing. But give this a try.”
A few minutes later, Steve pulls up to the curb.
The small group of carts have been in this spot for as long as I can remember.
Their customers perch on rickety plastic stools around equally rickety tables, eating with relish.
When I open the car door, the rich scents of the food hit me, and I grin with anticipation.
"Come on," I say, sliding out of the limo.
Ethan follows, and I take him to the far truck where we join the short line waiting to order. In his perfectly tailored suit, he stands out. But it’s not just the suit that makes the other customers give him second-and-third glances. He’s also smoking hot.
I order us both burgers, done the way I like them, with cheese, pickle, and plenty of hot sauce.
Ethan goes to the cocktail truck and comes back with two mojitos.
Then we carry our food and drinks over to the seating area, where Ethan studies his stool, probably assessing how recent the stains are, before he sits down.
When he bites into his burger, sauce runs down his chin. With a laugh, I hand him extra napkins.
“It’s good,” he says, wiping his fingers.
“Hm-mm,” I agree around a mouth full of burger.
We finish our food and the cocktails, then I tell him to wait where he is, and I go to another food truck.
This is the real reason I wanted to come here, to get us each a chocolate-dipped donut, still hot from the fryer.
The vendor hands them over wrapped in paper napkins, chocolate gleaming, and I carry them over to Ethan with the aroma of fried dough and sugar making my mouth water
When he takes a bite of his donut, his eyes widen. “Wow. Delicious."
I laugh. "They're good, right? I mean, not Marcus-level good. Nothing compares to his chocolate soufflé. But this has got to be second.”
He takes another bite, clearly savoring it. "Did you come here a lot as a kid?"
"Yeah. Uncle Willis would bring me here after the gym closed." I smile at the memory. "What about you? Any comfort food spots from when you were young?"
"There was this hot dog stand near our place," he says. "The guy who ran it would give me free ones sometimes. Said I was too skinny."
I try to picture a skinny young Ethan, probably all elbows and knees, nothing like the broad-shouldered man beside me now. I bet he was super cute. I’d love to see photos.
“What else did you like doing as a kid?" I ask.
“Don’t judge, but...” He gives me a sheepish look that’s so unlike his usual casual arrogance, I can hardly recognize him. “I really liked those kung fu movies they used to show late at night on TV. The ones where the dubbing was completely off.”
"No way!" I nearly choke on my donut. "Enter the Dragon? I love that move!”
His lips curve up, dimples on full beam. “Five Deadly Venoms was my favorite."
"Oh my God, I haven't thought about that movie in years!" I shake my head, grinning. "The fighters were so cool."
"What about you?" he asks. "Favorite guilty pleasure movie?"
“Anything with good fight scenes. Rocky. Creed. Kill Bill.” I hesitate, flushing a little. “Karate Kid. The original one.”
“That tracks.” His focus is back on his donut. It’s nothing more than he expected.
What the hell. I hate to be boring. “And a few that are a little different,” I confess. “Promise not to laugh?"
His eyes spark with curiosity. “No promises."
I grimace. "Legally Blonde.”
“Really?” He looks so delighted, it makes me laugh.
“And A League of Their Own. Oh, and Kung Fu Panda. I love a good underdog movie.”
“A League of Their Own is a classic.” He crinkles his brow and puts on an outraged tone. “There’s no crying in baseball!”
I burst out laughing. “Pretty good Tom Hanks impression.”
“I haven’t seen Kung Fu Panda,” he admits.
“Well, it’s just as good,” I say, licking chocolate off my fingers.
“Noted.” His gaze drops to my mouth and his eyes are dark and intent.
My heart stumbles, and I have to look away. These moments keep catching me off guard. One minute we’re joking together, and the next moment, heat is curling low in my body. My thoughts jump to the vivid memory of kissing him, and my thighs clench with want.
"My team will start work on the gym on Monday," he says after a moment, his tone casual. "Once they start, they'll be pulling out asbestos and it'll be toxic. You won't have any access until they're done."
My stomach does a little flip. It’s hard to believe that the gym will finally be repaired. No more leaks. No more buckets. No more cancelling classes because the rain is too heavy, and the mats are wet.
At the same time, moving in with Ethan, even temporarily, feels like a huge step.
Dangerous territory. I don't do well with change, and my room above the gym is my safe place. Every day, I feel myself slipping deeper into this thing between me and Ethan, and it’s happening so fast, I feel as though I’m sliding on ice.
"Okay," I say, keeping my voice steady. "I'll make sure to grab my stuff before Monday. I'll move into your place then."
The words come out sounding normal, but inside, I'm freaking out. Ethan has me flustered. Every time I think of Bartholomew and the other Crystal Heights tenants, I remember why I hated Ethan’s ruthlessness. But now I understand him better, it’s not so black and white.
"You okay?" he asks softly.
I realize I've been quiet too long. "Yeah," I say, managing a smile.
A cool breeze skitters over me, and I shiver. Ethan shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. The fabric is warm from his body, and his scent surrounds me. It’s masculine and even more delicious than the donuts. It makes my head spin.
"Ready to head back?" he asks.
I nod, standing up. As we walk back to the limo, his hand finds the small of my back. It's a casual touch, probably unconscious on his part, and his jacket is between his hand and my body. For some reason, his touch still sends tingles up my spine.
Steve is waiting with the car door open. Before I can slide in, Ethan catches my hand.
"Jamie?"
I turn to face him, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. His eyes drop to my lips, and my breath catches. But then he just smiles, soft and genuine.
"Thanks for showing me your donut spot," he says, looking so impossibly handsome that my legs go boneless, my knees ridiculously weak. If anyone attacked right now, we’d be easy prey.
I smile back, ignoring the flutter in my chest. "Thanks for being willing to slum it."
“I’m never slumming it when I’m with you.” He sounds serious, the compliment catching me off guard.
My immediate instinct is to make a joke or say something sarcastic.
To relieve the intensity of the moment and stop my limbs from weakening so much that they’re entirely useless.
But his eyes are dark again, his gaze moving slowly over my face, and my breath is caught in my throat. I can’t say a word.
The flutter in my chest turns into a baby elephant stampede.
But Steve says something I don’t catch, and Ethan glances away from me to say something back. Then he helps me into the car, and I melt into the back seat, entirely limp.
As we drive back through the city, I lean my head against the window, watching the lights blur past. In three days, I'll be living in Ethan's penthouse. Sleeping under his roof. Sharing his space.
I can pretend it's just a practical, temporary decision. But deep down, I know better. Every moment with him pulls me closer to something I can't control, can't escape, and can't fight.
And that's what makes this whole thing terrifying.