I didn’t hear from Ethan all day.
Not a call. Not a message. Not even a glance in the conference room.
Which would’ve been a relief—if I weren’t obsessively replaying last night on a loop in my head.
The weight of his body pinning mine.
The way he whispered my name like a prayer.
The ache of leaving without knowing if it meant anything to him at all.
By 7 p.m., the office was nearly empty. Most of the staff had filtered out with quiet goodbyes and tired eyes. I should’ve left too, but I couldn’t. Not like this. Not with that silence gnawing at me.
So I knocked.
And walked into his office without waiting for an answer.
He was standing by the window, back to me, sleeves rolled up, tie discarded, whiskey glass in hand.
I closed the door softly behind me.
“Nothing?” I said.
He didn
