The first rule of professionalism: don't let your heart beat fast when your client enters the room.
I busted that rule the moment Ethan Reed entered the conference suite.
He wasn't there yet. The rest of the team was busy getting slides in place, the caterers were arranging pastries, and I was rehearsing the start of our presentation for the fiftieth time.
And then that voice I was so familiar with behind me.
"Morning, Tessa. Ready to make me shine again?"
I turned, preparing myself. "You make my job sound easier than it is."
He grinned. "I'm sure you'll be able to manage it."
I hunched my shoulders, trying to focus. This session was critical very critical. A good presentation meant a new deal and a bonus I couldn't afford to forego.
No distractions.
No smiles.
No dimples.
Unless. Ethan didn't seem to get that memo.
Every time I spoke, his eyes locked with mine. Calm, focused, plain as if he was listening to something more than the words.
And when the boardroom snickered over one of my one-liners on market appeal, his smile widened, as if he were pleased with me.
The room was applauding by the end of the pitch. My boss smiled and patted me on the back.
"Outstanding work, Tessa. Mr. Reed, I take it we've won your confidence?"
Ethan sneezed, fastening his jacket. "More than won it. The campaign's in good hands."
His eyes flitted my direction once again, soft but deliberate.
I turned my head, executing a rapid ballet of note positioning.
When the executives departed, my boss was already busied on the phone, and the two of us were left together in the silence of the empty room.
Ethan leaned back on the table's edge. "You know, you're different when you're among your own people."
"Meaning?" I warily inquired.
"Focused. Ferocious. Hard to look away from."
I could feel my pulse rise again. "You're not supposed to look."
He grinned. "Try telling that to gravity."
I opened my mouth to speak, but a harsh crack filled the room before I could say anything. I leapt. A vase one of the pretty ones the hotel placed as centerpieces had fallen off the counter and broken.
Ethan was by my side in two steps, one hand firmly on my waist as glass spilled onto the floor.
You all right?" he asked, voice low.
I nodded, thudding heart. His hand lingered for half a beat too long then he stepped back, clearing his throat.
"Guess I'm bad luck for breakables," he said softly.
"Apparently," I said, feigning a smile. "You're a magnet for chaos."
He lifted his eyes to mine, eyes darker than usual. "Only the kind worth chasing."
The silence dragged on until my phone vibrated. Jenna's message lit the screen:
JENNA: Heard your pitch was a hit. And Maya's engagement party was moved to Saturday. Guess who's inviting Ethan? ????
I froze.
"Do you, ah… know Maya Alvarez?" I ventured.
He tilted his head. "Daniel's fiancée. Why?"
I swallowed. "Because she's Jenna's cousin."
Ethan's smile slowed, acknowledgement. "Small world keeps getting smaller."
I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, reliving it all over again. The look in his eyes when he stood up for me. The tone in his voice. The way destiny kept going on despite all the rules I had put in place.
And beneath it all, a thought I didn't want to have:
What if he wasn't the wrong man after all?
For the rest of the afternoon, I tried to lose myself in work. Focus was impossible when Ethan Reed's smile was cemented in my brain.
Every email felt like beginning with Morning, Tessa.
Every beep of my phone felt like a possibility of him.
It wasn't.
Mostly.
At least not until five-thirty.
ETHAN: Congrats on the pitch. Drinks on me? Strictly professional, of course.
I stared at the message for a whole minute before I answered.
ME: I do not combine business with tequila.
ETHAN: Then coffee? Or sparkling water? Or you simply say yes.
ME: You don't quit easily, do you?
ETHAN: Not when the chat's this good.
I breathed out, placed my phone on the desk, and growled, "The chat is not good. It's dangerous."
And, naturally, Jenna chose to appear in my cubicle at just that moment. "Who cares? Tell me it's your inbox again."
I glared. "Do. You. Ever. Knock."
She smiled. "I do, then I'd miss the good stuff. Is this about Mr. Motorcycle?"
"Ethan. And no. He just… doesn't take hints."
"Honey, you don't give hints you construct walls. The man probably believes he needs a passport just to have a conversation with you."
I winced. "He's a client, Jen. We have boundaries."
"Certainly. Boundaries that involve midnight emails, cupcakes, and chemistry so real the janitor remarked."
I pushed my palms to my face. "I hate you."
"You love me," she zipped, heading for the door. "And for the record? Wear the black dress on Saturday. You'll thank me later."
Saturday came, and I'd convinced myself it was just another obligation. Nothing more. Just go, smile, and act like you don't notice the man who leaves you speechless.
Except when I walked into the rooftop club, I saw him immediately.
Black tux. No tie. The city lights glinting in his eyes. He wasn't even looking my way he didn't have to. But somehow, I still felt him see.
Jenna waved from across the throng, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like breathe.
I sat down, got myself a drink, and pressed my eyes onto the table centerpiece as if it held the secrets of the universe.
Then a voice I recognized spoke softly next to me.
"Very well, this is your off-duty look. I disapprove."
I spun around. Ethan. Naturally.
"Try not to charm me in front of my relatives," I shot back dryly.
He smiled, leaning in just close enough to make my heart stutter. "If they're as good as you, I'll have to be on my best behavior."
I sipped champagne, affecting not to hear him.
But when the toasts started and all the guests stood to applaud, his hand touched mine beneath the table quickly, a brief touch, but one that made me lose track of how to breathe.
For an instant, the din receded. The crowd dissolved. It was only us.
And it was then that I understood something horrifying:
Perhaps it wasn't fate that brought us together.
Perhaps it was me, careening straight into the sort of trouble I'd promised myself I'd long since outgrown.
The toasts were lengthy, the champagne was endless, and the rooftop breeze carried a perfume of roses and risk.
I vowed I'd have an early departure. I'd smile, wish Maya and Daniel well, and make my exit quietly before Ethan found a cause to address me again.
That held for twelve minutes.
"Leaving already?"
His tone caught me just as I reached for my clutch.
I half-turned, half-frustrated, half-demoralized. "You have a strange habit of turning up when I'm trying to make an exit with dignity."
He shrugged, his hands buried deep in his pockets. "Maybe the universe's timing is better than mine."
I rolled my eyes. "Or maybe you like being a pain in the neck."
He smiled at that small, sincere, then sinister once it makes its way into his eyes.
"Guilty.".
Neither of us said anything for a minute. The music was softer now a slow acoustic cover of a love song I didn't want to hear. Fairy lights twinkled overhead. People were laughing and dancing and taking photographs.
And then Ethan spoke, softer this time,
"You look like you could use a break."
"I'm fine," I lied.
"You always say that," he said, stepping closer, not touching, but close enough for me to feel his warmth through the night air. "You don't have to be."
That threw me off guard. His tone wasn't teasing. It wasn't flirtatious. It was… honest.
For a moment, the mask slipped both his and mine.
I swallowed hard, my voice barely steady. "Ethan, you're my client."
"And you're my favorite part of every meeting," he announced. "What do we do about that?"
I should've quit. I should've quoted my rulebook, or made a joke, or done something smart.
Instead, I looked at him really looked at him and saw the man beneath all the charisma. The one who showed up on time, stayed late, remembered tiny details about me that I never thought anyone noticed.
"I think," I said hesitantly, "that we act as though this conversation never happened."
"And if I cannot?"
His voice was subdued now. Guarded.
I met his eyes, and something wild flipped within me. "Then you'll have to learn to want something you can't have."
He gazed at me for a slow moment, then smiled soft, not condescending. "Challenge accepted."
And with that, he wheeled on his heel and disappeared and left me standing under a band of lights, trying to pretend my world wasn't spinning.
Later that night, when I finally got home, I had a message on my phone.
ETHAN: Don't worry. I'm a good player at play-pretend. For now.
I read it twice. Then three times.
And when I eventually turned off the lights, I couldn't tell between the flutter in my chest being panic. or hope.