Narrator's POV
Ethan sat at the back of his huge desk, his hands resting under his chin. With his legs crossed, he drummed his fingers on the table, deep in thought.
He had to land this contract. His chances were high, and he knew it—but he didn't just want to be considered. He wanted to be the obvious choice.
"Family oriented," he muttered. "Why did they have to throw that in?" he complained to himself.
A wife couldn't just appear out of thin air. He just needed someone to play the part.
Ethan pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contact list again and again, unable to make a decision.
At last, he stopped and made a call—to Amaya. It had been a while since they'd spoken, but Amaya had been his friend since childhood. She was the only woman—besides his grandmother—who understood him, even a little.
"Hello," he heard her soft voice on the other end of the line.
"Hey, Amaya. How're you doing over there?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"I'm very well! It's a surprise you called. You never do," she said. Amaya was excited to hear from him.
"I'm sorry, work and all—it's kept me too busy."
"It's fine. I'm super proud of you every day. I get busy too, so I understand," Amaya replied warmly.
"Thank you," Ethan said, his voice softening for a moment.
There was a brief silence, not awkward, but thoughtful. He tapped his pen against the desk, unsure how to steer the conversation. He'd always been direct in business—but this wasn't business. This was... delicate.
He cleared his throat. "Amaya, can I ask you something a little personal?"
"Of course," she said, curious now.
"Are you seeing someone?"
Amaya's breath caught—startled by the question. She hadn't expected it. Ethan had never shown much interest in her personal life before, and now, out of nowhere, he was asking.
Her face flushed. Maybe—just maybe—he had finally started having feelings for her.
Amaya had always liked Ethan, more than she ever admitted. But she never had the courage to tell him how she felt—afraid that it might ruin the friendship they'd built over the years.
"Amaya?" Ethan called, breaking the silence.
Amaya jolted. "No… no, I'm single," she said, her heart beating faster.
"Okay. If you don't mind, could you come over? I really want to see you—and there's something important I need to ask you. Please."
"Does he finally want to ask me out?" Amaya nearly shrieked. She clamped a hand over her mouth, giddy with excitement.
"I was planning to visit my parents this weekend, but… maybe I'll just shift it to tomorrow," she said, barely containing the smile in her voice.
"Thank you so much. I'll cover your flight and any other expenses."
"You don't have to—"
"No, I do. I have a meeting now, so I've got to run. See you tomorrow," Ethan said before hanging up.
"Step one, done," he muttered to himself as he got up and left the office.
Meanwhile, Amaya was glowing. She laid on her bed, throwing her hands in the air like a schoolgirl who'd just talked to her crush.
Ethan was her dream man—handsome, successful, and kind-hearted.
"If I were his woman," she thought, "I wouldn't have to lift a pen again in my life."
She sprang up and headed straight to the salon. She had to look beautiful for him tomorrow. Her heart couldn't stop racing.
****
Sophie followed closely behind Ethan's car, her eyes fixed as she trailed him through the city streets. A plan was already forming in her mind.
When Ethan's car finally pulled up in front of a restaurant, she eased to a stop a short distance away, watching as he and his personal assistant stepped out and walked inside.
According to the weather forecast, a heavy downpour was expected that evening.
"Even nature's on my side," she smirked to herself.
Stepping out of her car, she walked calmly toward Ethan's vehicle, glancing around before bending slightly—pretending her bag had fallen under the car.
With practiced ease, she slipped a sharp nail beneath the tire, positioning it just right.
Straightening up, she smoothed her dress and tossed her hair back, then strolled into the hotel next to the restaurant.
From a seat in the lobby, she gazed out the window as the sky darkened and raindrops began to tap against the glass. Moments later, the clouds gave way, unleashing a steady downpour.
Just as she had anticipated, Ethan walked into the building with his PA and driver, a deep frown etched across his face.
The meeting was over, and as they'd stepped out of the restaurant, he discovered the flat tire. With the rain coming down in sheets and his home miles away, there was no point in trying to get back.
Frustrated, he made the decision to spend the night at the hotel.
Sophie, sitting casually in the lobby, watched from behind a magazine she wasn't reading. Her eyes followed every step as Ethan and his team approached the front desk.
She listened intently as they collected their room keys and headed for the elevator.
As soon as the elevator doors closed behind Ethan and his team, Sophie stood and made her way to the front desk. Her heels clicked confidently against the marble floor.
"Excuse me," she said with a smile, lowering her voice slightly. "I'm so sorry to bother you. I'm actually with the event management company handling the executive suite setup for Mr. Ethan's room. There was a last-minute request to send up complimentary refreshments. Could you point me to the service staff area?"
The young receptionist hesitated, unsure. Sophie leaned in, maintaining her tone.
"It's really important. Just a quick drop-off—it won't take a minute. I promise."
After a brief pause and a whispered exchange with another staff member, she was reluctantly shown the staff corridor. Sophie thanked them and slipped away.
Inside the service area, she quickly grabbed a tray and arranged some items from the refreshment counter—bottled water, fruit, and a few small pastries. She spotted a spare room service uniform hanging on a rack and didn't hesitate.
Minutes later, dressed in the crisp black-and-white outfit, she looked almost official. Pulling her hair into a neat bun, she pushed the tray onto the service cart and made her way to the elevator.
Room 908. She had caught a glimpse of Ethan's room number while he received his key.
As the elevator ascended, her heart raced—not from nerves, but anticipation.
"Showtime."
She knocked gently when she reached the door, she cleared her throat to sound more professional.
"Room service."
Ethan, who was in the middle of undressing, paused when a knock came at the door. His frown deepened as he walked over.
He pulled the door open, barely glancing at Sophie. "I didn't order anything," he said curtly.
"Good evening, sir," she replied. "It's a complimentary treat from the hotel management. Just a small gesture to make your stay more comfortable."
Ethan arched a brow, but he was too drained to argue. The long day, the meeting, the flat tire, and the relentless rain had taken their toll.
"Alright," he muttered, stepping aside and waving her in.
"Thank you, sir." Sophie pushed the cart in and began setting the small meal on the table—steak, a few sides, and a glass of rich red wine. While Ethan walked back toward the closet, she subtly slipped a clear liquid into the wine.
"I'll just clean up a little water spill near the door," she added, letting a faint trail of water dribble from the jug she carried. She bent down with a cloth, mopping slowly, watching him through her lashes.
Ethan returned and sat heavily at the table. The scent of the food was inviting, and without a second thought, he began eating. He took a bite, then another, savoring the warm, rich flavor. Then, he reached for the wine and took a sip.
He sighed. The wine was smooth, just what he needed.
The fatigue in his body began to feel heavier, but that didn't strike him as odd—it had been a long day, after all. The rain still pattered against the windows, and the soft hum of the air conditioning made the room feel even more like a cocoon.
His limbs felt… relaxed. A little too relaxed, maybe. His head drooped slightly, but he chuckled to himself. "I'm getting old," he mumbled, pushing the half-empty wine glass aside.
Sophie stood, folding the damp cloth neatly and placing it on the cart. "Is there anything else you need, sir?"
"No," Ethan said with a tired exhale, dragging himself to his feet. "I think I just need sleep."
She nodded respectfully. "Have a good night, sir."
Ethan barely managed to murmur a reply as he made it to the bed. He collapsed onto it with a groan, not bothering to pull the sheets over himself.
Sophie looked down at him, a smile curling on her lips as she shut the door from within.