Page 191
“We’re the last ones again,” I murmur, finally taking him in from head to toe.
Dressed entirely in black, he is the embodiment of elegance and power. Every movement, every detail, draws me in. I can’t look away without wanting more.
“God, Ethan,” I whisper, enchanted, “it’s so unfair how handsome you are.”
He chuckles softly, raising a hand to close my mouth, amused by the awe written across my face.
I smack his shoulder lightly, playful yet accusatory, then turn back to the mirror to touch up my makeup—which now feels trivial compared to the chaos of desire still racing through me.
After reapplying my red lipstick and correcting the edges around my lips, I turn to face him.
He’s leaning against the bathroom wall, hands in his pockets, one ankle crossed over the other, his entire attention fixed on my body. The way he looks at me makes the air feel heavier, thicker, charged.
“Ready, kitten?” he asks, pushing off the wall and straightening. He extends a hand, and I take it without hesitation.
“So ready,” I answer, smiling.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous, Thalia,” he says quietly, his voice low, sincere. “Breathtaking.”
“I can’t even look at you without my legs going weak, Ethan,” I reply. “So we should go downstairs before my panties get soaked,” I add, tugging him toward the door.
But he stops abruptly, forcing me to halt as well.
“What?” I ask, curious.
Groaning, he lets his head fall back, his words heavy as if each one physically aches. “You can’t say things like that and then expect us to go down to the party, Thalia.”
Laughing wickedly, I hook a finger into the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I think you can last a few more hours, my love.”
Surprised, he raises an eyebrow, delight flashing across his face, satisfied.
“Say that again,” he says, smiling.
I realize then that the words caught him off guard—it’s the first time I called him anything other than ‘Ethan’.
I step closer until only one breath separates our lips. “My love,” I whisper firmly.
The silence that follows is so complete you can hear our hearts beating in perfect unison. It’s that kind of silence that doesn’t press down but gives—allowing thoughts to settle and feelings to speak without words.
The kind of silence that offers stability. Fulfillment. Love.
“I love you,” he says after a moment, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead.
Two minutes later, hand in hand with the most powerful and influential man on two continents, I walk downstairs to face the world he navigates with such ease.
For the first time as his girlfriend.
SIXTY-THREE
Ethan
Whenever Thalia is near, my eyes drift toward her without permission. But the moment I stepped into the bathroom doorway a few hours ago and saw her there, I knew I wouldn’t be able to tear my gaze away for a single moment tonight.
She looks otherworldly, draped in a dress that seems woven from light itself—a nude-toned gown that clings to her curves like a second skin, entirely encrusted with delicate crystals that catch every flicker from the overhead lights. With each subtle movement, the fabric shimmers in gold and silver, as though the very sky has spilled itself across her.
The dress leaves her shoulders bare, the straight, elegant neckline emphasizing the refined sweep of her collarbone. Long, fitted sleeves trace her arms, balancing the boldness of the silhouette with the gentle curve of her waist and hips before descending into a sleek, elongated hem that flows fluidly with every step she takes.
Her blonde hair—long, glossy, and impossibly soft—cascades in effortless waves down her back, framing her face with polished ease. Each strand seems to glow under the light, just like the dress, just like her.
