Chapter 5
NATALIE
I watch Ethan reach for his coffee with his right hand. Almost instantly, his eyebrows lift, and he switches hands. He’s not accustomed to using his left hand, but according to him, he’s not allowed to flex his palm for another week.
It’s been almost a month since the injury, and now it’s August. Not once has he complained.
He goes about his day like everything is fine and he didn’t just sustain a debilitating injury protecting me from an overzealous employee.
It’s hard to hate a man who got injured because of me and hasn’t uttered a word of discomfort during all these weeks we have spent together.
My mind drifts to a memory from when I was seven and wanted to learn how to ride a bike.
Lucas had offered to teach me. He had been holding onto the handles of the bike before he let go suddenly.
I remember crying, trying to grab the handles, but it had been too late.
I had lost control of the bike and crashed into him because he hadn’t stepped back in time.
He twisted his wrist as a result. For a month, he never let me hear the end of it .
And he was my brother.
So for Ethan to act so nonchalant about his injury, which is not a small one by any means, makes me feel tense. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to say something, to remind me of what he did for me.
Over these past weeks, we’ve worked closely together on the company restructuring.
The process has been more extensive than either of us initially anticipated—what started as a simple evaluation turned into a complete overhaul of multiple departments.
Ethan’s been thorough, methodical, and surprisingly collaborative throughout the entire process.
“This is the list of female staff hired last year.” I hand Ethan a paper, focusing on the task at hand. “All of them are very young with no experience and were placed in high positions within the company.”
“What is their educational background?” He touches his beard thoughtfully.
When I first met him five years ago, he was clean-shaven. The beard is new. He was always ridiculously attractive; with his piercing amber eyes and cold demeanor, he created a commanding, authoritative presence.
I grimace, my gaze focused on his beard. I never liked men with facial hair, but it suits him.
My grimace transforms into a scowl.
Why does he have to look so devastatingly handsome?
Why couldn’t he be ugly? Or old? Or both?
“Natalie.” Ethan clears his throat. “Is there something on my face that displeases you?”
I blink. “Sorry, what?”
He’s lounging in his chair and observes me with those penetrating eyes. “You’ve been glaring at me for the past five minutes, specifically my beard. Do you not like it? I can shave it if it bothers you.”
“I—What?” Flustered, I quickly lower my gaze to my laptop. “ You’re being ridiculous. Why would you shave your beard if I don’t like it?”
“So you don’t like it then?”
“I never said that!”
“So you like it?”
“This is highly unprofessional.” I hate how my face is probably a bright red by now. Having such fair skin definitely has its disadvantages. “I was just thinking over your question, not about your beard. Why would I think about your beard? I have no reason to think about?—”
When I look up, a half-smile is playing on his lips.
My eyes flash with annoyance as I realize he was just messing with me. “That’s not funny.”
He lifts his shoulders, grinning to himself. “I thought it was. Now about the educational background of these employees?”
I can’t wrap my head around Ethan. Even with his own brother, he’s cool and distant.
But when it’s just him and me, it’s like seeing a side of him I’ve never seen before.
When we first met, he had been sexy in an older guy sort of way.
He had been intriguing, considerate, making me fall for him.
He was the first man to pay attention to me that way, however, I was never his equal.
But this month has changed everything between us.
It feels like we are on more equal footing now. His attitude toward me has evolved completely. He likes to tease me in subtle ways, engages me in casual conversations, values my input on business decisions.
The first time around, I had been the one hanging on to his every word, mesmerized by this powerful man.
Now? He treats me as if my opinion holds weight, as if my preferences matter to him, as if I’m important to him.
This isn’t the Ethan Wilder I remember from five years ago.
What made him change so much? Is this growth genuine, or is it another tactic?
After a month of working together, I’m still not sure .
I rifle through the box of files beside me, shaking off my lingering doubts.
“Here.” I hand him a thick file. “I’ve already gone through these documents. They all graduated from average colleges, did basic internships. But all the internships were in companies owned by Braxton or his friends.”
Ethan’s eyes flash. “Of course they were. Did you have any say in their hiring?”
I shake my head. “Braxton conducted the interviews privately. But you might want to have a look at their progress reports.”
Ethan takes out the papers from the file, his eyebrows lift after he reads through them. “I have a feeling the companies you left weren’t very happy to let you go.”
“They did offer me incentives to stay. I simply wasn’t interested.”
Ethan examines me from over the top of the papers in his hand. “I wouldn’t want to let go of such a valuable employee either. After this past month of working together, I’m even more convinced. You’re not going anywhere, Natalie. You’re going to be stuck with me for a long time.”
For the first time, there is no hint of suggestion in his voice. I realize he’s looking at me—in this moment—as a professional, not a woman. My cheeks feel hot as pride fills me.
I’ve worked hard. Despite all odds, I have worked incredibly hard, and hearing this from such a successful businessman like Ethan after a month of proving myself daily makes me want to smile.
“We’ll see,” I murmur, keeping my head down in my files.
“Why did you move states so often when you changed jobs?” he asks out of nowhere. “I’m sure you could have found companies willing to hire you within the same state, if not city, you were living in. Why relocate yourself to such an extreme?”
My blood goes cold at his pointed question. I try to lift my shoulders, but it comes off as awkward. “I-I don’t like staying in one place for too long.”
“Really?” He gives me a dubious look.
I pretend not to notice, hand him another sheet of paper with the names of more employees.
“This is the list of new hires in the Marketing Department—I’ve marked them with red— and the others are employees whom I interviewed myself.
After I came on, the board of directors wanted me to overhaul the entire Marketing Department.
I didn’t let everybody go. A few of them were actually good workers, but I did hire quite a lot of people. Their names are on such list.”
As Ethan reads the list, I let out a shaky breath, grateful he’s moved on from the previous line of questioning.
I don’t like talking about my past. I don’t like remembering how my life fell apart because of my own selfish actions. I spent two years running, making sure my door had three locks instead of one, always looking over my shoulder when walking home at night.
I would never have returned to New York if my mother hadn’t insisted or if I hadn’t been completely certain I was no longer in danger.
“There’s something that’s been bothering me about the Robert situation.” I look at Ethan. He’s sipping his coffee, his eyes running over the papers in his hand.
I’ve been in his office since this morning. I left only for my lunch break, and when I came back, he was sitting in the same position, working. He had offered to get lunch delivered to the office, but when I returned, I discovered he hadn’t eaten.
This is what he does, according to Clarice. He forgets to eat when he’s absorbed in his work. He’ll let his food go cold, then put it aside. After a month of working closely with him, I’ve gotten used to his intense work ethic, though it still amazes me. Doesn’t he ever get tired?
“We’ve already established the email sent to Robert was from Iris’s assistant’s computer, it was sent during the lunch break.
The cameras were also conveniently down for a couple of minutes.
Let’s operate on the assumption whoever sent such an email wanted Robert to check for the errors.
Isn’t there a good chance Iris would have been fired? ”
Ethan looks at me with a grimace. “You think somebody was trying to frame her?”
“From any way you look at it, the report clearly implies the Marketing Department is misrepresenting how their funds are used, trying to go for a bigger budget. Isn’t something like this a guaranteed reason for either demotion or firing?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but Ethan’s expression turns grim. “If Iris’s position was abandoned, who would be the next candidate?”
“Off the top of my head?” I ask, considering.
“Charlotte Evans or Frank Kolinski. All three were managers of different teams within the department. When the previous head of marketing left, Iris got the position. Charlotte was recently demoted, though. She’s been going through some personal problems, and it was starting to affect the quality of her work.
She filed a complaint about her work being sabotaged multiple times.
I looked into it, but nothing came of it. Office politics can be quite dirty.”
“So we are looking at Frank, then?” Ethan ponders.