The soft purr of the luxury car's engine hummed beneath them as Ethan drove through the quiet stretch of the private coastal road, the city lights long gone in the rearview. Myra sat beside him, her expression unreadable yet visibly content, stealing glances at him every few seconds. The night air had a scent of salt and jasmine—an intoxicating blend that suited the moment perfectly.
"Where are we going?" she finally asked, her voice light with curiosity.
"You'll see," Ethan replied with a faint smirk, hands firm on the wheel as the headlights pierced through the trees. "Just know it's somewhere private. Somewhere only a few people in the world know even exists."
The road eventually led to a massive iron gate embedded into a wall of thick hedges. Without any input, the gate began to slide open as they approached. Myra looked at him with widened eyes.
"You live here?" she asked.
"Not quite," he said casually. "One of my villas. This one's more of a... getaway spot. I use it when I want absolute silence."
The car rolled smoothly into a circular driveway, stopping in front of a villa that could only be described as art. White marble walls gleamed under ambient golden lighting. A reflecting pool wrapped around the entrance like a moat. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows revealed glimpses of a lush interior with custom furniture, an indoor waterfall wall, and warm lighting fixtures suspended like constellations.
Myra blinked. "Villa? This looks like something out of a billionaire's dreamscape."
Ethan chuckled. "I thought you already knew I had good taste."
A valet in a sleek black uniform greeted them at the door and opened it before Ethan even asked. Another uniformed housekeeper bowed slightly and welcomed them in.
As they stepped into the villa, Myra could barely take it all in. The scent of oud and cedarwood lingered in the air. Each corner of the villa oozed quiet wealth and unmatched taste, from the floating spiral staircase with embedded lighting to the live koi pond that lined the hallway.
"I thought you were keeping a low profile," Myra said, brushing her hand along the edge of a crystal sculpture on the entry table.
"I am," Ethan said, handing his jacket to the housekeeper. "No one knows I own this place. Just like no one knows I own the restaurant we just left."
Myra turned to him, half-amused, half-shocked. "Wait. You own that restaurant?"
Ethan shrugged. "Among other things."
She laughed softly. "You really are like some overpowered anime character."
Ethan paused in the hallway, then smiled. "Funny you say that. There's a man—Alexander Langford. Never met him, but he played a big part in making me who I am today. Like some omniscient character watching from the shadows."
"The same Langford… my grandfather?" Myra asked, taken aback.
He nodded. "He left behind more than just wealth. He gave me opportunity. Power. And for reasons I still don't fully understand, he made sure I had all the tools to rise… if I could survive the trials."
She went quiet, following him through the villa until they reached a private lounge with floor-to-ceiling views of the ocean. The entire wall retracted at the touch of a button, revealing a patio with a firepit, a jacuzzi bubbling gently, and a floating infinity pool that melted into the horizon.
"I can't believe this place," she whispered.
Ethan looked out at the horizon, the wind tousling his hair slightly. "I never bring anyone here. You're the first."
Myra's gaze softened. "Why me?"
He turned to her, eyes unreadable but deep with emotion. "Because you were always honest. Even when I was just 'trash picker Ethan' at the university. You never looked at me like I was less. You asked questions, but you never judged. That's rare."
She took a step closer. "But you never answered those questions… until now."
"I wanted to make sure the world didn't change how you saw me," he said. "People treat power like a crown. But crowns attract vultures."
They stood in silence for a moment, the crash of waves far below the cliff echoing in the background.
"I guess I should be flattered," Myra finally said, breaking the quiet. "First person to see the secret lair."
"It's more than a lair," Ethan said, stepping toward the patio. "It's a piece of me. Everything I've built—the companies, the networks, the influence—I've kept it locked behind layers. You just stepped into one."
A phone vibrated softly on the side table. Ethan glanced at the screen and frowned.
"Everything alright?" Myra asked.
"Just business," he muttered before declining the call. "Tonight, I'm off-duty."
They moved to the firepit, where a spread of desserts and drinks had already been prepared. Chocolate mousse, caramel tarts, imported grapes and cheeses. Ethan poured her a glass of vintage wine while taking a glass of water for himself.
"You always do things big?" she teased.
"Only when it matters," he replied.
They spent the next hour talking. About trivial things. About the university. About what she'd cook if she had the whole kitchen staff to herself.
But behind the light talk, there was tension. Not a bad kind. The kind that grows when two people orbit each other, slowly but irresistibly drawing closer.
At one point, she reached for her wine and brushed his hand. She paused. He didn't.
Their eyes locked.
Neither said a word.
He leaned in first—slowly, deliberately. She didn't pull away. Instead, she met him halfway, her breath catching as his lips brushed against hers. Soft at first, then deeper. More certain.
When they pulled apart, neither spoke for a long moment.
"You're not what I expected," she whispered.
"And you're more than I deserve," he replied.
She smiled, shaking her head. "Now that's a lie."
He chuckled. "Maybe. Maybe not."
Later, he gave her a private room in the villa to rest while he stepped into the study. As he leaned against the desk, staring at a portrait of Alexander Langford—still hung here as a reminder—his expression grew serious.
He knew this night would change everything.
The past he buried was knocking again.
But for tonight, he allowed himself peace.
And somewhere in that villa, under a roof built from secrets, two people began something neither of them expected—but both needed.