(Ethan’s POV)
At five forty-five, I'm pacing my cabin like a caged animal.
This is ridiculous. I've negotiated billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat. I've stared down corporate raiders and hostile takeovers. I've given presentations to rooms full of skeptical investors and walked away with their money and their respect.
But the thought of talking to Sabrina Moore on a cruise ship deck is making my palms sweat.
I change shirts three times before settling on a simple navy henley. Casual but put-together. I run my hands through my hair, then immediately regret it because now it looks like I tried too hard. I smooth it down. Now it looks too neat.
"Get it together," I mutter to my reflection. "You're a grown man. Act like it."
My phone buzzes. A text from Sophia: She just left he
