The bell above the café door chimed, and the warm smell of coffee was quickly replaced by something colder — the kind of tension Emily didn't have a name for, but could feel down to her bones.
Two men in dark suits stepped inside, their polished shoes silent against the worn wooden floor. Neither spared a glance at the menu. Their eyes locked on Ethan immediately, like they'd been tracking him all along.
Ethan didn't move. He sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable, as if he'd been expecting them.
"Monaco," the taller one said, his voice low but carrying.
Emily's fingers tightened around her coffee cup.
Ethan nodded once. "You're far from home, Vieri."
The man gave a thin smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We need to talk."
Ethan's gaze flicked briefly toward Emily, then back. "I'm busy."
The shorter man — broader, with a scar along his jaw — took a small step forward. "It's important."
Emily's pulse quickened. Something told her important didn't mean grades or café business. She looked between them, unsure if she should speak or stay silent.
Ethan finally pushed back his chair, the sound loud in the quiet café. "Five minutes."
He stood, his shadow stretching long across the floor, and walked to the far corner with the two men. Their voices dropped low, too faint for Emily to hear clearly, but she caught fragments. Shipment… problem… someone's talking.
Her eyes darted to the door. She could leave. Slip out, vanish back into the safety of campus.
But she didn't.
Instead, she sat frozen, watching Ethan — the way his posture shifted slightly forward, the sharp focus in his eyes, the small, dangerous smile that made the suited men look suddenly uneasy.
When he returned, the men left without a word.
Ethan sat down like nothing had happened and slid the last pastry toward her. "Eat, angel. You look pale."
"What was that about?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Business," he said simply. "The kind you don't want to know about."
Emily swallowed hard. She wanted to argue. She wanted to know. But deep down, a small, traitorous part of her was afraid she already had an idea.
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