It was a bright Tuesday morning, and I was walking into Rivera Corp, clutching my bag and trying to appear confident. But my mind was racing. After yesterday's intimate morning with Ethan, everything felt… different. Closer. Harder to control.
Ethan was already at the reception, casually talking to a client. When he saw me, his eyes softened, just for a fraction of a second, before slipping back into professional mode.
"Good morning," I said, trying to sound normal.
"Morning," he replied, with that faint smile that made my chest tighten.
The day passed in a blur of meetings, emails, and client calls. But I kept noticing small things: the way he always adjusted my chair when I sat, the way his eyes flicked to me during presentations, the subtle protective aura that seemed to follow me around.
During lunch, a minor incident sparked the kind of tension I hadn't expected. A colleague accidentally bumped into me, spilling a bit of coffee on my sleeve.
Before I could react, Ethan was there. "Lara, are you okay?" His voice was calm but firm. He grabbed a napkin and gently dabbed at the stain, his fingers brushing mine.
I froze. Just a simple touch, but it sent shivers down my spine. I could feel the warmth of his hand lingering on my skin, and my pulse raced.
"Th-thank you," I stammered, unable to hide the heat rising to my cheeks.
He gave me a faint, almost unreadable smile. "Be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."
Hurt? Was he talking about the coffee, or… something else? My heart thudded painfully.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze. Every small gesture, every glance, felt charged. By the time the workday ended, I was exhausted—but also… restless.
Ethan walked me to the elevator. "You're leaving?" I asked.
"Yes. I have another meeting," he said. But as the doors began to close, he paused.
He leaned slightly closer, his hand brushing mine against the elevator railing. Just for a second. A subtle gesture. But enough to make my breath catch.
"See you tomorrow," he said softly, his voice carrying that calm, protective tone that always unnerved me.
I nodded, too flustered to speak. As the doors closed, I realized my heart was still racing. A tiny, simple touch. A small, subtle gesture. Pero somehow, it meant more than I wanted it to.
Contract marriage. One year. Rules. Boundaries.
But as I walked to my car, I couldn't shake the feeling that every small touch, every glance, every moment with Ethan was slowly breaking those boundaries—without either of us saying a word.
And I wasn't sure if I wanted them to stay intact anymore.