The promotion came with a new office.
Bigger. Brighter. A better view.
But none of it felt real.
The room was glass-walled and high above the city. A space meant to impress. To elevate.
But all I could think was how easily a cage could be beautiful if it was built high enough.
Everyone congratulated me.
Smiles. Flowers. Fake warmth from people who'd never noticed me before. Now they lingered near my desk, laughed a little too hard at my jokes, watched me when they thought I wasn't looking.
Not because of what I'd done.
But because of who I was tied to.
Ethan Hart's woman.
They didn't say it.
They didn't need to.
His name opened doors I hadn't even known existed.
But each one I walked through, I felt a little less like me.
That evening, I stayed late. I didn't want to go home. Didn't want to face the silence of my apartment… or the ring still waiting on the dresser.
When I stepped out into the hallway, the lights were low. Everyone else was gone. Except him.
Ethan stood at the end of the corridor, hands in his pockets, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window as if he owned the night itself.
He didn't turn when he heard my footsteps.
"I thought you weren't speaking to me," I said quietly.
"I wasn't."
"And now?"
He glanced back at me, his eyes unreadable. "Now I'm watching."
I frowned. "Watching what?"
"How you move when you think you're free."
The words hit harder than they should've.
"You think I'm not?" I asked, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.
"I think you haven't decided yet," he said. "But you will."
I stepped closer, hating how fast my pulse quickened. "That's not how love works, Ethan. It's not a deal you win or lose."
"I'm not here for love," he said calmly.
That stopped me cold.
Then he added, more quietly, "I'm here for you."
My breath caught.
Not because it was romantic. But because it wasn't.
There was no poetry in his voice. No promises.
Just certainty.
Like a man claiming land, not affection.
And the worst part?
Part of me liked it.